THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Robert Koshland 
 
A JOURNALIST IN THE 
 HOLY LAND 
 
A Venerable Jew. 
 
 {Sketched at Hai/a.) 
 
 HaroM Copping. 
 
A JOURNALIST IN 
 THE HOLY LAND 
 
 GLIMPSES OF EGYPT AND PALESTINE 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR E. ^COPPING 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 HAROLD COPPING 
 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO 
 1912 
 
GIFT 
 
 K 5 |J<u*d 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 
 HP HE following narra- 
 tive is an informal 
 account of a visit to 
 Egypt and Palestine. 
 It is in no way an 
 attempt at producing a 
 guide-book to either land, 
 still less at dealing fully 
 with the sacred associa- 
 tions of them both. The 
 author's endeavour has 
 been to recall what he 
 himself saw, and to 
 present it in such a way as to provide a book 
 that may remind travellers of their own 
 experiences, or, possibly, stir in other minds 
 the desire to look upon these lands of un- 
 surpassed interest. 
 
 M893435 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 What Egypt Looks Like 
 
 The sunny East Impressions of Alexandria A striking instance 
 of fair dealing On the way to Cairo The orange-vendor and the 
 egg-exporter : an embarrassing experience A venerable landscape 
 Date-palms, camels, and patriarchs Using the Nile by jugfuls 
 The sakieh and shadoof at work .... pages 1-16 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 Cairo and its Wonders 
 
 A dazzling city Engaging a dragoman In the golden desert 
 The pyramids Arabs whining for baksheesh On the Great 
 Pyramid : an undignified adventure The Sphinx A thrifty 
 photographer In an Arab village Deserted homes of Mecca 
 pilgrims Mirth turned to mourning : a piteous sight Old Cairo 
 The Nileometer pages 17-33 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 A Mohammedan Horror 
 
 Dancing and howling dervishes Asleep among the sugar-canes 
 On the Nile by starlight Crocodiles and a superstition The 
 Moharram celebration In a panic-stricken multitude The people 
 beaten by soldiers An awful procession Self-inflicted wounds 
 The Suez Canal Over-zealous porters at Port Said pages 34-50 
 
viii Contents 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 Arrival in Palestine 
 
 Fellow voyagers A first sight of the Holy Land Jaffa from the 
 sea Going ashore at Haifa Meeting my brother His presence 
 explained : an artist sent out by the Religious Tract Society 
 Impressions of the town Our camp on the shore Dining under 
 canvas George the waiter Solomon the dragoman Securing our 
 passports A surprise in the dark Guarded at night by armed 
 sentinels Sleeping under mosquito curtains Beetles and a spider 
 Viewing a unique collection of ancient glass vessels . pages 51-64 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 First Days on Horseback 
 
 Four horses and a muleteer Can a middle-aged man learn to 
 ride ? Why some people never go to Palestine False impressions 
 accounted for A digression with a moral My lessons at a riding- 
 school Drastic tuition What it feels like to trot Another method 
 of learning Our departure from Haifa The serene sea-coast 
 My horse bolts How he was stopped Solomon's reproaches and 
 scepticism Caution ill rewarded : another frantic gallop Luncheon 
 on the sandhills Mahomet blames the bridle An undignified way 
 out of the difficulty pages 65-82 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 Acre and Afterwards 
 
 Our transplanted camp Curiosity sternly repressed Historical 
 predecessors Acre at night Venerable battlements Peering at 
 murderers Remarkable rain We resume our journey An ac- 
 complished muleteer Our guides lose the way Conflicting advisers 
 Injuring the oppressed A hurricane of hail My lonely stroll 
 Flowers and solitude A strange meeting Unsavoury Shefa-Amr 
 A message from the Governor .... pages 83-98 
 
Contents ix 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Nazareth 
 
 Luxury in barbarism Domestic life in a tent Loading a mule 
 The Protestant school at Shefa-Amr Visiting the hill tombs 
 Travelling amid birds and flowers Wayside friends Looking down 
 at Nazareth Gentle-mannered girls and boys A city of kindness 
 and smiles The leper Mary's Well Primitive carpenters' shops 
 Distressing pretensions The Protestant Orphanage A missionary 
 of the minority pages 99-112 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 Galilean Villages 
 
 An entrancing panorama Reineh and its well The woman, the 
 pitcher, and the baby Cana Acres blue with bugloss Flights of 
 storks My horse goes lame A loose saddle Kind lads of Lubieh 
 A wounded bird My brother's handsome model Wine-presses cut 
 in the rock The dead lizard A howling hyena Why the men 
 were missing Our aggressive defender Menacing appeal for 
 baksheesh Jackals and mosquitoes . . . pages 113-127 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 Tiberias 
 
 The Sea of Galilee : a superb view Horns of Hattin The ' * Five 
 Loaves" Walking waist-deep in flowers Tiberias and its inhabi- 
 tants The market-place Finding a farrier Our camp on the 
 shore Visit to Hamman Experiences in the steaming darkness 
 Tidings of a tragedy The dead girl . . . pages 128-139 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 On the Sea of Galilee 
 
 Our voyage on the lake Snow-clad Hermon Shelter in a vault 
 Sounds from the shore Bathing in two temperatures " The Place 
 of the Big Fishes " A naked fisherman : his ingenious methods 
 Dense shoals of fish Explorations ashore The hospitable fisher- 
 
x Contents 
 
 men Minstrelsy afloat Wrecked in a squall A ride to the 
 Jordan The river entrance Companionship without words 
 Good-hye to Galilee Scorpions, adders, and tarantulas 
 
 pages 140-151 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 Amid Hostile Tribes 
 
 Water tortoises A sullen reception at Kefr Sabt Photography 
 leads to friendship An ancient Khan Suspected loiterers 
 Solomon and the tadpoles A little African settlement Mahomet 
 and the piccaninnies Mount Tabor Endor and its unfriendly 
 people Simon and George prepare a surprise Banquets in the 
 wilderness Feverish diplomacy : Solomon on the sick list Our 
 visit to the cave Curious optical development Sketching under 
 difficulties We are suspected of witchcraft . . pages 152-167 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 In Issachar 
 
 Nain A well surrounded by flowers "The soup of the shep- 
 herds" Aniseed and a hailstorm Eagles on Little Hermon 
 Insanitary Shunem Its inert inhabitants Inside a mud house 
 Making pastry with pease A line of hungry sparrows Mount 
 Gilboa Crossing the Plain of Esdraelon Jezreel and its watch- 
 tower' Children, camels, and poultry A rainbow across the blood- 
 red earth Jenin Visit from a Turkish official A medley of 
 noises The refreshing incense of early morning My horse's 
 unrequested jump A warning and a bog We nearly lose our horses 
 "The Ditch of Joseph" . . pages 168-181 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Samaria 
 
 Paradoxical Sebastiyeh Architectural memorials of Herod the 
 Great Childish adults The traffic in antiquities Solomon the 
 virtuoso Interrupted excavations Tomb of John the Baptist 
 An undignified schoolmaster : his appeal for baksheesh A civilised 
 dinner amid barbaric surroundings Its disconcerting sequel : a 
 deadly snake under our rug Strange uproar in a peaceful glen 
 
Contents 
 
 The quaint explanation Our encampment at Shechem An em- 
 barrassed tobacconist Uses of the turban The kissing child : 
 ingenious method of securing baksheesh . . pages 182-198 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 Russian Pilgrims 
 
 The Samaritans Visit from the High Priest's son Narrow- 
 minded Nablus Solomon's missing tobacco-box He consigns two 
 boys to prison A disconcerting discovery In the Vale of Shechem 
 Gerizim and Ebal At Jacob's Well On the Plain of Lubban A 
 mile of Russian pilgrims Siberian furs in Palestine sunshine Tea- 
 pots and simplicity The old woman's accident Unseen singers in 
 the wilderness Lamentable condition of the pilgrims Bethel 
 under a blue sky First sight of Jerusalem . . pages 199-213 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Jerusalem 
 
 Eloquent rocks Arrival at Jerusalem Greetings from tourists 
 A broken spell We part from our horses The hotel point of view 
 Discordant revelry Visiting the bazaars The Pool of Hezekiah 
 In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre A stone worn by kisses 
 Weeping pilgrims : a thrilling scene Jews at their Wailing Place 
 The Mount of Olives In the Haram enclosure A marvellous 
 system of water storage The site of the Temple Palatial shrines 
 of Islam The Holy Rock Zion The Garden of Gethsemane 
 Lepers and venerable beggars Calvary . . . pages 214-230 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 
 
 Rachel's Tomb Bethlehem and its people The Church of the 
 Nativity Bethany The Wilderness of Judaea Inn of the Good 
 Samaritan An impressive ravine Hermits of the precipice 
 Modern Jericho A plague of flies Across the gorgeous plain 
 The Dead Sea A walk along the shore The reedy Jordan 
 Ancient Jericho pages 231-243 
 
 INDEX P^ 8 245-248 
 
LIST OF COLOURED PLATES 
 
 FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY HAROLD COPPING 
 
 A Venerable Jew Sketched at Haifa Frontispiece 
 
 FACINO PAGE 
 
 On the Voyage Out a View of Smyrna from the 
 
 Mediterranean ...... 2 
 
 An Arab Boy ....... 32 
 
 A Jewish Beggar ....... 64 
 
 At Shefa Amr ....... 88 
 
 Where we stopped for Lunch between Shefa 
 
 Amr and Nazareth . . . . .104 
 
 Nazareth . . . . . . . .110 
 
 From our Camp at Lubieh . . . . .118 
 
 Traditional Site of the Miracle of the Loaves 
 
 and Fishes ....... 130 
 
 The Lake of Galilee . . . . . .140 
 
 Mountain side overlooking the Lake of Galilee . 152 
 
 The Caravan Route between Jerusalem and 
 
 Damascus ....... 156 
 
 xiii 
 
XIV 
 
 List of Coloured Plates 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 Entbance to Cave at End or the reputed Cave or 
 
 the Witch .... 
 The Columns at Samaria . 
 View prom Jacob's Well 
 Stone Wall at Bethel 
 Jerusalem a View of Mount Zion 
 The Wilderness or Judea 
 Evening at Jericho 
 On the Shore of the Dead Sea . 
 
 166 
 182 
 198 
 206 
 214 
 230 
 236 
 240 
 
A JOURNALIST 
 IN THE HOLY LAND 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 What Egypt Looks Like 
 
 The sunny East Impressions of Alexandria A striking instance 
 of fair dealing On the way to Cairo The orange-vendor and 
 the egg-exporter : an embarrassing experience A venerable 
 landscape Date-palms, camels, and patriarchs Using the 
 Nile by jugfuls The sakieh and shadoof at work. 
 
 ONE morning I awoke to find the engines 
 going slowly, and our part of the ship 
 full of human hurry 
 and of voices that 
 rang with un- 
 accustomed 
 exhilaration. 
 Going up the 
 companion, I 
 emerged into 
 view of a 
 dreamland 
 solidly real. 
 We were 
 
 at Alexandria, creeping to our moorings. My 
 western eyes now for the first time beheld 
 
2 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 the East. The Mediterranean had been just 
 a sea, exhibiting appearances in common with 
 the Atlantic and other vast areas of water. 
 But Alexandria, with its white buildings, 
 gleaming domes, and placid minarets above 
 all, with its men in coloured draperies was a 
 new world. It was a thrilling revelation of 
 bright hues and light. The sunshine on the 
 sea had been English sunshine. This sunshine 
 was an essential part of all that was foreign in 
 the glowing, exquisite scene. The golden light 
 heightened the strangeness of each strange 
 object. 
 
 Between the sun and this first sample of the 
 East there was, indeed, a palpable relation. I 
 now saw a city specially designed for sunshine 
 as its ruling experience. To put the case 
 reversely, I now saw sunshine in a human 
 environment appropriate to itself. For climate 
 is the autocratic architect and tailor ; and 
 England's brickwork and trousers are dingy 
 and grey in obedience to her wet skies. Lead 
 is the appropriate rain-resisting roofing for 
 our cathedrals. As appropriate, among the 
 snow-white buildings of Alexandria, was that 
 solitary dome of polished emerald, rich with 
 reflections a joyous harmony with the blue 
 sky. 
 
 As the liner slowed to her berth, the Egyptians 
 were upon us in a swift confusion of row-boats. 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 3 
 
 A shrill babel of angry Arabic (conceive a 
 company of perturbed monkeys and parrots) 
 marked the chaotic competition for precedence 
 in boarding. Early arrivals found their way 
 temporarily barred by an officer stationed on the 
 gangway ; meanwhile a bronzed athlete, risking 
 his neck in the name of business, surreptitiously 
 clambered up the side of the structure, and so, 
 by illegitimate means, reached the deck some 
 seconds ahead of his rivals. A minute later the 
 vessel was alive with gowned and perspiring 
 Easterns, who, shoving and upbraiding one 
 another with unlicensed professional jealousy, 
 ran barefooted from cabin to cabin, in a fever 
 to seize and carry the baggage of shore-going 
 passengers. 
 
 In this situation, so rich in possibilities of 
 extortion, complications, and lost luggage, I 
 cast a spell over all forces of mischief by asking 
 for Mr. Cook urbane man, speaking every 
 tongue, awaiting ships and trains by day and 
 by night, a local expert everywhere for with 
 this ubiquitous personality I had (as is the 
 wise and common practice) contracted that he 
 should be my porter, banker, and guardian 
 throughout a month's exploration in Egypt and 
 Palestine. 
 
 On boarding the ship at Alexandria, Mr. Cook 
 polite, alert, and with muscular natives in his 
 service had but one anxiety, to wit, that I 
 
4 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 should feel none. I pointed an identifying finger 
 at my two pieces of luggage in leather, with 
 camera, pith-helmet, and overcoat indicated as 
 accessory belongings ; and thereafter, the little 
 troubles of travel all delegated, I confronted 
 Alexandria with disengaged faculties. 
 
 Five weeks later I made leisurely acquaintance 
 with that city exploring its broad thorough- 
 fares and byways, and penetrating underground 
 to its newly found corridors of tombs, some still 
 holding their brown litter of mummy bones. 
 But that first day's brief drive to the railway 
 station was the vivid revelation that left 
 memories for always. 
 
 My mind was filled with delicious astonish- 
 ment, and let me note as a delicate property 
 of the experience the strange scene largely 
 owed its strangeness to being familiar. The 
 canvases of artists had been a sure preparation. 
 Those dead fragments were graphically borne 
 out by the living whole. House-fronts light in 
 hue and structure, patterned with delicate fret- 
 tings and angles ; unscreened arches as shops, 
 stored with goods rich-coloured and strange ; 
 sluggish and sunny human life, draped in white 
 and blue, these things I had seen before in 
 counterfeit, and was the more uplifted in spirit, 
 and borne on the wings of joyful astonishment, 
 now to behold them in reality. My western 
 soul feasted on the romance of the East. I 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 5 
 
 went amid bright wonders. There was a magic 
 in the sparkling air. Alexandria was the joyous 
 realization of a dream. 
 
 And so into the train for Cairo a train of 
 corridor construction, and pleasantly unfamiliar 
 in some of its outward features. But it was 
 an evidence of administrative punctiliousness 
 that first claimed my attention. On European 
 railways, when a passenger travels by a class 
 superior to that for which he holds a ticket, 
 it is usual, if the circumstance be detected, for 
 payment of the difference in fares to be required. 
 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF MODERN CAIRO 
 
6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 In Egypt the amiable logical corollary of this 
 practice finds acceptance. 
 
 In obedience to a general requisition for 
 economy with comfort, Messrs. Cook had 
 booked me second-class for this small section 
 of my travels, while two young Birmingham 
 engineers with whom I had come to terms 
 of friendship as we voyaged in company from 
 Marseilles and who also were pushing on to 
 Cairo by the first available train found them- 
 selves equipped, by the pre-arrangement of a 
 generous employer, with tickets entitling them 
 to first-class accommodation. Prompted by 
 politeness and good nature, they elected, how- 
 ever, to join me in my compartment of less 
 luxury a circumstance which inspired the 
 ticket-inspector, when he came our way and 
 realized the situation, to a sudden departure for 
 the booking-office, whence he presently came 
 running with exchanged tickets for my com- 
 panions, supplemented by a handful of coinage 
 representing the amount by which one fare 
 exceeded the other. 
 
 The train carried me into a landscape dusty 
 and archaic, with an occasional date-palm bold 
 and conspicuous, and with clusters of habita- 
 tions square, grey, and primitive. It was Africa 
 and old it was Egypt and mysterious. But, 
 ravenous as were my eyes for this banquet of 
 novelty, a passing fancy involved me in human 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 7 
 
 complications which, however I might chafe 
 under the sense of lost opportunity, for long 
 imprisoned my attention within the four walls 
 of that crowded railway carriage. 
 
 An Arab had come along the corridor hawk- 
 ing oranges, and, out of sheer appreciation of 
 the colour-harmony formed by the bronze sales- 
 man and his golden wares, I had proclaimed 
 myself by pantomime his customer. Our 
 business was transacted with simplicity and 
 dispatch. I handed that noble creature an 
 Egyptian coin of perhaps a shilling in value. 
 He, in return, gave me more oranges than I 
 could possibly need. In a word, he was pleased, 
 and I was pleased ; and there, one might have 
 thought, was an end of the matter. 
 
 But in the quiet, befezzed stranger seated 
 by my side Fate had, alas ! seen fit to endow 
 me with a friend. On a sudden he had plucked 
 my Arab by the arm, and was pouring into his 
 startled ear a torrent of talk which it needed 
 no knowledge of Arabic to identify as denuncia- 
 tion of a severely uncomplimentary order. 
 
 The vendor of fruit shrieked his denials, 
 obviously garnished with answering slanders, 
 and for many feverish moments the wordy duel 
 proceeded. Then, with injured mutterings and 
 a painful reluctance, the Arab bent over his 
 basket, whence he abstracted four more oranges, 
 which he added to my store in a manner that 
 
8 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 filled me with the guilty sense proper to an 
 extortioner. 
 
 Meanwhile my neighbour, now with a face 
 of friendship's smiles, was offering me polyglot 
 explanations, in which a splutter of Franco- 
 English was hopelessly entangled with what 
 was probably Arabic. 
 
 Yar . . . thief's of fellaheen ... I was from 
 Europe oui ? . . . a traveller to be robbed . . . 
 Ah ! he could not allow. . . . He saw ze monee 
 which F give. . . . 
 
 I thanked him. Also I essayed to explain 
 that I did not want any more oranges, and was 
 well content to pay the Arab liberally. But 
 where two persons have not a working vocabulary 
 in common, it is difficult to effect an exchange 
 of ideas, particularly when there is no sympathetic 
 anticipation of a thought to assist its reception. 
 Thus, as was easy to perceive, the only part 
 of my speech which reached the mental target 
 at which it was aimed, was that in which I 
 rendered thanks. With eager courtesy he waved 
 my acknowledgments aside, and then, suddenly 
 readjusting his countenance to an expression of 
 ferocity, he once more fell upon the unhappy 
 Arab. 
 
 Out of the depths of my helplessness I per- 
 ceived that the encounter, so far from being 
 over, had merely entered upon a second stage. 
 Two snakes at deadly feud could hardly have 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 9 
 
 confronted one another with more hissing hostility. 
 V^ainly did I strive to stay the double cataract 
 of personality and Arabic expletives (for, as I 
 have hinted, the general purport of the unknown 
 words could be apprehended without a dictionary). 
 Under the stimulus either of what he was giving 
 or receiving, my companion's face gradually 
 assumed a lively red ; while the Arab, amid his 
 shrieking protests, ever and anon turned his eye- 
 balls upward, as though asking the heavens to 
 witness how deeply he was wronged. 
 
 Even while the din was thus at its full, I 
 chanced to note the passengers seated not two 
 yards away on the other side of the corridor. A 
 grave senior raised his eyes, but only temporarily, 
 from his Arabic newspaper, while his fellows 
 continued to peruse the world's tidings with 
 impassive faces. I reflected in amazement that 
 they could not have manifested less concern if 
 this were the usual way of buying oranges in 
 Egypt a supposition destined, on more intimate 
 knowledge of the East, to prove far less 
 extravagant than might be supposed. 
 
 Once more my defender gained an advantage. 
 For the salesman again stooped and, with grievous 
 lamentations, surrendered four more of his oranges 
 into my custody. 
 
 And now came a staggering development. 
 Blind and deaf to my desire for peace and an 
 opportunity to scrutinize the passing landscape 
 
io A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 (accidental glimpses torturing me with a sense 
 of what I was missing), the zealous stranger 
 thrust forth his two hands and began to plunder 
 the Arab's stock-in-trade, tossing into my lap 
 the proceeds of his ruthless enterprise, so that 
 my Birmingham friends, seeing me rapidly 
 qualifying to open a fruit shop, waxed merry 
 at my expense. 
 
 As for the Arab, his case grew critical. 
 Waving his arms in an ecstasy of passion, he 
 spat words of vitriol at his persecutor. Then, 
 suddenly and mysteriously, he scored. The 
 strenuous guardian of my pocket was as one 
 stung. His lips and eyelids quivered, the whole 
 man a prey to emotion. Some verbal shaft, 
 cunningly envenomed by that sore-tried son of 
 the desert, had gone rankling into the living 
 flesh. 
 
 The unclean dog, my wounded companion 
 confided to me in panting speech, had cursed 
 him with the worst of all curses (a disparaging 
 allusion, so far as I understood, to the religion 
 of his ancestors) ; and, rising wrathfully from his 
 seat, he laid some proposition before me with 
 great wealth of gesture and superfluous volu- 
 bility. For in his exceeding excitement my 
 friend forgot that his words were not my words, 
 so that the meaning was wholly lost upon me. 
 And the next minute he hurried away down 
 the corridor, while the Arab, seizing his basket, 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 1 1 
 
 made off with equal celerity in the opposite 
 direction. 
 
 Nor was I left long to wonder what this new 
 turn of events might signify. Anon my bene- 
 factor came hurrying back, every line of his 
 flushed face testifying to the triumphant exercise 
 of an iron will. He was not alone. Behind 
 him strode a massive military man with sword 
 and epaulettes. 
 
 Honouring me with a bow, the new-comer 
 (who looked nothing less than a colonel to my 
 civilian eye) said he understood 1 desired that 
 the orange-seller should be put in prison for 
 cheating ; and his gracious manner seemed to 
 suggest that I had only to say the word and 
 he would cut the rascal in twain with that 
 big, bright sword. 
 
 It was an anxious position, though happily 
 one from which the gorgeous official's fine com- 
 mand of English removed the element of chance. 
 I at least was able to make known my unalter- 
 able will that the Arab should be left at liberty, 
 though the pair of them insisted on accepting 
 me in the character of a magnanimous English- 
 man who had successfully pleaded the cause of a 
 thieving villain. 
 
 The withdrawal of that majestic figure in 
 uniform may be said to have marked the com- 
 pletion of my little purchase. But 1 was left 
 with the consequences of the act. It dismayed 
 
12 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 me to reflect under what a load of obligation 
 I lay to my painstaking protector, now once 
 more seated peacefully by my side. 
 
 I offered him some oranges if secretly 
 conscious of a motive other than hospitality 
 but he politely shook his head and indicated 
 a disinclination for the fruit. The Birmingham 
 lads also declined my proffered bounty, though 
 in their case the refusal was, as I knew, merely 
 malicious, and arose from their private enjoy- 
 ment of my embarrassment as, tightly wedged 
 in my seat, I had perforce to engage both arms 
 in the business of retaining my absurd lapful 
 of yellow globes (how willingly, to be rid of 
 them, would I have given twice what they had 
 cost !), while my attention was at its full stretch 
 to glean some fragments of meaning from the 
 amiable discourse with which I was favoured by 
 my neighbour. 
 
 For, conscious of having done me a substantial 
 service, the gentleman in a fez had, as is a 
 common sequel to kindness with impetuous 
 natures, entered into a fraternal sense of property 
 in my personality. 
 
 He was at great pains to tell me all about 
 himself, his family, and his business ; and, so far 
 as I could interpret the verbal hotch-potch with 
 which he sought to counteract my linguistic 
 deficiencies, he was a sort of African Spaniard, 
 who gained a livelihood by exporting westward 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 13 
 
 the eggs of Egyptian poultry. He seemed a 
 little wounded when I had to confess, in reply 
 to definite questions, that in my comings and 
 goings in Europe I had never knowingly seen 
 any of the goods with which he nourished the 
 peoples of that region. 
 
 In response to an eager catechism, I had to 
 explain as best I could not merely who and 
 what I was, but whence I came, whither I was 
 going, how much I supposed my journey would 
 cost, whether I was married, and many other 
 matters apparently of vital moment to the egg- 
 exporter. Thus much more time ran to waste, 
 for the obligations of courtesy and gratitude, 
 fortified by a sense of what was obviously 
 expected of me, forbade more than an occasional 
 glance out of window. 
 
 But at last we came to a station where, with 
 many cordial farewells, the man of business 
 alighted. And now was Egypt mine to see. 
 
 It was a landscape, not of grass and trees, but 
 of dry mud and greyness, with occasional areas 
 of green crops. It looked like part of another 
 world, and very old. I had never dreamt to 
 find Egypt so Egyptian. Here and there one 
 saw the people, in dark flowing draperies, the 
 men bare-legged. Upright, impassive, and full 
 of grave dignity, they moved slowly in a line 
 along the roads and across the land strings 
 of men, and women, and camels. And certain 
 
14 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 patriarchs, bearing long staves in their hands, 
 rode on asses, like figures in a dream. 
 
 Moreover, the train itself being invisible from 
 the train, there was no sign of modern Western 
 influence. Some of the empty land was faintly 
 coloured with moisture, and the wetting of it 
 was plainly visible as a great national industry. 
 Those picturesque creatures it was not difficult 
 to realize were engaged in an occupation as old 
 as history. 
 
 Looking out upon that flat and venerable 
 country, I strove to grasp the marvel of its 
 water-supply. Suffering under the disability of 
 having no rain or none worth mentioning 
 Egypt, one might suppose, would be incapable 
 of growing so much as a patch of potatoes. 
 Yet, as we all learnt at school, Egypt maintains 
 a high repute for agricultural fertility, raising 
 impressive quantities of wheat, sugar-cane, cotton, 
 and lentils. And it is all done, as my school- 
 master tried to make me understand, by the 
 annual overflow of the Nile by a solitary 
 and protracted fresh-water flood-tide by a 
 phenomenon identical with that which lies 
 behind the frequent announcement in English 
 newspapers, " Floods in the Thames Valley." 
 
 For if Egypt has no rain of its own, it has, 
 during several weeks of summer, a swollen 
 river of borrowed rain rain that has fallen in 
 tropical torrents three thousand miles away in 
 
What Egypt Looks Like 
 
 l S 
 
 'OXEN OR BUFFALOES HARNESSED TO POLES" 
 
 the heart of Africa. This, the bath water of 
 many crocodiles, is cloudy with plant-forming 
 particles which, when the floods subside, leave 
 themselves as a new layer of the rich soil they 
 have slowly built up in the centuries. 
 
 When, seated in the journeying train, I came 
 to have a definite curiosity concerning this 
 matter, we chanced to be passing a small canal, 
 still and muddy doubtless a stored streak of 
 last year's bounty. The simple task of those 
 dignified Egyptians some with their naked 
 brown bodies flashing in the sunlight was to 
 raise the water a few feet to the level whence 
 it could trickle in tiny rivulets over the land. 
 They attained their purpose by means primitive, 
 
\ 
 
 1 6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 various, and picturesque. Oxen or buffaloes 
 harnessed to poles walked round and round in 
 a monotony of patient circles, turning a large 
 wheel hung with earthen jars, which, rising full 
 of water from the canal, automatically yielded 
 their contents at the top level, and pursued 
 their circular course to scoop up more this 
 being the famous sakieh. 
 
 Elsewhere the shadoof exhibited against the 
 sky its conspicuous lanky pole, a man easily 
 manipulating the pendant bucket at one end 
 because, at the other, a rude weight counter- 
 poised the lever. Still elsewhere sturdy fellows 
 stood knee-deep in the cloudy liquid, and baled 
 it up into a projecting gutter. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Cairo and its Wonders 
 
 A dazzling city Engaging a dragoman In the golden desert 
 The pyramids Arabs whining for baksheesh On the Great 
 Pyramid : an undignified adventure The Sphinx A thrifty 
 photographer In an Arab village Deserted homes of Mecca 
 pilgrims Mirth turned to mourning : a piteous sight Old 
 Cairo The Nileometer. 
 
 /^AIRO made my eyeballs ache. It is a 
 ^-^ city of coloured splendour, alive and 
 moving, with a hundred gay pigments astir in 
 the sunshine, and every thoroughfare stuffed 
 full, as it seems, of processioning and pageantry. 
 But all those ribbons of tangled prettiness are 
 but the everyday pedestrian traffic. It is you, 
 English tourists in tweeds, who are the curiosity, 
 and how dingily discordant ! 
 
 Of my first walk in Cairo a vivid memory 
 remains of side streets old, untidy, and wondrous 
 picturesque. In one I had to tread cautiously 
 amid little communities of young rabbits and 
 chickens, the unpaved side- walk suffering further 
 encroachment from the presence of their owners, 
 a-squat upon the ground, patiently awaiting 
 
 2 17 
 
1 8 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 custom. Later, the overtures of a stately Arab 
 in gorgeous attire, who offered himself as my 
 guide, occurred at a moment when, having just 
 seen my Birmingham friends depart by train for 
 Assouan, a sense of loneliness was upon me. So, 
 as we walked together awhile in that dazzling 
 wonderland, I promised to consider his suggestion ; 
 and next morning, on finding this resplendent 
 Eastern haunting the portals of my hotel, I 
 consented that he should conduct me to the 
 pyramids. 
 
 We walked through the Cairo of official 
 residences and wealth, where broad thoroughfares 
 planted with acacia trees gave entrance to stately 
 white mansions a quarter of the city that 
 savoured rather of Belgravia than Egypt. 
 
 Coming presently to a fine bridge spanning 
 the Nile, we crossed, to find ourselves in a 
 thoroughfare through which, in a green procession 
 of varied zoological interest, the produce of 
 agricultural Egypt was in transit. There were 
 laden carts drawn by oxen, followed by sturdy 
 donkeys thatched with sugar-canes. Also came 
 many a moving stack of clover or cotton, whence 
 scanty details of a camel's anatomy pathetically 
 protruded. 
 
 Hard by we took our seats in a smart electric 
 tramcar, which swiftly carried us within sight of 
 the pyramids, figuring still, solemn, and sub- 
 stantial against the sky. On alighting, you pass 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 
 
 19 
 
 by an ascending sandy road through a fore- 
 ground of modernity hotel, post office, and 
 antiquity shop. Thereafter the road, losing its 
 semblance of solidity, becomes fine sand, yielding 
 to the foot. The stone boundaries taper to a 
 termination, and you step out into the golden 
 desert, which has a surface of broken hillocks 
 and wavy unevenness, like a petrified sea. 
 
 Just ahead lay the Great 
 Pyramid, with some less 
 exalted counterparts 
 looming behind. Like 
 a scattered colony 
 of ants, Arabs 
 were dotted about 
 the sand hawks 
 eager to prey 
 on the tourist 
 pigeons ; fine-looking fellows, who worship just 
 the one thing baksheesh. They are perpetually 
 praying, quarrelling, whining for it they will 
 even work for it. 
 
 The importunities of those Arabs are, indeed, 
 a trying supplement to the unmitigated sunshine. 
 Usually baksheesh is demanded for no other 
 reason, apparently, than because the applicant 
 would like some ; but occasionally the plea will 
 be speciously based on a service rendered an 
 unsought and undesired service. Thus, as we 
 advanced towards the Great Pyramid a brown- 
 
20 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 skinned impostor ambled ahead, and, with many 
 graphic gestures, pointed out the edifice lest, 
 peradventure, we had not noticed it and then, 
 strenuously demanding payment for this service, 
 he sought to emphasise his claim by plucking 
 at my coat a liberty that prompted me to 
 rebuke him in terms which, if only he had 
 understood them, might have sown seeds of 
 shame and penitence in that bosom. 
 
 I calculate that if I had given a gratuity to 
 every bronzed creature who asked for one, my 
 visit to the East would have cost scarce less than 
 a small battleship. Happily there was the com- 
 forting thought that, in brushing aside all these 
 appeals, one was assisting to build up national 
 character. Such individual effort could, perhaps, 
 usefully be supplemented by instruction in 
 Government schools, so that the younger genera- 
 tion might grow up to realize that begging is not 
 quite the thing. 
 
 Inherited tendencies notwithstanding, there is 
 a good basis to work upon. For those Arabs 
 carry themselves with lofty poise of head, and 
 there are rich streaks of pride in their nature. 
 Thus, even on a first day's acquaintance, my 
 dragoman was careful to reveal himself as a 
 person holding several titles to the world's 
 esteem. The son of a sheik, one article of attire 
 he wore cost more, as on a careful comparison of 
 prices I was fain to admit, than the whole of my 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 
 
 21 
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE GREAT PYRAMID. MY GUIDES 
 
 wardrobe a discovery, by the by, on which I 
 based a suggestion for some abatement of the 
 fee payable for his companionship ; thougli on 
 that point he proved unalterable. Again, this 
 stately Oriental owned broad and fertile acres, 
 besides an Arab mare of prized pedigree, and 
 fleet of foot beyond the ordinary. 
 
 My climbing of the Great Pyramid proved an 
 affair of which the countrymen of Earl Cromer 
 and Viscount Kitchener have no occasion to be 
 proud. Of the thousands who have essayed the 
 exploit, I did not hear of one, man, woman, or 
 child, who failed quite so ignominiously as did I. 
 
22 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 It was all due to a curious oversight. Standing 
 at the base of that mountain of man's making, 
 which rose to the sky in receding terraces of 
 stone, I was so exalted by a sense of the capacity 
 of ancient Egyptians that I forgot about a small 
 defect in the physical equipment of my modern 
 self. 
 
 A group of four Arabs offering, for a suf- 
 ficiently moderate sum, to conduct me to the 
 top, I consented to their proposal without a 
 second thought ; and next minute we began the 
 excursion skyward which was to end with so 
 little credit to myself. Mounting from stone to 
 stone involves some tolerably severe stretching 
 of the legs, but my experienced guides selected a 
 course which took advantage of all easy steps 
 afforded by broken masonry, while my difficulties 
 were further qualified by an Arab arm stretched 
 down now and then to assist in hauling me up, not 
 to mention an occasional friendly push behind. 
 
 Climbing up high ledges in the broiling Sahara 
 proved very warm work ; and several times I 
 made respectful suggestion that we might tarry 
 awhile by the way. 
 
 " Not yet ! Not yet ! " responded the leader 
 of the expedition, and in a manner so firm that, 
 hot and panting, I lacked the energy to oppose 
 his will. But at last, when by my reckoning we 
 must be near the top of the pyramid, however 
 high it might be, I sat me down, protesting that 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 23 
 
 whatever views my companions might hold upon 
 the point, I meant to have a rest. 
 
 " But," exclaimed the Arab in authority, 
 " English gentleman not gone quarter part the 
 way ! Not yet a long time is the top of the 
 pyramid ! Up, up to go three more times than 
 he come ! " 
 
 Very likely. But I had ceased to be interested 
 in the top of the pyramid. My highest aspiration 
 now was to reach the bottom. Having for the 
 first time looked below, I had gone sick and 
 giddy. The depressed perspective had refused 
 to get into focus, my brain was swimming, and 
 I could not feel my feet. 
 
 Now came the tardy remembrance that I am 
 not endowed with the capacity to scale altitudes. 
 There returned a memory, ten years old, of 
 crossing a plank in a martello tower, when, on 
 gazing down at a heaving chasm, I lost authority 
 over my limbs. And on that occasion too late I 
 remembered as, again too late, I now recalled 
 a boyhood's escapade of going up a ladder to 
 the housetop, where I awoke to sensations of 
 helplessness and terror, and narrowly escaped 
 a catastrophe. 
 
 With shut eyes I told the Arab chieftain how 
 the matter stood that I was dazed and dizzy, 
 and that, so far as I could diagnose the situation, 
 nothing now remained but for me to topple over 
 and descend in a long series of soft thuds from 
 
24 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 projection to projection of that stupendous stone 
 staircase. 
 
 !' I am a sheik," he replied, " Sheik Issa 
 Abdoul!" 
 
 Not quite seeing what that had to do with it, 
 I opened my eyes to find him striking an 
 attitude and proudly patting his distended bosom. 
 
 His next words were more to the point : 
 " With me no harm anybody can take ! " and, 
 in view of the healthy optimism of this sentiment, 
 I readily overlooked its appalling egotism. 
 
 Sitting on the stonework by my side, the 
 Sheik, inspired by that hint of how I might 
 descend, spluttered out detailed accounts, very 
 graphic and gory, of men who had gone down 
 that way. At the risk of seeming rude, I told 
 him that his anecdotes did not interest me. 
 Then he spoke of " other " distinguished English- 
 men (note the Sheik's business acumen) whom 
 he had escorted up the pyramid. But, indeed, 
 I was paying scant attention, and my response 
 bore solely on the problem how to return alive 
 to the remote sandy surface of the earth. 
 
 "The Englishman is not afraid," cried the 
 Sheik, with expostulatory palms uplifted. " No, 
 no not afraid ! " 
 
 I begged his pardon. I was afraid nay, as 
 he could see for himself, I was, as some of my 
 countrymen would put it, " in a blue funk." 
 
 At this a gladness came over the Arab, and, 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 25 
 
 with many repetitions under his breath, he 
 carefully memorised the prized addition to his 
 English vocabulary, with intent, as I could not 
 doubt, to rap it out upon the next European 
 he escorted aloft. 
 
 What was of more moment to me, he removed 
 his turban and unwound it to such a length of 
 folded cotton material that, after tying one end 
 round my waist as harness, enough remained 
 in his hand to serve as reins. For, much more 
 scientific than dignified, this arrangement was 
 a little like playing at horses. 
 
 The Sheik holding me in leash from behind, 
 a barefooted Arab was my escort on either side, 
 while yet a third, prepared for all emergencies, 
 went in front. Thus slowly they brought the 
 panic-stricken Alpinist back to mother-earth. 
 
 Of several titles to my esteem won by those 
 children of sun and sand, not the least concerned 
 their virtuous forbearance in not suggesting, 
 when I quaked helpless at their mercy on that 
 mammoth monument, some expansion of the 
 modest payment with which I had contracted 
 to reward their services. And when, let me 
 bear further testimony, I supplemented the 
 agreed sum with a small bonus, their gratitude 
 was gratifying. 
 
 I rejoined my patient dragoman, and we 
 sauntered some little way across the sandy 
 undulations until, of a sudden, I beheld that 
 
26 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 female stone thing of mystery and delight the 
 Sphinx, battered but beautiful. 
 
 There she stood, clean and still, in a smooth 
 hollow. 
 
 She is neither large nor small. For her creator 
 was an artist in proportion, and remembered 
 that pyramids were near. The spectator's only 
 sense of strangeness in size is that human beings 
 thereabouts are tiny. When an Arab clambered 
 up the Sphinx and stood beneath her chin, 
 behold an upright insect ! 
 
 To gaze at leisure on the mutilated beauty, 
 I sat down to my lunch before her in which 
 lowly situation I early noted large black ants 
 busily perambulating the sand. Hafez, my 
 dragoman, had gone apart to breathe his midday 
 prayers ; but I did not lack for company. A 
 dozen or so Arabs collected about me, and, with 
 patient reiteration, joined in an earnest but 
 unavailing request for baksheesh. 
 
 Then came a Western to sit down coolly 
 beside me, and this on the strength of no 
 more acquaintance than arose from our having 
 journeyed side by side on the car, and exchanged 
 some talk by the way. I had then learnt for 
 he was an American, and greatly interested in 
 himself that, a schoolmaster by profession, and 
 having a mind to explore the world, he had 
 contracted to supply a stereoscopic company 
 with views of famous spots he visited ; thus 
 
'THE SPHINX, BATTERED BUT BEAUTIFUL' 
 
 27 
 
28 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 utilizing a proficiency in photography to cover 
 the cost of his travels. 
 
 By voyaging on a cargo steamer in a capacity, 
 as it seemed to me, little removed from a 
 stowaway, he had made his slow and circuitous 
 passage from America to Egypt at a total outlay 
 of 9 ; and he plumed himself on the fact that, 
 in a back room of an obscure street in Cairo, he 
 was living on next to nothing a day. 
 
 With glance fixed respectfully on my tomatoes 
 and cold chicken, he now asked if I knew where 
 he could obtain food without being imposed 
 upon in the matter of price ; and, partly by 
 way of plumbing human character, I told him 
 he was welcome to the bulk of my lunch, as 
 in that hot weather half a roll and a small 
 tomato would serve my needs. 
 
 " Really ! " he exclaimed, his eyes bright with 
 emotion. " Oh, thank you, thank you very 
 much " ; and, lifting my laden napkin to his 
 lap, he fell to with an alacrity suggestive of 
 a fear that I might change my mind. And 
 the wondering Arabs watched, still droning 
 their vain appeal for pecuniary assistance. 
 
 Our meal over, the zealous apostle of thrift 
 bustled off to his camera, where I presently 
 noted him in passionate altercation with a 
 picturesque patriarch holding a richly capari- 
 soned camel. Presently my late guest came 
 hurrying back with a moving tale to unfold. 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 29 
 
 Desiring that venerable man and beast as 
 foreground accessories to his view of the Sphinx, 
 he had planted his tripod in a situation to 
 capture their images in a happy relation to the 
 monument ; but the wily old Arab, scenting the 
 scheme ere time sufficed for its accomplishment, 
 had not merely withdrawn with his quadruped 
 from the lens's field of vision, but had obstinately 
 declined to return thither until a money payment 
 was promised him. 
 
 Finding reproaches and appeals alike unavail- 
 ing, the stereoscopist had at last been reduced 
 to discussing terms which had given occasion, 
 as I could well believe, to a lively exchange 
 of conflicting ideas ; and now, having gotten the 
 ancient down to his lowest figure (which also 
 I could well believe), the schoolmaster came to 
 me with a business proposition. 
 
 I, like himself, had a camera, and I doubtless, 
 no less than he, would wish the man and camel 
 in my picture ; so what did 1 say to sharing 
 the payment ? That my assent took a load 
 off his mind was attested by the nimble gait 
 in which he went off to pose the models how he 
 wanted them ; and next minute we were releasing 
 our focal-plane shutters. 1 took three views, 
 and, as though blindly emulating that pattern of 
 thrift, I took them all, as was afterwards to be 
 revealed, on one plate. 
 
 When my dragoman returned, he and I went 
 
30 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 exploring tombs and dungeons in the vicinity, 
 and anon were sauntering in an Arab village 
 close thereby. White flags over certain doors 
 bore witness that the faithful had gone on 
 pilgrimage to Mecca. One flag hung limp and 
 worn, while the dust of many winds had sealed 
 up the entrance, and my companion, telling 
 of grievous butcheries on the road to Mahomet's 
 tomb, shook his head dismally. 
 
 Sufficient population remained to lend interest 
 and animation to the village. A group of 
 veiled girls were so gracious as laughingly to 
 tolerate my audacity in taking their photograph, 
 while a few bright, brown, naked children 
 followed in our wake, wondering but unafraid. 
 
 Outside the village store we found an evening 
 group of gossiping elders, with youngsters 
 engaged in solemn pastimes ; and a spirit of 
 leisurely homeliness entered so conspicuously into 
 the assembly that I was moved, not merely 
 to pause in the midst of those people, but to 
 proffer them, through the dragoman, my best 
 compliments. 
 
 This friendly overture met with a cordial 
 response, and, chancing to cast my eyes on a 
 male infant of some comeliness, I jestingly 
 offered to purchase the little creature for eight 
 piastres (say Is. l\d. in our coinage) and carry 
 him away with me to England. On learning in 
 Arabic what I had been pleased to propose, the 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 
 
 3' 
 
 company gave vent to bright guffaws that needed 
 no translation, and whereof a further chorus was 
 provoked when a woman, asquat beside the 
 juvenile, threw back at us some answering words. 
 
 " She thank you vair much," interpreted my 
 dignified companion, " but she say him a good 
 boy and she not think she sell him." 
 
 " Bravo ! " was scarce out of my mouth when 
 that happened which left me open-eyed with 
 astonishment. Silence and a new spirit had 
 
 AT THE ARAB VILLAGE 
 
32 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 descended on all those people, and with one 
 accord they went hurrying across the sandy 
 arena, and passed as a precipitate procession 
 into an alley that pierced the warren of little 
 mud homes. 
 
 Instinctively we strode after them, Hafez to 
 my eager questions replying that some one must 
 be dead. And soon he had the facts. 
 
 Several days before, an Arab youth of that 
 village, walking upon the carriage road, was 
 run over by the brougham of a Bey, receiving 
 injuries for which he was taken to a Cairo 
 hospital. News had just arrived that he had 
 died ; and at once the wailing relatives, followed 
 by their sympathizing neighbours, were setting 
 forth to bring back the body, that they might 
 give it immediate sepulture in the sand. I 
 caught a glimpse of the bereaved father at the 
 head of that sad procession. The poor old Arab 
 was rending his garments as he ran. 
 
 When presently Hafez and I passed out of 
 the village, the last of its inhabitants that we 
 saw was an ancient figure in rags engaged with 
 feeble hands in making cakes of dung, which 
 he set in the sunlight to dry for fuel. This old 
 man, Hafez told me, had no kinsfolk, and was 
 very poor. 
 
 On subsequent days T became acquainted with 
 some of Cairo's many wonders. Superb views 
 leave a memory of countless domes and minarets 
 
Harold Copping. 
 
 An Arab boy 
 
Cairo and its Wonders 33 
 
 shining in a golden perspective from the Citadel. 
 In the noble Museum I found Rameses II. as a 
 disrobed mummy, and still with a relic of yellow 
 hair attached to his venerable cranium. 
 
 A journey to Old Cairo (less difficult than 
 going by the " Tube " from Chancery Lane to 
 the Marble Arch) transferred me to a region of 
 picturesque and malodorous poverty, whereof 
 my mind preserves the hateful picture of an old 
 woman sitting asleep by the roadway, with flies 
 resting in crowded circles about her inflamed 
 eyelids. Thence we took boat across a narrow 
 stretch of Nile to Roda Island, which proved 
 full of the quiet spirit proper to a monastery. 
 In a dank chamber, having features in common 
 with a tomb and a well, I beheld the famous 
 Nileometer a stone column with measurements 
 marked off as a constant index to the level of 
 the river. 
 
 Passing through irrigated gardens of leafy 
 shade and unfamiliar flowers, I came to a spot, 
 marked by a palm, where, according to Arab 
 tradition, Moses was found in the bulrushes. 
 To view the site at better advantage, I de- 
 scended neighbouring steps and walked out 
 upon the broad stretch of dry Nile mud. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A Mohammedan Horror 
 
 Dancing and howling dervishes Asleep among the sugar-canes 
 On the Nile by starlight Crocodiles and a superstition The 
 Moharram celebration In a panic-stricken multitude Tbe 
 people beaten by soldiers An awful procession Self-inflicted 
 wounds The Suez Canal Over-zealous porters at Port Said. 
 
 "/^|NE reform my country needs," said a young 
 ^^^ Egyptian doctor with whom I became 
 acquainted, "is the substitution of capable and 
 educated guides for our present dragomans." 
 He found himself with leisure, it happily chanced, 
 to demonstrate, in his own person, how greatly 
 a visitor would benefit by the innovation. 
 
 Under the doctor's escort I saw the dervishes. 
 First we visited the "dancing" variety, who, 
 in their circular mosque, spin round and round 
 on twinkling feet with such sustained dexterity 
 that the spectator, growing giddy and weary, 
 is apt to turn his back on an unfinished per- 
 formance. The "howlers," flinging about their 
 bodies and persistently uttering dolorous groans, 
 pleased me even less. Indeed, with money 
 
 34 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 35 
 
 charged for admission, and an area railed off 
 for strangers, the element of show is in both 
 cases more manifest than any spirit of spon- 
 taneous piety. 
 
 Also my friend bethought him, as a way to 
 give me pleasure, of a row on the Nile by star- 
 light ; and thus, when the night had come, and 
 after an experience of Turkish confectionery, 
 we walked to the river and crossed the suspen- 
 sion bridge. This was to find ourselves in the 
 al fresco sugar-cane market, where pans of glow- 
 ing charcoal (means of making coffee) shed their 
 ghostly illumination on recumbent figures asleep 
 under the trees a place of mystery, and very 
 quiet. 
 
 I had never tasted sugar-cane ; and the doctor, 
 on learning this, insisted that I must not miss 
 my present opportunity. Wherefore the next 
 minute was he stooping over a great blue 
 bundle of snoring unconsciousness, to which he 
 addressed words loud and insistent. At his 
 reiterated Arabic, the blue bundle resolved 
 itself into an old Egyptian of chocolate-coloured 
 visage, who, getting asquat, blinked at us with 
 sleepy, plaintive eyes. 
 
 On surrendering a little piastre, we had per- 
 mission to take three canes from a neighbouring 
 pile, the venerable merchant being positively too 
 sleepy to engage in the customary attempt to 
 secure excessive payment. The doctor selected 
 
$6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 canes he judged to be juicy, and the old man 
 went to sleep again. 
 
 My lesson was easy to learn. You tear off 
 the bark with your teeth, one segment at a time, 
 and you suck and chew the remaining white 
 stick. Chatting and munching and smacking 
 our lips, we strolled to the water's edge, where 
 I made confession that the juice was running 
 down my arm. That, the doctor explained, was 
 a common experience of the novice. 
 
 " If you be not careful," he added, " it will 
 also trickle down your chest." 
 
 Creeping along a gangway, he peered beneath 
 the awning of a yacht, saying, " Ali ! Ali ! " 
 softly. 
 
 Again and again he spoke that name, but 
 always with no result. My friend's gentle voice, 
 the lapping of the water, and night-birds calling 
 over Ghizeh way, were the only sounds that 
 broke the stillness of the night. 
 
 " I can see him," whispered the doctor ; " but 
 he is sound asleep." 
 
 " Give him a prod," I suggested. 
 
 He administered the restorative and woke up 
 the wrong man. But the sweet temper of the 
 Egyptian sailor was proof against this severe 
 provocation. He indicated the near vessel on 
 which Ali slumbered, and straightway returned 
 to his dreams. Obeying this sure direction, the 
 doctor soon had Ali awake and grinning. 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 37 
 
 A lithe Soudanese sailor boy is Ali, and it 
 was good to see him clutch gratefully at the 
 proffered sugar-cane. In a little while he and 
 we, in a broad thick boat with heavy oars, were 
 floating on the broad bosom of the Nile in the 
 calm light of the stars. 
 
 The doctor and I laboured in turns at the 
 rowlocks ; then, surrendering the oars to Ali, we 
 talked of Egypt a theme, as 1 knew, dear to 
 my companion's heart. 
 
 But he spoke of modern Egypt, whereas, 
 when we grew silent under the night's solemn 
 influence, it was of ancient Egypt that I thought 
 the Egypt of an early civilization dating into 
 the dim past, with its hallowed drama of a 
 people held in bondage, and its sacred page of 
 history concerning a Child and all mankind for 
 ever. And I had seen the image of that Egypt 
 surviving, not indeed in the cities, but in the 
 landscapes of brown earth with camels and date- 
 palms and figures gowned in white or blue. 
 Out on the Nile, in the black Egyptian night, the 
 past became one with the present. 
 
 As we glided beside the banks of the Island of 
 Roda, a fishing-boat crossed our bow, and we 
 could see the faces of the fishermen by the light 
 of their lantern. The two men who rowed were 
 singing in the soft, nasal Arabic. 
 
 Dipping my hand in the Nile, I found the 
 temperature pleasant. So I playfully challenged 
 
38 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Ali to a swim. The doctor interpreted my 
 suggestion and its reception. 
 
 " He says he is afraid of crocodiles." 
 
 " But there are no crocodiles here." 
 
 " There are none really, as he knows. But 
 it is a superstition that one might come in the 
 night." 
 
 Nor did that row on the Nile complete the 
 experiences I owed to the young doctor's friend- 
 ship. Next evening he took me to see an 
 annual event of awful interest : the Moharram 
 celebration of the Shiites one of the two prin- 
 cipal Mohammedan sects. We walked through 
 many streets, and soon were among a throng of 
 people all hurrying in the same direction. 
 
 Coming presently to the Sharia Darb-el-Gedid, 
 I looked upon a strange scene. It was as though 
 the population of Cairo was massed in that 
 thoroughfare. We two were in the dense and 
 perturbed stream of new arrivals moving along 
 the roadway. But the ample illumination re- 
 vealed, to right and left, a huge waiting assembly 
 monopolizing every point of observation. On 
 the pavement a front row of spectators sat upon 
 the kerb, others behind them occupied a double 
 row of chairs, while still others, tightly wedged 
 together, stood in the background. All the 
 windows, wide open, framed human faces in 
 close clusters mainly the faces of women and 
 children. 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 
 
 39 
 
 
 THE SPHINX FROM BEHIND 
 
 To see the former, even thus vaguely, was a 
 new experience for me. For, under security of 
 remoteness and artificial light, there was almost 
 universal omission of the veil and nose-shield, 
 which serve by day to render Mohammedan 
 women either hidden or hideous. Even the 
 housetops were fringed with people, figuring 
 darkly against the sky. 
 
 It was close on the time for the Persian 
 
40 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 procession to come. But here were we, a help- 
 less multitude, in possession of the roadway. 
 That we must be headed back, and driven into 
 the side streets, appeared inevitable. But^ I 
 asked myself, would all these people submit to 
 be cheated of the sensation for which they clearly 
 were so eager ? A contrast indeed this situation 
 afforded to the elaborate precautions with which, 
 in anticipation of street pageantry, the London 
 authorities preserve an open roadway. 
 
 There was a violent development. The air 
 became full of frenzied shouting, and the people 
 poured helter-skelter back. Thanks to the 
 doctor's prompt action, we two maintained our 
 ground. Dragging me after him in an iron 
 grip, he set an example, which I was not slow 
 to follow, of clinging to a post standing beside 
 the kerb. Thus, as the human avalanche swept 
 by, we were able to resist its pressure. 
 
 And soon I saw the cause of the scurrying 
 commotion. A company of Cairo's soldier- 
 police (who go armed with sword and pistol) 
 were driving and beating the people. It was 
 their way of clearing a passage for the pro- 
 cession. 
 
 With infinite displeasure I beheld those canes 
 raining blows on fellaheen and bedouins, fleeing 
 and full of fear. Even when some poor fellow 
 was singled out for sustained chasing and chas- 
 tisement, he offered neither resistance nor 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 41 
 
 remonstrance, his effort being solely directed 
 to reach cover in the retreating throng. 
 
 Should I also, with indignant wonder I asked 
 myself, be thrashed for the mere offence of 
 standing in the roadway ? No ; those diplo- 
 matic brown soldiers drew the line at assaulting 
 an Englishman. A friendly official gesture 
 directed us to slip through the cordon, and so 
 find roomy asylum in the stretch of roadway 
 already partly cleared. 
 
 Presently our companions in that arena were 
 filled anew with panic, and went stampeding 
 by us. Again, withstanding the pressure of the 
 populace, we saw the cause of this second rout 
 in the advance of a squad of mounted men, also 
 slashing freely with their canes, and slewing 
 round their horses to the further discomfiture 
 of tardy fugitives. 
 
 Once more it became a theme of anxious 
 speculation whether events would justify the 
 doctor's faith in the protective influence of my 
 nationality. A beautiful white horse advanced 
 upon us, its rider, with an angry show of teeth, 
 vigorously belabouring Cairo's submissive citi- 
 zens. Already a reckless arm was raised to 
 smite us, when timely recognition stayed the 
 blow, and, with hasty wave of hand, we were 
 given safe conduct between the horses. The 
 anxious soldier, by further signs, directed that, 
 instead of lingering in the cleared roadway, we 
 
42 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 must seek asylum among spectators to right 
 or left. 
 
 This proved no easy matter. Crushing our 
 way across the pavement, we entered a small 
 hotel, yet only to learn that, all his windows 
 let, the proprietor could merely offer us standing- 
 room upon the roof. Desiring a more advan- 
 tageous situation, we returned to the roadway, 
 and finally, after several other vain excursions 
 into the throng, secured, in return for ample 
 payment, two chairs before a little Turkish 
 coffee-shop. 
 
 We were just in time. With wild and dismal 
 incantations came the head of the procession 
 young men carrying flaming braziers high over- 
 head. A second company of beacon-bearers 
 were grouped about a man astride a richly 
 caparisoned steed, from which elevation he was 
 able, with resin-saturated sticks, to replenish 
 the surrounding cages of fire. A few paces 
 behind walked a led horse, also gorgeously 
 draped, and with a helmet fixed conspicuously 
 on his back. Next we saw another group of 
 young men carrying braziers, which illumined 
 a sad, strange horse following them with falter- 
 ing footsteps. This animal's head hung low, 
 and its body was draped with a great white 
 sheet, penetrated by arrows, and with ghastly 
 splashes of crimson below their points of 
 entrance. 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 43 
 
 "That is blood," my Egyptian friend whis- 
 pered. " This represents the horse of Hussein, 
 who was killed by Yazid with an arrow Saidna 
 Hussein these Persians call him, ' Saidna ' mean- 
 ing Our Master.' Hussein was a kinsman of 
 Mahomet, and the murder took place soon after 
 the Prophet's death. These Shiites hold the 
 curious belief that Ali, Hussein's father, should 
 have received the messages that were conveyed 
 through Mahomet. This tenth day of the first 
 month of the lunar year is the anniversary of 
 the death of Hussein, and here, as also through- 
 out Persia, the Shiites are showing they are 
 sorry for the murder. You must now prepare 
 for an awful sight." 
 
 The ghastly horse having gone by, we saw 
 a company of men with their vestments open 
 in front. Each man vigorously smote his breast 
 with palm or fist, so that the flesh was inflamed 
 where the blows fell, and all were crying, in 
 hollow tones of pain and supplication, "Hussein ! 
 Hussein ! " and likewise " Madad ! Madad ! " 
 an appeal to God for notice and help. 
 
 These men with bare breasts were succeeded 
 by a little group of Mohammedan merchants 
 (in European attire supplemented by the fez), 
 who walked slowly with a grave, abstracted air. 
 Then came another group of men groaning and 
 declaiming in the throes of self-inflicted torture. 
 Their vestments were open behind, and they 
 
44 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 swung iron chains in contact with their backs, 
 so that again I saw large areas of flesh lividly 
 crimson, and this time notched across with lines 
 of deeper hue. Composure was once more 
 seen in contrast with agony, for now another 
 group of well-groomed Mohammedans advanced 
 leisurely with faces free from emotion. 
 
 Finally came a hateful spectacle that haunts 
 my memory. Brazier- bearers went in front to 
 illumine the horror. While yet our eyes were 
 innocent of the sight, we knew some dreadful 
 thing had come to the view of near spectators, 
 for they were stretching forward with faces rigid 
 and pitiful. The next minute I had seen and 
 turned away, sick and shuddering. 
 
 Some dozen bare-headed men and youths 
 robed in white, and roped together in rows for 
 mutual support, were striking their foreheads 
 sideways with the edges of long, glittering 
 knives. The result was blood blood in copious 
 streams. It deluged their faces, it ran glistening 
 down their necks, it splashed their clothes. As 
 they struck, they uttered hideous, appalling 
 groans. Beside them walked priests, inciting to 
 a greater zeal in this horrid rite. Those red, wet 
 faces of misery can never be forgotten. 
 
 Of the nearest sufferers we saw the gory 
 backs ; for their heads involuntarily shrank back, 
 causing much blood to course through the hair. 
 The last in the row was but a boy, whose hand 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 45 
 
 was held by a man his father, my companion 
 assumed who was goading the poor little fellow 
 to a freer use of the knife. 
 
 Such was the public ceremony, to be followed 
 in private I was informed by the slow torturing 
 and killing of a lamb, thus mishandled in the 
 character of Yazid. 
 
 And so it happened that my last night in 
 Cairo left me with haunting memories. 
 
 Going next morning by rail to Port Said, I 
 saw the Suez Canal. It startles the eye. In a 
 grey landscape of desolate sand, it is straight, 
 narrow, and conspicuous, like a neatly ruled 
 streak of blue paint. Railway and canal running 
 in a close parallel for many miles, you have a 
 good view of mud-dredgers and bright- coloured 
 buoys modern and matter-of-fact in that 
 ancient desert. When, with head out of window, 
 I looked back, the waterway soon ran from 
 sight behind hillocks, but, just beyond, a great 
 liner was bearing down upon us with copious 
 arising clouds of smoke a ship gone demented 
 and cruising inland. 
 
 I regret to record that my arrival at Port Said 
 railway station was the humble cause of two 
 human bosoms being wrung with emotion. It 
 chanced that, as the train neared its destination, 
 I was busy with a little problem in mental 
 arithmetic. This concerned certain distances 
 in Palestine, divisible by a given number of 
 
46 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 available days, and with the speed of two in- 
 experienced horsemen as an unknown factor 
 lending itself to hypothetical treatment. 
 
 The engine-driver having, so to speak, finished 
 his work first, I, guided merely by an intelligent 
 instinct, alighted from the train with my belong- 
 ings, which I deposited on the platform at my 
 feet a course of action involving no loss of grip 
 on the problem which, because it remained 
 unsolved, continued to engross my mind. 
 
 That the platform was a scene of some anima- 
 tion I was dimly aware ; also was there a 
 dormant realization that an enthusiastic Bedouin 
 stood by my side, and, with eager reiteration, 
 was proposing to carry my luggage to any 
 desired destination. 
 
 The mechanical refusal of this service took the 
 form, not at first of speech, but of a repeated 
 negative jerking of the hand, much as the 
 absorbed student, without withdrawing attention 
 from his book, will war against the persistence 
 of a fly. And just as a failure to rout the insect 
 oft-times generates an irritation which the undis- 
 tracted intellect would not sanction, so, quickened 
 into lawless anger by the Arab's tireless impor- 
 tunities, I told him to run away and not be such 
 a nuisance an involuntary observation which, I 
 ask the reader to believe, lacked the authority of 
 my better self. 
 
 Nay, I scarce knew I had spoken those words 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 
 
 47 
 
 until I heard them repeated by him to whom 
 they were addressed a man now wholly beside 
 himself, and dancing about the platform in an 
 extremity of wounded sensitiveness. 
 
 If I had shot him with a poisoned arrow he 
 could hardly have zigzagged around in more 
 piteous fashion. Pointing me out with a 
 trembling forefinger, he shrieked into unheeding 
 
 RODA ISLAND, ON THE NILE 
 
 ears on account of the insult, sometimes in 
 Arabic and sometimes in English : 
 
 " He tell me run away ! He tell me run 
 away ! " 
 
 Full of contrition, and with a mind now 
 wholly estranged from my little geographical 
 calculation, I watched that distraught figure 
 until, still searching in vain for sympathy, he 
 was lost in the throng. 
 
48 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Meanwhile the spirit of mischief had been 
 laying plans to make me the unintentional cause 
 of more human tribulation. Suddenly I became 
 aware that a lithe Arab stripling of perhaps four- 
 teen had bravely shouldered my largest piece of 
 luggage, and was turning to beckon me as he 
 staggered with his burden towards the platform 
 exit. Grabbing up my other possessions, I 
 promptly made after the self-appointed porter, 
 and, laying a restraining hand on his arm, 
 commanded him to desist from his unauthorized 
 enterprise. 
 
 Reluctant to be baulked of the expected fee, 
 the youth entered into some feverish arguments, 
 which he abruptly terminated to take to his 
 heels a sudden departure of which the occa- 
 sion was revealed to me when, on turning, I 
 beheld the runaway being skilfully stalked by 
 two imposing representatives of the Egyptian 
 gendarmerie. 
 
 A moment later the captured boy was utter- 
 ing lamentable blubbering and shrill yells of 
 pain as his little brown head was being cuffed 
 by one of those personages, who seemed bent 
 on assisting the government of Egypt by simul- 
 taneously discharging the offices of policeman, 
 judge, and executioner. 
 
 Hastening to the spot, I was thunderstruck 
 to learn the indictment : " Me see you stop him 
 try steal. Him bad boy, sar. I take him to 
 
A Mohammedan Horror 49 
 
 prison all right." Saying which the strong man 
 bent the screaming youngster this way and that, 
 as though ambitious to break his backbone. 
 
 In blunt speech I told the military jack-in- 
 office that the boy was no thief, and that 
 he himself was little removed from a noodle ; 
 and, in his great astonishment to find zeal so 
 poorly appreciated, the soldier stood regarding 
 me open-mouthed. His hands must momen- 
 tarily have relaxed in sympathy with his jaw, 
 for the boy wrenched himself free, and, dodging 
 a dazed and clumsy attempt at recapture, darted 
 away and disappeared. 
 
 That seemed a sufficiently satisfactory de- 
 velopment, so, leaving the official chewing his 
 moustache, I hied me to a bystander, upon 
 whose cap I had noted the friendly name of 
 " Cook." In guilty silence I submitted to that 
 individual's mild reproaches for that I had not, 
 on the train's arrival, placed myself in his care. 
 
 Having spare time at Port Said, I walked 
 some little way along the Suez Canal, noting 
 the black scum left upon the water by a moored 
 fleet of colliers, and gathering shells upon the 
 artificial shore. I saw another and a smaller 
 canal, partly overhung with trees, and holding 
 a fluid precious in the eyes of the city's popu- 
 lation. There is a seductive and grateful sug- 
 gestion in the very description of this second 
 stream of man's devising. The " Sweet Water 
 4 
 
50 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Canal" conveys from Ismailia an ample supply 
 of one of life's prime necessaries. Near the 
 waterworks there is a gateway, through which I 
 looked out over an uninterrupted view of delta 
 a vast watery plain where nothing stirred but a 
 few solitary sea-fowl. 
 
 Night was falling when, on board a Khedieval 
 steamer, I left Egypt and began my voyage 
 along the eastern shores of the Mediterranean. 
 
OUR CAMP 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Arrival in Palestine 
 
 Fellow voyagers A first sight of the Holy Land Jaffa from the 
 sea Going ashore at Haifa Meeting my brother His presence 
 explained : an artist sent out by the Religious Tract Society 
 Impressions of the town Our camp on the shore Dining 
 under canvas George the waiter Solomon the dragoman 
 Securing our passports A surprise in the dark Guarded at 
 night by armed sentinels Sleeping under mosquito curtains 
 Beetles and a spider Viewing a unique collection of ancient 
 glass vessels. 
 
 TOURNEYING from Marseilles to Alexandria 
 ** on a French liner, I had enjoyed the com- 
 panionship of men and women born under 
 various flags and skies ; but the Egyptian packet 
 provided me with an even richer cosmopolitan 
 experience. 
 
 On the Messageries vessel, French and Eng- 
 
 5i 
 
52 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 lish had been associated with a German watch- 
 maker from New York and a Prussian dame 
 with a Swiss canary, while my cabin companion 
 was a Frenchman with an Italian name who 
 lived in Egypt, was born in Bombay, and had 
 spent some years in England out of which 
 jumble of terrestrial experiences, by the by, 
 there had emerged a character of great kind- 
 ness and a manner so polite that he begged me 
 not to cease smoking even when (for he was 
 given to great uneasiness at sea) he lay sick in 
 his bunk. 
 
 On the Khedieval boat I sat at meat with 
 a Hungarian on my right, a Turk on my left, 
 a Syrian family opposite, and with priests of 
 Spain, Italy, and Armenia sprinkled along the 
 saloon. Yet, even had we all been able to 
 talk Esperanto, the conversation would scarce, 
 I think, have reached the high level of varied 
 interest of which the composition of the company 
 might seem to give promise. 
 
 At our first meeting I looked around at 
 countenances demure, preoccupied, and full of 
 vague misgiving ; and when, later, the vessel 
 began some mild gambols in the open sea, 
 empty chairs at meals far outnumbered those 
 in occupation. Indeed if the reader will not 
 think the reflection pitched in too high a 
 patriotic key foreigners are, as a class, poor 
 sailors. Indeed, had I not, on the voyage to 
 
Arrival in Palestine 53 
 
 Egypt, and during an acquaintance with fiddle- 
 strings and a hurricane, found our assembly of 
 sixty diners, mostly French, dwindle to a group 
 of nine, all English ? 
 
 A calmness had come over the sea when, 
 in the distance on our right, I first beheld the 
 Holy Land. It was a narrow line of soft 
 greens and purples, with here and there a hint 
 of golden sand ; and we were voyaging on blue 
 water in warm sunshine. It was peaceful. It 
 was beautiful. I was sitting on deck upon a 
 coil of rope, and no one was near me. I looked 
 and looked again at Palestine, so delicately de- 
 fined in tender hues. 
 
 A human voice rang out from the bridge, 
 with instructions for the engine-room, while 
 still I gazed at the wondrous little land that 
 links earth with heaven. And 1 would not 
 have had it otherwise. Thus to be reminded 
 of the modern world was not incongruous with 
 my reverie. Nay, it emphasized my joy to be 
 where I was I who belonged to the England 
 of to-day, with its halfpenny newspapers and 
 motor omnibuses. And wherefor should the 
 hearty voice of an honest sailorman seem a 
 jarring note in my vision of Palestine ? Mystery 
 and ceremonial have crept into religions ; but 
 simplicity is a property of the truth on which 
 religions rest. The Truth that best of all 
 words in the dictionary. 
 
54 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 The sea was once more in commotion when 
 we anchored off Jaffa. To see a Palestine town, 
 if from afar, carried me one stage further in a 
 thrilling experience. But indeed that remote, 
 indefinite line of houses appealed rather to the 
 mental than the physical sight. Nearly every- 
 thing was left to the imagination. The eye could 
 do little more than note the row-boats that came 
 out for passengers (of whom I was not one) 
 intending to land at Jaffa. At first but black 
 specks amid a snowy belt of inshore breakers, 
 they grew to be bulky craft high at bow and 
 stern, like sea-going gondolas. The rowers, 
 habited in scarlet, plied their long oars with 
 powerful precipitancy, in an obvious competition 
 for early places alongside the anchored steamer. 
 We gave them some of our worst cases of sea- 
 sickness poor limp mortals whose transfer was 
 effected by strong arms much luggage being 
 also lowered into the heaving boats. 
 
 Anon we resumed our northward voyage 
 along the Palestine coast, until, at the approach 
 of dusk, and with fine rain falling, we anchored 
 off Haifa. Now it was my turn to be a 
 passenger in one of the sturdy row-boats that 
 put off from the shore. But as at last I came 
 to close quarters with a Palestine town, it failed to 
 engross my attention. I was searching eagerly 
 for a familiar sight in that unfamiliar scene. 
 My brother Harold was to meet me at Haifa. 
 
Arrival in Palestine 55 
 
 He had been commissioned by the Religious 
 Tract Society to travel through the Holy Land, 
 that he might make studies of its scenery, 
 peoples, and sacred sites, and so be enabled to 
 illustrate Bible scenes with fidelity. Quitting 
 England ten days in advance of me, he had 
 arranged that, after visiting Constantinople, he 
 would land at Beyrout and go by train to 
 Damascus ; thus leaving the main part of his 
 Palestine explorations, for which railways were 
 not available, to be undertaken on horseback 
 in my company. 
 
 There on the jetty at Haifa he was waiting ; 
 and it gave a zest to our meeting that he and I, 
 for so many days, had heard but little of our 
 mother tongue. Soon we were walking briskly 
 along a narrow walled-in thoroughfare, rugged 
 under foot and full of shadows. Haifa had a 
 grimly primitive look. The influence of recent 
 centuries was missing. One could see, even in 
 the twilight, that its inhabitants still lived in the 
 Middle Ages. 
 
 But a surprise of more personal interest was 
 what my brother had in store for me. 
 
 " Our camp ! " he exclaimed, as, emerging 
 from that sepia town, we arrived beside the sea. 
 
 On the sloping shore a considerable encamp- 
 ment lay before us in dim silhouette, with lights 
 showing in the large tents, and a company of 
 silent men partly revealed in the glow of a 
 
$6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 charcoal fire. And the next minute I stood 
 astonished in an apartment curtained with 
 Oriental splendour. It was, my brother said, 
 our dining-tent. 
 
 Two weeks before, I had handed across the 
 counter of Messrs. Cook's office at Ludgate 
 Circus, a cheque for 118. That I was paying 
 for my journey to, through, and from Palestine, 
 and in a sum that covered all costs of food 
 and travelling, I knew. But as to the form 
 our camp life would take I had no clue to 
 assist conjecture. What I had expected I 
 hardly know. The word tent is apt to suggest 
 personal discomfort, with not much room for 
 your feet ; while, in contemplating a journey 
 through a semi-civilized land, the traveller 
 naturally supposes that, as the saying goes, he 
 will have to rough it. 
 
 The glasses and silver gleamed brightly on the 
 little table which, illumined by candles in hand- 
 some candlesticks, was laid for two. My brother 
 told me that dinner was ready, our kitchen 
 arrangements having, it would seem, been timed 
 in accurate relation to the arrival of my steamer. 
 So we sat down then and there. And fish 
 succeeded soup, with poultry, joint, sweets, and 
 dessert following in their rotation. I am not 
 a competent critic of cuisine ; but one knows, 
 at least, whether the dishes that come to table 
 are acceptable. Those were. But the excellence 
 
Arrival in Palestine 
 
 57 
 
 of that meal was but one of several matters 
 that surprised us. 
 
 There was the waiter, for instance. Never 
 was I served at table by a man who looked more 
 like some character out of a pantomime. Balloon- 
 like knickerbockers were the outstanding feature 
 of his toilet ; so that, as he was unlikely to be a 
 Dutchman, we set him down for a Turk. 
 
 A waiter who put so much heart into his work 
 was new to me. The way he came and went 
 was the perfection of silent celerity ; while his 
 anxious expression, if we helped ourselves 
 sparingly from any dish, was in key with the 
 honest joy that overspread his countenance when 
 we took a second helping. 
 
 Although his vocabulary and ours, so far as 
 we could discover, contained not one word in 
 common, we managed an interchange of thought 
 on all essential matters, the waiter's frank and 
 
 OUR CAMP ON THE MOVE 
 
58 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 mobile face proving a ready index to an alert 
 and kindly mind. It remains but to add that, 
 recognizing the difficulty of ascertaining the 
 actual name of our servant, my brother re- 
 christened him George. 
 
 Meanwhile we were gazing about us with 
 growing interest in our canvas quarters. The 
 word tent I withdraw as inadequate. Our lines 
 were cast in a pleasant pavilion. Circular, of 
 not less than twelve feet in diameter, the apart- 
 ment had a perpendicular wall (if that be not too 
 solid a term to use) about six feet high, the roof 
 tapering to an apex supported by a central pole. 
 But it was the aspect of our dining-room, rather 
 than its size or shape, that excited our remark. 
 For the canvas was enriched with great wealth 
 of crimson decoration, lines of symmetry being 
 varied, at different altitudes, by a belt of detached 
 and various forms, which we assumed to be 
 Arabic characters. The effect was at once cosy, 
 quaint, and splendid. 
 
 Nor was George our only visitor. There 
 came to us, as we lingered over oranges and 
 almonds, a strange figure to whom I was vaguely 
 aware of having already been introduced. But 
 in the excitement of meeting my brother on 
 Haifa jetty I had omitted to pay much attention 
 to the unassuming individual whom I found in 
 his company. 
 
 Standing impassive, the new-comer spoke to us 
 
Arrival in Palestine 59 
 
 in English, quietly and with infinite composure ; 
 and as I looked and listened I found myself 
 hesitating between awe and amusement. The 
 lower part of him riding breeches, leather 
 gaiters, and heavy boots hinted at a European 
 stableman ; while the upper part Eastern head- 
 dress and drapery suggested an old woman 
 whose brown face was encircled by a shawl. 
 For a figure divided by the waist-line into two 
 portions so foreign to one another, a mermaid is 
 perhaps the nearest analogy. It confused the 
 senses to find dignity in so close association with 
 the grotesque. 
 
 My brother rather scandalized me by address- 
 ing him as Solomon ; though, as I presently 
 learnt, Solomon was actually the name of our 
 dragoman. For such proved to be the character 
 in which this composite personality had been 
 specially chosen to serve us. Nor was it long 
 before he gave a first proof of zeal for our 
 interests. 
 
 Each of us had brought from London a pass- 
 port giving British sanction to our Eastern 
 travels. But it seemed that, if my brother and I 
 desired to avoid a collision with the Turkish 
 authorities, we must also be armed with local 
 passports. And, since we had finished dinner, 
 Solomon advised that we lose no time in furnish- 
 ing ourselves with those legal instruments. 
 
 Accordingly we set forth in his company to 
 
60 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 retraverse some of the narrow alleys of Haifa, a 
 town now plunged in dismal darkness. Coming 
 soon to a building which, as revealed by its 
 meagre lamplight, suggested a village post office, 
 Solomon cautiously opened the door and went in, 
 after bidding us wait outside. Nor was it long 
 before he came out again, and, mysteriously 
 whispering that all was well, conducted us back 
 to our camp. There at his hands I received my 
 local passport, which, to one so ignorant of 
 Arabic as myself, looked something between a 
 death warrant and a laundry bill. 
 
 A little later my brother and I adjourned to 
 our sleeping-pavilion, which in size and decora- 
 tion proved a duplicate of the dining-tent. It 
 was illumined by candles and furnished with two 
 dressing-tables, our luggage, some camp stools, 
 and two beds. Rugs were placed here and there 
 upon what I had almost called the floor ; though 
 that is no name for sea-shore shingle covered 
 with a network of low-growing flowers cer- 
 tainly the daintiest carpet I ever found under a 
 roof. 
 
 But there was one feature of the apartment on 
 which we looked at first with little favour, 
 namely, the gauzy canopies of white muslin that 
 hung over our beds a feminine embellishment 
 which seemed gratuitously at variance with the 
 hardy spirit proper to travellers. Then suddenly 
 the explanation occurred to my brother 
 
Arrival in Palestine 61 
 
 mosquito curtains ! True, we saw no mosquitoes, 
 but perhaps there were some about, and no 
 doubt it was best to be prepared. 
 
 In order to be up betimes in the morning, it 
 would be well, my brother pointed out, if we 
 retired early to rest ; and accordingly he set 
 about the preliminaries of going to bed. For 
 my part, I could not resist the temptation to 
 step first out into the open ; for I heard quiet 
 waves caressing the pebbles not many yards 
 away, and I fain would fill my lungs with the 
 refreshing night air. 
 
 It was very dark outside. The glow of the 
 charcoal fire was gone, and our encampment 
 was given over to silence and broken snoring. 
 Gingerly I walked down towards the water ; and 
 the pale starlight, gradually gaining in value for 
 my eyes, revealed the dim difference between 
 shore and sea and sky. And it chanced that my 
 attention was arrested by a stout post or pillar 
 which I detected, conspicuous against the grey 
 background, a yard or so away ; whereupon, 
 following the prompting of an idle curiosity, 
 I went closer and stretched forth a hand to 
 examine what I took to be the weather-worn 
 stump of a beacon. 
 
 Judge then how my nerves jumped at the 
 discovery that this black shape, standing un- 
 cannily still, was that of a man and no ordinary 
 man. For I saw in silhouette a great shaggy 
 
62 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 turbaned head, and the next moment I had 
 discerned a figure raggedly clad in Eastern 
 breeches with bandaged legs, the sinister form 
 of a pistol butt protruding above the hip. His 
 face was indistinguishable, but I knew by the 
 poise of the head that two unseen eyes were 
 fixed on me. 
 
 " I beg your pardon I didn't see you at first," 
 I lamely gasped. The man's arms gave an up- 
 ward jerk, and the barrel of a rifle was revealed, 
 sloping against his shoulder. He emitted some 
 hollow nasal sounds that were unlike human 
 speech and highly disconcerting. 
 
 The soft music of the waves had lost their 
 charm for me. Restraining myself by an effort 
 from footsteps of flight, I got back to the tent, 
 carrying in my mind the image of as truculent 
 a ruffian as ever figured in tales of Spanish 
 brigandage. 
 
 " Why," exclaimed my brother, when I re- 
 counted my experience, "that must have been 
 one of our guard. I hope you didn't frighten 
 him ! I forgot to tell you Solomon says we 
 shall often have soldiers to protect our camp 
 at night. Otherwise, it seems, we might be 
 molested or robbed." 
 
 Strange how personal interests will colour our 
 impressions of other people. My miscreant of 
 a minute ago had already become a picturesque 
 foreigner. Nay, a certain rugged ferocity in his 
 
Arrival in Palestine 63 
 
 aspect now assumed the character of a virtue, 
 since it strengthened one's sense of his prowess 
 as a champion. 
 
 Meanwhile my brother, to judge by his indig- 
 nant exclamation, had discovered a more serious 
 menace to our peace. He had caught a spider 
 in his bed, a spider large and alert, with hairy 
 legs. 
 
 " It's all very well," said my brother, " but I 
 don't like this sort of thing." And indeed here 
 was a cloud across our vista of life under idyllic 
 conditions. 
 
 He carefully stripped his bed, searching every- 
 where for any further intruders an example I 
 was quick to follow. His hunt happily proved 
 unavailing, but I found two green beetles under 
 my pillow. 
 
 In remaking our beds we were careful to tuck 
 in the coverlets, instead of again leaving them 
 hanging to the ground as ladders for venturesome 
 insects. And now it was not long before, having 
 adjusted our mosquito curtains around us, we 
 blew out the candles and fell fast asleep. 
 
 When next I saw our camp, the sun was 
 shining and a babel of merry talk arose from the 
 strangely clad men bustling to and fro among 
 the tents. 
 
 After breakfast we set forth with Solomon to 
 pay a morning call. It seemed that in Haifa 
 there dwelt a learned antiquary whose collection 
 
64 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 of ancient glass ware my brother wished to 
 see. We saw it; and I am left with the memory 
 of many beautiful vessels and of a still more 
 beautiful courtesy. 
 
 It is a delightful experience to call at a house 
 as a stranger and be received as a friend ; and 
 one's delight is the greater when this happens in 
 a foreign town, especially in a town so foreign 
 as Haifa. To show us his treasures where they 
 stood in their cabinets was not enough for the 
 antiquary. He took them all out, and that 
 the English artist might see each shape to full 
 advantage he placed them with loving hands on 
 a long trestle table. 
 
 Indeed, that kind old gentleman spared us so 
 much of his time that, when at last we took our 
 leave, Solomon looked anxiously at his watch, 
 and then set forth briskly towards the centre of 
 the town. There we found our horses. 
 
Harold Copping 
 
 A Jewish Beggar. 
 
. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 First Days on Horseback 
 
 Four horses and a muleteer Can a middle-aged man learn to 
 ride? Why some people never go to Palestine False im- 
 pressions accounted for A digression with a moral My 
 lessons at a riding-school Drastic tuition What it feels like 
 to trot Another method of learning Our departure from 
 Haifa The serene sea-coast My horse bolts How he was 
 stopped Solomon's reproaches and scepticism Caution ill 
 rewarded : another frantic gallop Luncheon on the sandhills 
 Mahomet blames the bridle An undignified way out of the 
 difficulty. 
 
 /CHAMPING their 
 
 ^-^ bits and pawing 
 
 the ground, there 
 
 stood four tall horses 
 
 two chestnuts 
 
 and two greys ; 
 
 and holding 
 
 them in leash 
 
 was a swarthy 
 
 muleteer who, 
 
 by reason of his 
 
 black ringlets 
 
 and bloodshot 
 
 eyes, looked 
 
 unpleasantly like a pirate at first sight. 
 
 5 
 
66 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Let me frankly confess that I beheld those 
 quadrupeds without enthusiasm. I am not a 
 riding man. Nay, until a few weeks before, 
 when the project of visiting Palestine first en- 
 tered my mind, no experience was more remote 
 from my inclination or thoughts than eques- 
 trianism. 
 
 To say that is to lay stress on a difference 
 that marks your lifelong citizen from a person 
 who, if only in his youthful years, has enjoyed 
 the opportunities of a country existence. Rightly 
 or wrongly, I had always classed riding a horse 
 with playing the violin and swimming: if you 
 could do it you could do it, and if you couldn't 
 it was no good trying; it being a condition of 
 proficiency in all three arts, as I had been given 
 to understand, that you must begin young. 
 
 As it happened, the necessity to ride a horse 
 had also found my brother, not only unprepared, 
 but dubious of his capacity to qualify for the 
 emergency. Nay, had not the personal desire 
 to visit Palestine been supported by a sense of 
 professional obligation, we must, I think, have 
 accepted our ignorance of horsemanship as fatal 
 to our plans. And in crying off the expedition 
 on that ground we should have been in good 
 company. 
 
 How often have I heard it said : " To go to 
 the Holy Land was a great ambition of mine, 
 but, you see, I do not ride." And again : " If 
 
First Days on Horseback 67 
 
 only Palestine were opened up with railways ! " 
 (an aspiration, by the way, that will scarce be 
 echoed by those who have seen the country as 
 it is, still retaining the aspect of a hallowed 
 antiquity, and who may well feel jealous lest 
 steam traction should mitigate those primitive 
 glories). 
 
 In this connection, too, I think of the in- 
 complete explorations of many distinguished 
 persons. Besides visiting coast towns whither 
 the steamer conveys them, they journey to 
 Jerusalem by what was, until a recent date, 
 Palestine's only railway, and drive thence to 
 Jericho and the Dead Sea. And it is certain 
 of those travellers, let me parenthetically remark, 
 who report Palestine as arid, and its landscapes 
 as lacking in sylvan charm. They judge by 
 rocky heights and sandy undulations in the 
 vicinity of Jerusalem. They have not seen 
 lovely Nazareth in the sunshine. They have 
 not stood waist-deep in flowers, and gazed on 
 the Sea of Galilee. Not for them are the 
 emerald valleys or the plains on fire with scarlet 
 anemones. 
 
 And now, in the name of example and 
 encouragement, I propose to present my readers 
 with the equestrian experiences of my brother 
 and myself than whom, let me frankly confess, 
 it would be difficult to find any two persons less 
 " horsey." 
 
68 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 To begin at the beginning: three weeks 
 before starting for the East, I visited a London 
 riding-school, where it was explained that for 
 l 5s. 6d. I could have six lessons of one hour 
 each, which might be taken at any time on any 
 day. Incidentally I peered into the school, a 
 large barn-like structure, where one horse and 
 rider were going round and round in the 
 brown tan. 
 
 " How many lessons has he had ? " I asked, 
 for the man carried himself with enviable ease 
 and grace. 
 
 " Oh, he learnt years ago," replied the 
 riding-master. " He is just taking a little 
 exercise." 
 
 " I've never been on a horse in my life," said 
 1, anxious for comfort. 
 
 " No ? " said the riding-master. 
 
 "And I feel rather nervous about it" 
 
 " Oh, that'll be all right." 
 
 " I've never even been on a donkey." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 " In fact, the only thing I have ridden is a 
 bicycle." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I suppose riding a horse is like everything 
 else you learn gradually, moving on from one 
 stage to another ? 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 He simply would not talk. 
 
First Days on Horseback 69 
 
 " One gets thrown a few times at first, no 
 doubt ? " I suggested. 
 
 As he did not reply, I added : " But of 
 course it does not hurt on that soft stuff?" 
 
 " No," he said, in a tone that might have 
 meant anything. 
 
 So I left unconsoled, and with no clues. 
 
 When, a few days later, I arrived for my 
 first lesson, the office was empty. Again peering 
 through the window, I saw three mounted 
 gentlemen, and one mounted lady, trotting in 
 the tan. So many moving hoofs made the place 
 look dangerous, so I resolved to call again later, 
 when it might be my better fortune to find 
 those people gone. But already the riding- 
 master, standing in the arena, had perceived a 
 stranger in his office, and he came sternly with 
 long strides to learn what the intrusion might 
 mean. 
 
 On hearing that I wished to be his pupil, 
 he straightway busied himself with pen and ink, 
 and wrote me out a book of tickets. 
 
 " I'll drop in a little later," I said, " when 
 there's more room." 
 
 " Oh, no," he replied. " Come now " ; and 
 without another word he returned to the tan. 
 
 His was the quiet tone of command. I did 
 not know how to disobey. So I meekly hung 
 my coat on a peg, and, wondering if I ought also 
 to leave my hat, I followed my taciturn master. 
 
70 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 After all, the horses were moving only along 
 the outer limits of the arena. In the centre there 
 was plenty of room wherein a novice might 
 receive verbal instruction. For this first lesson 
 would of course be confined to theory on that 
 point my mind was unclouded by doubt. There 
 would be so much to explain how to sit in the 
 saddle, where to rest your weight, what to 
 do with your knees, and so on. Moreover, the 
 principles that underlay mounting, guiding, 
 stopping, and alighting would have to be care- 
 fully explained ; and I surmised that a con- 
 siderable portion of the first lesson would be 
 general guidance as to what is best to be done 
 when your horse rears, bucks, stumbles, or bolts. 
 I wondered whether this instruction would be 
 imparted with or without the aid of a wooden 
 dummy horse such as one sees in gymnasiums 
 and saddlers' shops. 
 
 As 1 entered the arena by one door, a 
 fourth horse was led out by another. Dear me, 
 thought I, there was going to be another rider ; 
 and so much the less room for me. 
 
 But the situation developed in a manner 
 contrary to these conjectures. 
 
 The riding-master went up to the led horse 
 which to my eye seemed a mettlesome beast and 
 beckoned me by raising the butt end of his whip. 
 
 " With the right hand you take the ends 
 of the reins so," he demonstrated. " Then you 
 
First Days on Horseback 71 
 
 insert the two middle fingers of the left hand 
 so. Then, having thrown the end over so you 
 take hold of the mane and, facing the tail, place 
 the left foot in the stirrup so. Now do it." 
 
 Slowly and blunderingly I repeated the move- 
 ments, thinking within myself that, after all, 
 it was of course best to demonstrate these 
 matters by means of the living reality. 
 
 When I had reached the final position, my 
 mentor said, " That's all right " ; whereupon I 
 withdrew my foot from the stirrup. 
 
 " Here ! What are you doing ? " said the 
 riding-master, and he added, somewhat severely ; 
 " Put it back." 
 
 Those words obliterated time. Once more, 
 after so many years of freedom and independence, 
 I was back at school a serf with a slate, 
 under an autocrat with a cane. Now, as then, 
 there was nothing for it but humble obedience. 
 Once more instinct told me it were vain to 
 try and teach the teacher how to teach. I 
 must do as I was bid. 
 
 So the left foot was thrust again into the 
 left stirrup. 
 
 " That's it," said the riding-master in a tone 
 of kindness. " Now get up." 
 
 "Now do whatl" I asked. 
 
 " Get up ! " he repeated, this time in the 
 hard voice of Fate and the schoolmaster. 
 " Swing up ; it's easy enough." 
 
72 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 " What ! " I gained time by gasping, " Clamber 
 up there ? " pointing to the beast's broad back. 
 
 " Yes, up you get ! Look sharp ! " 
 
 Argument, it was clear, would be useless. 
 With a wild upward effort, and with not a 
 pennyworth of thought for the poor horse, I 
 successfully ascended ; and next minute was 
 surveying my tyrant from the saddle. 
 
 The groom fidgeted with the right stirrup and 
 thrust my foot into it. Then the riding-master 
 said : " Now trot round." 
 
 The horse must have understood him. I had 
 many urgent questions to ask, but no oppor- 
 tunity for asking them. I was a cork on the 
 angry sea. I was the victim of an earthquake 
 of horseflesh. Oh, the jolting and the jarring ! 
 
 How to avoid falling off ? My thoughts were 
 busy with that problem when another arose to 
 fill my mind with panic how to steer? We 
 were heading straight for a post. The groom 
 had said something about moving the reins this 
 way or that. But which way for which direc- 
 tion ? I experimented, and we just managed 
 to miss the post ; but, oh, how nearly I lost my 
 balance in turning the corner ! 
 
 " Don't be beaten ! Stick to it ! " 
 
 Dimly I heard those encouraging words from 
 the riding-master. But he might have saved his 
 breath. For my life's sake I could be trusted 
 to do my best to remain in the saddle. Foi 
 
First Days on Horseback 73 
 
 the rest, I knew not how to dismount, or 
 necessary preliminary how to stop the horse. 
 
 I allow the other riders full credit for that 
 our zigzag course resulted in no collisions. But 
 presently we knocked down a post. I say " we," 
 though I did not want the horse to do it. 
 
 After a long spell of jolt, jolt, jolt, my quad- 
 ruped fell into a walking pace, which was far 
 more comfortable for me. 
 
 " I'll get you a stick," said the riding-master. 
 
 I wondered what he supposed I wanted a stick 
 for. But he brought one, and handed it up to 
 me, and bade me beat the horse with it, to 
 make the horse go faster. Never in my life, 
 however, did I feel less disposed to ill-treat a 
 dumb animal. 
 
 At last the time came when my master 
 showed me how to dismount a lesson I was 
 eager to learn ; and one of the longest half- 
 hours I ever remember then came to a close. 
 
 Thus fully have I revealed how far my con- 
 duct was removed, on this particular occasion, 
 from that of a reckless hero ; for I fain would 
 have the reader appraise his own spirit by the 
 poorer standard of my own, and so recognize his 
 fitness to overcome easily the fears and diffi- 
 culties which even I, as these pages will show, 
 succeeded to a sufficient degree in mastering. 
 
 A stiffness of body was my portion on the 
 day following that first visit to the riding- 
 
74 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 school a first visit that had carried me so far 
 along the path of knowledge that my worst 
 apprehensions were already seen to have been 
 misapprehensions ; and I found myself applaud- 
 ing the sagacity of a master who, instead of 
 allowing his pupil to linger shivering on the 
 brink of the unknown, had plunged him straight- 
 way into the refreshing and buoyant waters of 
 experience. 
 
 During the following week I went again to 
 that academy, and, mounting my horse on a 
 second attempt, I alternately trotted and walked 
 round the arena for the space of forty minutes, 
 knocking over two posts this time, but in no 
 other way suffering mishap or inconvenience ; 
 so that, when I left the building, it was with 
 a strengthened conviction that those who say 
 horsemanship is difficult to acquire, after the age 
 of forty, don't know what they are talking about. 
 
 To be astride a walking horse had become an 
 experience no more discomposing than to be 
 seated in a chair. Trotting, now the novelty 
 of the sensation had worn off, proved to be a 
 matter of rising and sinking in an orderly 
 routine quite consistent with one's balance and 
 safety. But it occurred to me that a horse is 
 capable of a third method of progression ; and, 
 having dismounted after my second lesson, I 
 spoke to the riding-master about it. 
 
 " What about galloping ? " I asked. " But, of 
 
First Days on Horseback 75 
 
 OUR HORSES 
 
 course, that could not be done in a small space 
 like this." 
 
 " You think not ? " laughed the riding-master ; 
 and straightway he swung up into the saddle 
 and began vigorously exhorting and smiting the 
 horse, which upreared and plunged and then 
 set off at a furious pace that caused the tan to 
 fly. I did not feel moved to follow my master's 
 
y6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 example, nor did he suggest my doing so. 
 Trotting, I mentally decided, was good enough 
 for me. 
 
 After enjoying, a few days later, a further 
 twenty minutes on horseback, I went no more 
 to the riding-school ; for other matters urgently 
 claimed my time, and I judged that, having 
 regard to the advantage conferred by those first 
 three lessons, 1 could afford to dispense with the 
 others. 
 
 Meanwhile my brother let me know, from 
 time to time, how he was faring in the saddle. 
 Living far from any riding-school, he had taken 
 his equestrian education into his own hands. 
 Having borrowed an old horse, and hired a 
 young man to hold it, he was getting his ex- 
 perience in a country lane not much frequented 
 by the public. And, as this narrative will show, 
 success attended even that method of learning 
 to ride a horse. 
 
 Here then at last I conclude a long digression 
 for which, in view of the practical purpose it is 
 intended to serve, I hope I may be pardoned. 
 Let us now revert to the moment when, in the 
 centre of the town of Haifa, my brother and I, 
 accompanied by our dragoman, found four horses 
 standing in charge of a disreputable-looking 
 muleteer. 
 
 After looking at his watch, Solomon allotted 
 one of the greys to each of us, and, having 
 
First Days on Horseback 77 
 
 mounted his own horse, said it was time to be 
 moving on. As to the method of our departure, 
 however, his idea proved at variance with our 
 intention. 
 
 The streets of Haifa looked scarce six feet 
 wide ; their irregular pavement of rocks and 
 stones promised a treacherous foothold ; and the 
 place was alive with picturesque pedestrians. 
 My brother and I declined to mount our beasts 
 amid such a complication of unfavourable con- 
 ditions. We led them through those congested 
 alleys, following in the wake of our mounted 
 companions ; and in a few minutes we had 
 passed beyond the region of human habitations 
 and were looking upon a perspective of flat 
 sea-shore, with the blue of the Mediterranean 
 margined, on our left, by golden shingle and 
 silvery stretches that merged, on our right, into 
 the pale tints of sand-hills half smothered with 
 vegetation. 
 
 The muleteer, obviously recognizing the duties 
 of groom as falling within his office, dismounted 
 on the open ground to see the two travellers 
 comfortably in the saddle. Resisting a first 
 impulse to insert my right foot in the stirrup a 
 proceeding which, if appointed routine be other- 
 wise persisted in, must result in the equestrian 
 bestriding his horse with his face to its tail I 
 mounted safely, as did my brother, and next 
 minute we were all proceeding on our way at a 
 
78 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 decorous walking pace. But the two chestnuts, 
 whether at the dictation of their riders I do not 
 know, walked more briskly than the two greys, 
 so that Solomon and the muleteer were presently 
 several hundred yards ahead of my brother and 
 myself. 
 
 Our winding course followed, not indeed a 
 road, but a well-defined track, which had its 
 justification in conducting us over a bridge of 
 rough timber spanning a little river. Sometimes 
 we trod the level turf, sometimes our route lay 
 across a wide expanse of firm sand. Nor were 
 foreign touches lacking to heighten the charm of 
 a scene so reminiscent of holidays at home. We 
 saw, a little way inland, a dainty grove of palm- 
 trees ; while our interest was further quickened 
 by the zoological experience destined to become 
 so familiar of meeting travellers mounted on 
 camels. 
 
 To be journeying so comfortably in the sun- 
 shine, along that sparkling coast, made my heart 
 feel light within me. But it was, I think, more 
 particularly the sea-air that played havoc with 
 my discretion. 
 
 I thought it would be fine to have a trot a 
 trot such as I had practised at the riding-school. 
 So, to rouse my horse out of his sluggish pace, I 
 gave him a gentle prod with my right heel. 
 
 The result was instantaneous and deplorable. 
 In a great rush of air, I was bumped, and 
 
First Days on Horseback 79 
 
 bumped, and again bumped. The brute was off 
 at a gallop that, of course, I knew. But how 
 I succeeded in retaining my seat in the saddle I 
 do not know. That I pulled at the reins, how- 
 ever, I am convinced. Nay, I afterwards had a 
 memory of pulling at the reins with a violence 
 so callous that, even in the throes of terror and 
 upheaval, I was dimly apprehensive of doing the 
 animal some physical injury. So far from that 
 being the case, however, he continued his frantic 
 career until the startled dragoman and muleteer, 
 with much shouted exhortation in Arabic, inter- 
 posed their horses plump in his path and thus 
 brought him, panting, to a standstill. 
 
 I had to accept Solomon's reproaches for the 
 part I admitted to have played in goading the 
 beast out of his walking gait. I must not 
 suppose, he warned me, that a horse fresh from 
 a two-days' rest could resist an invitation to 
 stretch his limbs. As for trotting pshaw ! this 
 was an animal of spirit. Nor would he credit 
 my testimony that I had taken proper measures 
 in the emergency, I may have thought I was 
 tugging at the reins, he said, but I could not 
 have done so really, or the horse would have 
 stopped. Indeed he was so positive about it 
 that I almost came to have doubts on the subject 
 myself. 
 
 Making my apologies for having unwittingly 
 disturbed the serenity of our progress, I returned 
 
80 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 to my pedestal of horseflesh and uncertainty, and 
 we resumed our journey towards the little town 
 that figured so prettily, with its foreground of 
 trees, at the end of the curve of coast. It was 
 Acre, the dragoman had told me, and our 
 destination for that day. 
 
 There could be no more passive rider than 1 
 had now become. Not so much as a finger did 
 I lay on my too responsive horse. But in less 
 than half an hour he was filled anew with the 
 spirit of haste. It was a near thing with me not 
 to be shocked from the saddle when, without 
 warning, my crazy quadruped leapt once more 
 into an unrequested gallop. There, then, was 
 poor John Gilpin, his feet forsaken by the 
 stirrups, clinging to the horse by what unau- 
 thorized means his memory lacks the data to 
 describe, and probably cutting as sorry a figure 
 as ever astonished the sea-fowl on the shores of 
 the Mediterranean. 
 
 They heard us coming those two experienced, 
 phlegmatic horsemen riding on ahead and, be- 
 stirring themselves in the same wise as before, 
 they again caused my headstrong steed to halt. 
 Then I learnt that, mutiny being contagious, 
 my brother's horse had started galloping in 
 imitation of mine. But my brother's horse 
 docile, acceptable creature had consented to 
 the restraint of the reins. 
 
 Fifty yards inland were sand-hills which, being 
 
First Days on Horseback 81 
 
 overgrown with bushes, offered pleasant shade 
 from the bright sunshine. An ideal place, I 
 suggested, for lunch. In simple Anglo-Saxon, 
 my knees were shaking. And when Solomon 
 and the muleteer had spread a cloth on the 
 mossy bank, and deposited thereon cold tongue 
 and chicken and buttered rolls, with oranges, 
 figs, and walnut kernels ; and when my brother 
 and I were squatting at that repast, and my 
 perturbation was yielding to the influence of 
 nourishment I ventilated the grievance that lay 
 heavy on my mind. 
 
 This time it was no use for any one to suggest 
 that I had not pulled at the reins for I had. 
 I begged to state an emphatic opinion that a 
 wrong sort of horse had been provided for me. 
 When my brother and I gave instructions to 
 Messrs. Cook in London, we distinctly mentioned 
 that, lacking experience in the saddle, we did 
 not look for speed or high-bred action in our 
 mounts ; we wanted two old stagers who would 
 just jog along peacefully and do as they were 
 told. For my part, as I informed the dragoman, 
 I should have been quite content with a vener- 
 able, rheumatic beast. At which he smiled. 
 At which with my present knowledge of the 
 ground to be covered in Palestine I also can 
 smile. 
 
 Solomon had been conferring privately with 
 the muleteer whose name, by the way, he 
 6 
 
82 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 mentioned as Mahomet and the upshot of 
 those deliberations was now communicated to 
 us. The horse was right enough, Mahomet 
 averred; though by an oversight for which he 
 took the blame and offered his apologies the 
 animal had been given a European bridle, instead 
 of the Arab pattern to which he was accustomed. 
 The fault should be remedied on the morrow, 
 and for the rest of that day's journey, if I 
 would pardon the indignity, my horse should be 
 tethered to his. 
 
 This proposal won my ready assent, and during 
 the remainder of our journey to Acre, two yards 
 of rope hung between my horse and that of the 
 muleteer. Thus I answered to the aspect of a 
 captured brigand, or rather I hope Mahomet 
 would excuse me for saying a brigand's captive. 
 However, let occasional wayfarers stare their 
 hardest, the arrangement suited me, giving that 
 sense of personal security without which the 
 choicest scenery is offered to unseeing eyes. 
 
ACRE 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Acre and Afterwards 
 
 Our transplanted camp Curiosity sternly repressed Historical 
 predecessors Acre at night Venerable battlements Peering 
 at murderers Remarkable rain We resume our journey An 
 accomplished muleteer Our guides lose the way Conflicting 
 advisers Injuring the oppressed A hurricane of hail My 
 lonely stroll Flowers and solitude A strange meeting 
 Unsavoury Shefa-Amr A message from the Governor. 
 
 \ CRE, as it lay ahead of us in the twilight, 
 ^"*" looked so interesting that, when we had 
 arrived within a stone's throw of its venerable 
 walls, I felt the thrill of one about to be 
 surprised by strange sights. But the sight I 
 next minute beheld, so far from being strange, 
 was only surprising because so familiar. 
 
 Solomon, at the head of our party, had 
 abruptly quitted the straight path to lead us 
 up a grassy mound ; and on the plateau we 
 found the identical encampment tents, men, 
 mules and charcoal fire we had left on the sea- 
 
 83 
 
84 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 shore at Haifa. Nay, on entering our sleeping- 
 apartment my brother and I found all our personal 
 belongings just where we had placed them ; and 
 already the cloth was laid, and the candles 
 burning, in our pleasant dining-pavilion. 
 
 Enough daylight remained to reveal the 
 summit of the mound as circular and spacious ; 
 and, while waiting for dinner to be served, I 
 strolled off to explore our new environment. 
 Nor was it long before, having come to the limit 
 of level ground, I confronted a group of men 
 and boys standing, full of passive curiosity, on 
 the dip of the land. But Solomon came quickly 
 after me, to utter confidential warnings anent 
 the wisdom of taking no notice of those people, 
 as to whose probity, it was clear, he entertained 
 grave misgivings. Having whispered to me in 
 English, he shouted at them in Arabic, and 
 shouted in a tone of such stern reproof that I 
 was curious to learn the purport of his words. 
 
 " I tell them," he explained, " that we not 
 stand any nonsense from them, and if they come 
 nearer to the tents by only one yard we send 
 them to prison." 
 
 It seemed rather a high-handed way of treat- 
 ing people who, though I must admit they 
 looked sullen, presumably had as much right 
 on that hill as we had. I should certainly, 
 had I been given any voice in the matter, have 
 favoured a more tolerant, not to say courteous, 
 
Acre and Afterwards 85 
 
 attitude towards the inhabitants of a country 
 where, after all, we were uninvited guests. But 
 I took it that Solomon knew best. 
 
 It seemed for my companion's talk became 
 historical on our way back to the tents that 
 we were by no means the first persons who 
 had encamped on that eminence, Richard Cceur 
 de Lion and Napoleon Bonaparte having both 
 been there before us. Our attitude towards 
 the inhabitants at any rate compared favourably 
 with theirs. Which reminds me, if the Bible 
 gives us only peaceful glimpses of the Acre of 
 antiquity, the later history of that "key to 
 Palestine" is an awful record of siege upon 
 siege, with human slaughter unthinkable. But 
 over its gloomy history there broods the glamour 
 of mediaeval romance. For, fed by the blood of 
 the Crusaders, chivalry blossomed at Acre. 
 
 Going forth on foot after dinner, we soon 
 came to a grim old entrance-gate set in a great 
 battlemented wall which, if time had bitten 
 deeply into its crumbling surface, was built of 
 a solid thickness that defied the centuries. 
 Pointing with his stick, Solomon showed us 
 hyssop growing on the top of those venerable 
 fortifications. He was also concerned that we 
 should notice a structural feature of the wall, 
 to wit, narrow apertures which, besides serving 
 as sheltered places of observation, gave oppor- 
 tunity for discharging bolts at any invader who 
 
86 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 sought to force the gate. But it was their 
 name, and not their purpose, to which he drew 
 our attention, claiming that one of such slits 
 in the masonry was the " eye of a needle " 
 intended to be associated, in hallowed language 
 of imagery, with the passage of a camel. 
 
 Solomon's memory, indeed, as later occasions 
 served to demonstrate, was richly stored with 
 Syrian folk-lore ; but since speculative erudition 
 lies outside the scope of this record, 1 should 
 not have quoted his testimony save for an 
 indirect significance that belonged to it. 
 
 As we stood there in the yellow lamplight, 
 surrounded by shadows and mystery, gowned 
 figures came and went with silent tread ; and, 
 on looking through the archway, I saw other 
 gowned figures just within the city, squatting 
 on the ground beneath a canopy of reeds and 
 sticks. Those people of to-day were linked by 
 tradition with the people who dwelt at Acre 
 eighteen hundred years ago, as in times more 
 remote. And Solomon's words served to deepen 
 a feeling that ithings as we saw them must, 
 in general aspect, reproduce the image of the 
 Acre of old. For one stone wall is like another, 
 and the principle of an unembellished arch 
 admits of no variety. As for the clothing of 
 that solemn, brown-skinned people, it was so 
 rich in archaic suggestion that the imagination 
 instinctively accepted it as a style inherited 
 
Acre and Afterwards 87 
 
 from early ages. Any alteration in that respect 
 seemed scarce more probable than that the blue 
 sky and sunshine of Palestine, and its night-time 
 firmament of stars, had changed since the days 
 when Jesus saw them. 
 
 Having entered at the gate, we soon became 
 aware of an element in the population that 
 had been lacking at Haifa. Turkish soldiers, 
 armed with long guns, stood here and there on 
 guard, and we saw others passing through the 
 streets in squads. For Acre, true to its history 
 and fortifications, remains a military city. 
 
 Our saunter introduced us to much that was 
 picturesque ; but one place we saw left a shadow 
 on our minds. Coming to a gate, we looked 
 between its iron bars at human creatures who 
 carried themselves with a subdued and dismal 
 air. In skinny, suppliant hands, they held out 
 specimens of ornamental woodwork for our 
 inspection. It was a prison, and they were 
 murderers Solomon said and travellers were 
 wont to purchase examples of their handicraft. 
 My brother and I, however, felt no desire for 
 mementoes of misery, the more so as our glance 
 at the articles failed to discern in them any 
 redeeming grace of colour or design. 
 
 Passing to pleasanter experiences, we saw men 
 by the wayside selling doves ; we went in and 
 out among winding bazaars which, if dirty 
 under foot, were full of Oriental charm ; and, 
 
88 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 peeping in at the Mosque of Jezzar, we beheld 
 a courtyard paved with choice mosaic, where a 
 fountain stood amid palms and peace. These 
 sights were all strange and precious to my 
 brother and myself, if wholly unremarkable to 
 Solomon the Syrian. And thus fate seemed 
 aiming at an emotional adjustment as between 
 him and ourselves when, a little later, some- 
 thing happened that he found amazing and we 
 considered commonplace enough. 
 
 It began to rain a state of things, it would 
 seem, to which Palestine is unaccustomed at that 
 time of year. What is more, it continued to 
 rain, so that Solomon, finding himself getting 
 wet, was all in a fidget until we set off for home. 
 For home, I say, though in truth that word 
 slipped unauthorized from my pen. But certainly 
 our tents earned the compliment that night, for 
 though the rain persisted in heavy volume, and 
 violent wind arose, our canvas was proof against 
 those attacks. 
 
 Of Acre we had fuller knowledge on the 
 following day, when we pushed our explorations 
 through ancient cellars and dungeons that 
 brought us into view of the dainty little harbour, 
 where small sailing craft were tossing at anchor 
 in the sprightly breeze. Hard by, heaps of 
 stones and mortar were associated with battered 
 remnants of walls it being manifest that the 
 inhabitants had not tidied up that part of their 
 
Acre and Afterwards 89 
 
 town since the last bombardment, which occurred 
 in 1840. 
 
 On espying travellers, certain youthful Syrians 
 came upon the scene, and, with great wealth 
 of gesture, pointed to iron missiles embedded 
 in the masonry, these missiles according to 
 Solomon's interpretation of the youngsters' talk 
 being shells fired from British men-of-war. 
 Those lads of Acre, who recognized us for 
 Englishmen, apparently wanted to know if one 
 might judge by an air of expectation in their 
 bearing what we were going to do about it ; and 
 in the circumstances I felt that a bishlik between 
 them was the least reparation I could offer. 
 
 When, at ten o'clock next morning, we 
 emerged for the last time through the gate 
 of Acre, it seemed that many days had gone 
 by since first we came to that city. Yet, if 
 I felt we had stayed there longer than we had, 
 I shared my brother's regret that we could 
 stay there no longer. We had been able only 
 to glance at scenes we fain would have lingered 
 over. But in advocating a judicious allotment 
 of our time, Solomon uttered counsel of which 
 we recognized the weight ; and, as had been 
 arranged at breakfast, there on the road was 
 Mahomet with the horses. Thus was 1 called 
 upon to resume the practice of an art towards 
 which my relations had become somewhat 
 complicated. 
 
90 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 On looking at my steed, I saw a curb of 
 new shape in his mouth. But also I thought 
 I saw the old madness in his eyes. So, letting 
 dignity go to the winds, I decided once more 
 to be led, if the muleteer would consent to 
 resume the office of custodian. For, as I com- 
 forted my self-esteem by reflecting, I had come 
 to Palestine to see the country, and not to 
 place my life at the mercy of an animal whose 
 sanity I doubted. 
 
 Mahomet offered no objection to my request, 
 and soon our horses were walking away from 
 Acre with us upon their backs. This time we 
 journeyed inland, over ground of a rising 
 gradient, and presently I saw, on turning my 
 head, the blue expanse of the Mediterranean 
 lying behind us, while, away to the right, 
 Mount Carmel loomed green and lofty. But 
 the scenery did not monopolize my attention. 
 I found myself regarding Mahomet with an 
 interest that ripened into admiration admiration 
 both of himself and his horse. The brave 
 beast, in addition to its human burden, was 
 carrying a pair of saddle-bags that were all 
 abulge with my brother's sketching paraphernalia, 
 our macintoshes, two cameras and tripods, the 
 lunch, and an assortment of feeding and cooking 
 utensils. 
 
 For Mahomet to bestride his quadruped in the 
 usual manner was out of the question. He had 
 
Acre and Afterwards 
 
 9i 
 
 to balance himself how best he could while 
 sitting with his legs stretched straight and his 
 heels in the region of the horse's mane. To 
 be situated so precariously on that heap of 
 swaying luggage would have tried the nerve and 
 patience of most persons, even without the 
 nuisance of having another horse on one's hands, 
 or rather heels ; but Mahomet comported him- 
 
 ONE OF THE CITY GATES, ACRE 
 
92 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 self with jaunty indifference, accompanied by 
 snatches of song. 
 
 Every now and then he would lean back to 
 flick my horse with the end of the tow rope ; 
 not because the beast had done anything to 
 deserve it, but merely, as I gathered, by way 
 of reminder that, whatever it might think of the 
 gentleman on its back, the person on ahead was 
 its master. 
 
 The even tenor of our progress was not 
 long maintained. Arriving on ground that was 
 soft and saturated, Solomon and Mahomet 
 realized that they had lost the way ; or rather 
 to judge by the tone in which they addressed 
 one another each realized that the other had 
 lost the way. Nor were they of one mind 
 as to the direction in which they were likely 
 to find it ; the dragoman indignantly proceeding 
 across some ploughed land, while the muleteer 
 continued doggedly to ford the morass. Each 
 soon varied his direction, and some rather com- 
 plicated evolutions occupied them for about 
 ten minutes, at the end of which time it began 
 to rain. A more favourable circumstance was 
 that Solomon descried, not very far away, some 
 picturesque figures with a donkey, to whom he 
 hastened in search of geographical guidance ; and 
 when he presently returned, with a face of 
 restored calm, we all set off by a route the 
 strangers had recommended. 
 
Acre and Afterwards 93 
 
 Nor did we suffer any further hindrance until, 
 on falling in with certain other picturesque 
 figures, this time accompanied by camels, the 
 muleteer, not to miss so favourable an oppor- 
 tunity for confirming the information already 
 received, asked them if we were going right 
 for Shefa-Amr. And no knowledge of Arabic 
 was necessary to gather that, in their opinion, 
 we were going hopelessly wrong. 
 
 Once more Solomon and Mahomet entered 
 upon a conference that had much in common 
 with a controversy, and whereof the upshot sur- 
 prised me. For, setting his face against both 
 routes indicated by our conflicting advisers, 
 Solomon led us off on an independent course 
 of his own devising. Its chief demerit, in my 
 eyes, was that it lay across an area on which 
 rows of barley seedlings were showing green and 
 conspicuous against the brown earth. But when 
 I called out to him that we were assuredly going 
 over somebody's cultivated land, he replied that 
 he knew we were, but it didn't matter; his 
 philosophy on the subject being, as I was after- 
 wards to learn, that the meek pastoral people 
 of Palestine were already so oppressed by the 
 Turk that such a little thing as trampling down 
 their crops did not count a view of the case, 
 as it seemed to me, that had no very sure 
 foundation in ethics. 
 
 A second, but by no means secondary, claim 
 
94 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 on my attention was made by the rain, which 
 was now descending in considerable volume. In- 
 deed, for a climate that had not had much 
 practice, so to speak, it was a very creditable 
 downpour. What with the wind, and the chilli- 
 ness caused by rain-drops trickling down one's 
 neck, we might have been in the Highlands of 
 Scotland. Both Solomon and Mahomet, by 
 some ingenious adaptation of their Eastern 
 toilet, had become cloaked figures ; and, in the 
 circumstances, my brother and I felt justified 
 in calling a halt, even in that barley-field, to 
 demand and don our macintoshes. 
 
 On presently coming in sight of a great 
 stretch of rising ground, our two guides were 
 agreed in believing that they knew where they 
 were ; and, fraternal relations being re-estab- 
 lished by this discovery, my brother and I an- 
 nounced that, after so much zigzagging about 
 in quest of a lost trail, we were feeling rather 
 hungry. However, pleading the need for shelter, 
 Solomon decided that we must not have our 
 lunch just yet ; and, ten minutes later, we felt 
 glad he had taken that view. 
 
 For the rain became tropical, and was accom- 
 panied by hail, which pelted us so unmercifully 
 at the propulsion of a head wind that our dis- 
 tressed horses declined to face it, and were 
 reduced to the curious expedient of walking 
 sideways a course in which they persisted 
 
Acre and Afterwards 95 
 
 until, on the downpour assuming hurricane 
 violence, they came to a dead stop. And there 
 they stood, quaking with bowed heads, during 
 the fury of that deluge. 
 
 The storm ended abruptly, and four satu- 
 rated travellers resumed their journey, coming 
 presently to a short length of ancient stone 
 wall the one feature of variety in a lonely 
 landscape. So there they halted for lunch. 
 
 Probably most persons, when travelling through 
 a strange country in a train, have felt how much 
 they would like to get out and walk. It all 
 looks so interesting that one wants to get 
 closer to be inside those scenes, instead of 
 merely passing them by. On horseback I had 
 been having much the same sense of oppor- 
 tunities denied. And so, finishing lunch before 
 the others, I decided to take a short stroll. To 
 be alone with Palestine for awhile, to feel its 
 herbage under the soles of my feet, to hold 
 some of its flowers in the palm of my hand 
 those were the experiences I was longing for. 
 
 An open stretch of treeless country lay on 
 our left, as also behind and ahead, along the 
 route we were traversing ; but immediately on 
 the right was rising ground that shut off the 
 view, and endowed what lay beyond with the 
 fascination of the unknown. I walked up that 
 slope. 
 
 Nor had I gone far before, as on looking back 
 
96 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 I discovered, the billowy contour of the hill 
 had placed my companions out of sight. And 
 in no direction was any man, or beast, or 
 habitation visible. I stood alone in the silence, 
 with only the sky and the green earth about 
 me ; and in those moments of perfect peace I 
 was indeed in the Holy Land. 
 
 Onward I went, very glad. The grass was 
 at that stage of advanced and rapid growth 
 when the unbroken blades are vivid green, and 
 the slender tall stalks are burdened with their 
 trembling trusses of seed. Amid the grass were 
 brilliant flowers anemones, marguerites, and 
 bugloss. As I walked, the thought of snakes 
 came to me, so that I trod cautiously, with my 
 eyes to the ground. And thus it happened 
 that the approach of a human being was un- 
 noted by me until, on chancing to raise my 
 head, I was startled to see him a strange figure 
 in dilapidated vestments, a man of dark visage, 
 who held in his right hand a great curved blade 
 of shining steel, and was bearing down on me 
 with long strides. 
 
 Being unprovided with so much as a walking- 
 stick, I recognized the pathetic disadvantage at 
 which I should stand were his behaviour to prove 
 as warlike as his looks. A few anxious seconds 
 later, and we had met. 
 
 Had I known the necessary Arabic words, 
 I should certainly have wished him good after- 
 
Acre and Afterwards 97 
 
 noon, little as that stern, impassive face invited 
 a friendly greeting. We met, I say ; but it was 
 scarcely a meeting. Neither of us stopped, or 
 paused, or smiled, or spoke. And we passed so 
 close to one another that his brown garments 
 almost touched me. When, a minute later, I 
 turned my head, his long legs had carried him 
 out of sight beyond a brow of the hill. 
 
 I wonder why that husbandman with his 
 sickle for, on reflection, I decided he could be 
 nothing else was moving with such expedition 
 on so straight a course, like a scout who was 
 following a trail. And I wonder how, behind 
 that mask of stolid indifference, he accounted 
 for finding a lonely Western foreigner loitering 
 about in that solitude. For my part, it was 
 as though I had met some stealthy, dumb being 
 from another planet. 
 
 On rejoining my companions, and relating the 
 experience, I had to submit to earnest upbraidings 
 from Solomon, who hinted at robbery and violence 
 as dangers to be feared from his countrymen, in 
 whom, it would seem, he had little confidence. 
 
 Our afternoon journey lay, for the most part, 
 across bare hills where, on sunny banks, corn- 
 flowers and iris bloomed in profusion. Evening 
 had come when, after a long spell of uphill 
 travelling, we entered upon a path rudely paved 
 with stones. Still ascending, we were soon in 
 a malodorous region of mud houses where the 
 7 
 
98 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 narrow roadway was slippery with filth, and our 
 ascent was watched by an inert, untidy people. 
 We were wending our way into a dirty and 
 dismal town that looked uncivilized and smelt 
 pestilential. 
 
 At the top of the hill, on a small area of open 
 ground, we found our encampment, surrounded 
 by a boisterous mob of slovenly juveniles, who 
 at once received attentions from Solomon. His 
 dignified remonstrances failed, however, to arrest 
 the chorus of ribald defiance, and it was in great 
 indignation and hot haste that he went off to 
 ventilate our grievance in official quarters. 
 
 Of those representations we perceived the 
 value when he presently showed us a card that 
 bore the words : " Saied Mohammad Salim, al- 
 Qunsy, Governor of Shefa-Amr." On turning 
 it, we read this reassuring message : 
 
 " Mr. Thos. Cook and Son I have sent you 
 two soldier for serving you. Respect our sincere 
 affection." 
 
 At once the populace ceased to trouble us ; 
 and we dined and slept that night in peace. 
 
OUR FIRST VIEW OF NAZARETH 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Nazareth 
 
 Luxury in barbarism Domestic life in a tent Loading mule 
 The Protestant school at Shefa-Amr Visiting the hill tombs 
 Travelling amid birds and flowers Wayside friends Looking 
 down at Nazareth Gentle-mannered girls and boys A city 
 of kindness and smiles The leper Mary's Well Primitive 
 carpenters' shops Distressing pretensions The Protestant 
 Orphanage A missionary of the minority. 
 
 l^TEXT morning found me in a state of glad- 
 * ^ ness and wonder, touched just lightly by 
 a guilty feeling. 
 
 I had come to Palestine the most interesting 
 country in the world and still did I feel the 
 thrill of a momentous experience. Nay, that 
 thrill had been quickened at sight of this little 
 town on the top of a rock-strewn hill. Yet, 
 with its rude dwellings, its uncouth and jeering 
 rabble, and its crooked byways of filth and loose 
 
 99 
 
ioo A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 stones, Shefa-Amr was appalling rather than 
 pleasing. Indeed, to my European eyes, it was, 
 in all externals, frankly barbarous. And from a 
 recognition of that very fact came the hint of 
 personal uneasiness that accompanied my grateful 
 exaltation. 
 
 This is what happened. I was awakened by 
 the voice of Solomon, saying he had brought 
 our warm water, and breakfast would soon be 
 ready ; whereupon, throwing aside my mosquito 
 canopy, I beheld his cheerful countenance, in a 
 setting of morning sunshine, at the entrance to 
 the tent. Standing on the wide stretch of 
 comfortable Turkish rug, we had use of ewers 
 and mirrors and brushes, and all other accus- 
 tomed amenities of the toilet, as set out in 
 orderly duplicate array on twin tables draped 
 with crimson. 
 
 And anon we had passed from one commodious 
 pavilion to another, and were seated at a repast, 
 spread on a snow-white tablecloth, in which 
 grilled kidneys, boiled eggs, and sardines were 
 associated with hot rolls, buttered toast, a choice 
 of preserves, a dish of delicious Jaffa oranges, 
 and coffee served in a silver urn. And a few 
 yards away, and all round about us, was 
 barbarism. 
 
 It did not seem fair. Who was I and, for 
 the matter of that, who was my brother that 
 we, mere uninvited visitors in the land of that 
 
Nazareth 101 
 
 backward people, should be singled out for the 
 enjoyment of all these selfish corporalities ? How 
 came it that we could not go a few hours without 
 creature comforts that these poor Moslems and 
 Druses had lacked for centuries ? Was it not 
 enough that we had lived all our days in the lap 
 of Western civilization, without bringing the 
 personal luxuries of that civilization into remote 
 places of the East ? And bringing them, be it 
 noted, in exaggerated profusion ; for I would 
 ask the reader to believe that, in mine own 
 home in England, I am wont to break my fast 
 under conditions of greater simplicity than are 
 represented by the appetizing alternatives enumer- 
 ated above. 
 
 And if some misgiving underlay my enjoyment 
 of the good things provided for us, the matter of 
 how they were provided was still a mystery to 
 me. Indeed, the supreme interest of being in 
 Palestine had left me incurious and unobservant 
 concerning minor matters. Yet it happened 
 that, ere we departed from Shefa-Amr, I was to 
 have some insight into the elaborate routine on 
 which our domestic affairs reposed. 
 
 On emerging from the tent, my brother, 
 entranced by the view of the valley, straightway 
 fetched paints and easel and got to work. Then 
 Solomon, on learning how much I should like to 
 visit the Protestant school, bade me wait while 
 he went first to learn if the children were there. 
 
io2 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 And while I was waiting, my attention was 
 engaged by the vigorous activities of four of our 
 servants. They were collapsing the tents, and 
 doubling up the areas of canvas into huge 
 bundles. Already one mule was, as it seemed, 
 in process of burial beneath the conglomeration 
 of bundles, boxes, trunks, and poles that were 
 being built about him. The uncomplaining 
 beast stood firm, as the basis of the structure 
 the guiding principle with the men manifestly 
 being that each hundredweight or so added on 
 one side must be promptly counterpoised by a 
 corresponding supplement on the other. Other- 
 wise the balance of the poor mule would be 
 endangered. To my inexperience it seemed 
 strange that his spine did not snap. 
 
 Solomon coming back, he and I went to- 
 gether up one of the winding alleys, slippery 
 with mire, until we came to a gate in a wall of 
 loose stones. This gave entrance to a little 
 enclosure which, if evidence of cultivation were 
 limited, was nevertheless a garden, and therefore 
 a welcome thing to see in grey, forbidding 
 Shefa-Amr. In the house an English lady 
 welcomed us, and soon was confessing how hard 
 a fight she had of it against superstition and 
 mental darkness. But the light of kindness in 
 her eyes spoke of hope in her heart, and I knew 
 I need not pity her. 
 
 Shefa-Amr she identified with Haphram of 
 
Nazareth 103 
 
 the Book of Joshua and Shafram of the time of 
 Christ ; and I was enjoined to see the rock tombs 
 on the hill- side, whither, it seemed, this gentle 
 lady often went to sit and meditate, and watch 
 pretty little birds of which, as she was fain 
 smilingly to admit, she did not know the genus. 
 Also she told me of the discovery, in one of the 
 tombs, of the glass image of a man, and of the 
 awe and terror with which local fanaticism had 
 beheld it. We went into the schoolroom, and I 
 retain the mental picture of fifty little children 
 sitting, solemn and subdued, and saying the 
 Lord's Prayer in Arabic. 
 
 Returning to our camping-ground, I found 
 the long line of our laden quadrupeds five 
 mules and two sturdy donkeys about to depart 
 down the hill, in the custody of two muleteers 
 on foot (wild-looking men in ragged brown 
 raiment), and with Simon the cook on horse- 
 back, and George the waiter squatting atop 
 boxes and baggage on one of the beasts of 
 burden. 
 
 Our own four horses were tethered on the 
 camping - ground, and presently when my 
 brother's sketch was done we released and 
 mounted them, and set off in the wake of our 
 vanished caravan, Mahomet (his bulging saddle- 
 bags containing sketching materials, cameras, 
 and lunch) leading the way. Past hedges of 
 cactus and walls of heaped stones, we followed 
 
104 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 the winding descent to the bottom of the valley, 
 when my brother, Solomon, and I handed over 
 our horses to the muleteer, that he might mind 
 them while we were gone to see the tombs. 
 
 In that tangle of weeds it were easy enough 
 to miss the lowly mouths of those ancient 
 sepulchres. Stooping, we peered into roomy 
 chambers hollowed out of the solid rock, 
 (chambers with divisions and recesses), while 
 within and without we saw worn and moss- 
 grown carvings of crosses, lions, and grape-vines 
 growing in pots. 
 
 Once more in the saddle, we soon were out of 
 sight of Shefa-Amr, and well started on our 
 journey. The recent heavy rains had left the 
 low lands swampy, and for a mile or so our 
 sure-footed animals made their slow way 
 through water and yielding mud. Gaining 
 higher ground, we found our path encumbered 
 by stones, with many a dainty flower growing 
 by the wayside. 
 
 It was a glorious landscape. On our right 
 the far sweep of Mount Carmel loomed purple 
 and imposing. On our left, in receding depths 
 of blue, were the hills of Galilee, lacking only 
 heather in their resemblance to the Scotch 
 Highlands. Hawks floated stationary against 
 the sky, dapper little wrens and wagtails took 
 wing at our approach, an occasional eagle, strong 
 and solitary, crossed our path, and I saw some 
 
Nazareth 105 
 
 dark-coloured butterflies. But the flowers were 
 my chief delight. 
 
 Out of that rich brown earth, indeed, sprang 
 a luxuriant vegetation spangled with various 
 blooms. Single anemones were the frequent 
 spots of vivid scarlet. Clusters of white and 
 mauve cyclamen grew among the lichen-splashed 
 rocks. Cornflowers were the dark-blue patches, 
 dwarf iris the light. And the banks were pink 
 and pretty with cistus, which some persons 
 identify with the Rose of Sharon, though per- 
 haps the narcissus has a stronger claim to the 
 distinction. 
 
 Reaching undulations, we passed many cul- 
 tivated areas, and went through a little copse, 
 fragrant of earth and leaves, that might have 
 been in Surrey. Then we came to a large pond, 
 bordered by a stretch of grass that offered good 
 grazing for our horses. So here we stopped 
 for lunch ; and, after the meal, I went on tiptoe 
 to the water's edge, curious to learn what 
 manner of birds were uttering the strange 
 medley of cries and pipings. Frogs proved to 
 be the explanation. 
 
 It took but a few minutes to gather a glowing 
 bouquet such as, in England, must have come 
 from a hot-house. Here and there on the grass 
 I noticed brown patches that proved, on a near 
 scrutiny, thousands of little caterpillars wriggling 
 on glistening webs. Standing motionless, I saw 
 
io6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 small rodents at their excavations. Beyond the 
 pond, seven browsing camels moved sluggishly, 
 all legs and neck. Their custodian, an Arab 
 lad in venerable rags of various hues, stood fifty 
 yards away, idly slashing the reeds with his 
 stick. Two middle-aged Arabs approached 
 along the path, driving several lame brown 
 horses ; and when they espied Mahomet resting 
 on the bank, they went and squatted beside 
 him. One unwrapped his hookah, charged it 
 with water from the pond, and fell a- smoking, 
 the three men hobnobbing in Arabic like old 
 friends. 
 
 On resuming our journey, we had much dif- 
 ficult ground to cover. Sometimes our horses 
 would be staggering up and down the rocky bed 
 of a dry water-course. Also we had to cross 
 slopes that were strewn liberally with boulders. 
 And so in time we came to a hill where allot- 
 ment gardens (as they seemed) were marked off 
 by trim lines of cactus. 
 
 On a sudden, when we had reached the top, 
 my brother and I cried out in joyful amazement 
 at the scene which lay before us. 
 
 Down there we saw a little city bathed in 
 warm afternoon sunshine its square white 
 houses shining like caskets carved in ivory, with 
 olive groves of tender grey, pretty domes and 
 a few red roofs, and rows of conspicuous cypress 
 trees. Pearls on an emerald background were 
 
Nazareth 107 
 
 outlying houses dotted about the slopes ; for 
 fourteen hills compassed this little city about, 
 save where, right ahead, the eye swept on over 
 an expanse of flat green country that died away 
 in the soft tones of great distance. 
 
 It was Nazareth. The view opened out across 
 the Plain of Esdraelon. Also we saw Mount 
 Gilboa. And, far away, snow-clad Hermon rose 
 opalescent into the heavens. 
 
 My brother and 1 surrendered our horses to 
 Solomon and Mahomet. They knew why. 
 They were smiling their appreciation of our 
 enthusiasm. Then, unhampered, and with 
 nothing to divide our attention, we walked 
 down the sandy path that winds in and out 
 among the rocks, leading to the little city 
 below. Nor had we gone far when, on passing 
 a projection in the hill-side, we came upon 
 two girls with happy faces ; and we had our 
 welcome to Nazareth in their pretty little curt- 
 sies and frank, sweet smiles. At this, with 
 Haifa and Acre and Shefa-Amr fresh in our 
 memory, we went on our way marvelling. 
 
 Farther down, when we came among the 
 houses, we saw pretty children going this way 
 and that, alert and glad. They also gave us 
 their smiles. Men and women turned to look 
 at us with interested and friendly faces. 
 
 Our tents were standing in the city, on a 
 vacant area traversed by a road and facing an 
 
108 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 ancient garden wall. I saw little lizards sport- 
 ing among the herbs and mosses that grew in 
 the interstices of that wall. Demure girls came 
 presently to our tents, carrying dainty lace 
 collars and silk scarves which (as we were to 
 learn) they themselves had made; and timidly, 
 bashfully, they brought these their wares to 
 our notice when they deemed us sufficiently at 
 leisure. Handsome boys arrived later to submit 
 coins, tear bottles, amethysts, bronze bracelets, 
 agates, and other relics from the tombs. 
 
 My brother and I were full of astonishment 
 at the sweet faces and gentle manners of the 
 girls and boys of Nazareth. And it was music 
 in our ears to hear their many words of English, 
 spoken very prettily. Reasonable prices were 
 asked, and gratefully accepted, for the things 
 they had to sell welcome change from the 
 extortionate claims whiningly attempted else- 
 where. 
 
 After dinner it was still bright twilight, and 
 we saw a leper approaching slowly along the 
 road. When he came before our tents he stood 
 leaning on his stick ; and even that sadly dis- 
 figured countenance was illumined by a kindly 
 smile. And he went his way, asking for no 
 baksheesh. 
 
 Church bells were ringing in soft, silvery tones 
 as we walked to Mary's Well ; and there we 
 saw women lovely in flowing, coloured robes 
 
Nazareth 
 
 109 
 
 come with their pitchers, marvellously poised on 
 head, to take toll of the shining waters. 
 
 It is pleasant to look, and to look again, 
 at that arched recess of venerable masonry, 
 with the steps across its little protecting wall. 
 Well sites endure throughout the centuries. 
 Jesus and His mother probably drew water 
 there. 
 
 On the sunken stone floor of Mary's Well, 
 when we returned there in the morning, girls 
 
 Kt 
 
 
 MARY'S VELL 
 
no A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 and women were washing their clothes with busy 
 treading and beating. 
 
 In narrow streets of steep gradient were many 
 little shops hollow spaces in the wall, pictur- 
 esque and quaint ; and we saw the butcher, the 
 baker, the barber, and the man who sells nuts, 
 spices, and olives. The strange little market had 
 a golden floor of oranges. Going farther, we 
 found two carpenters' shops where primitive 
 methods survived. Lacking benches and planes, 
 the toilers sat upon the floor, fashioning ploughs 
 out of untrimmed wood. 
 
 Hyssop was growing over a rain-pipe of the 
 Annunciation Church, and on looking down one 
 of the three wells in the courtyard, I found the 
 stonework beautiful with maidenhair fern. But, 
 alas, to go over this and the other Latin 
 churches and it is customary for visitors to be 
 shown these sights was to be distressed by 
 pretensions which, if excusable in the Middle 
 Ages, add nothing to the sanctity of Nazareth in 
 the present day. In truth, after seeing " the 
 Table of Christ," " Mary's Kitchen," " Joseph's 
 Workshop," and " the miraculously suspended 
 pillar," we wished to erase their images from our 
 minds. Nor was this difficult. For the charm 
 of that little city fully engaged our attention. 
 
 And there was a delicious mystery that I 
 wanted to fathom. What made the people so 
 human and kind, and why were the children so 
 
i z 
 
Nazareth 1 1 1 
 
 happy? How came it that Shefa-Amr and 
 Nazareth differed as night from day ? Why 
 was the city of Jesus' boyhood just what one 
 would .wish it to be ? Where was the modern 
 source of light the light we saw reflected in the 
 smiles of the little ones ? 
 
 With these questions on my lips, I called 
 upon the clergyman of the Church Missionary 
 Society, whom I found in a room that might 
 have been the library of an English vicarage. 
 
 " Why/' he cried, enjoying my perplexity, 
 " you evidently have not been to the Orphanage." 
 Two minutes later, under Solomon's escort, I 
 was on my way thither. 
 
 Going up many steps, we found the Orphanage 
 standing among cypresses high up a hill. Seventy 
 girls, with cheeks like peaches, were saying their 
 English reading-lessons. The vast dormitory 
 shone with whiteness. I drank deep of the 
 perfume of great wallflowers growing among 
 lemons in the beautiful garden. Birds flew in 
 and out of the class-rooms chirping and wel- 
 come. 
 
 I had seen, but still I did not understand. 
 For was not the overwhelming majority of the 
 population Moslem, Greek Church, and Latin ? 
 Talking again with that joyous, enthusiastic 
 missionary, I put question upon question, and so 
 found my way to the heart of the mystery. 
 
 In Nazareth there is a large Protestant school 
 
ii2 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 for boys, and three for girls, besides that glorious 
 Orphanage, which, by the by, is supported by 
 the Society for the Promotion of Female Educa- 
 tion in the East an organization whose spirit is 
 more beautiful than its name. And in Nazareth 
 there is a Protestant church, where kindness and 
 love are practised and preached, though the 
 missionary did not say so. But he did tell me 
 of the eagerness of Greek Catholics to be married 
 there. 
 
 In a word, Moslems, Greek Catholics, and 
 Latins hold the small Protestant minority in 
 deep reverence, and send their children to be 
 educated at its academies. Also (and here 
 again I quote his testimony) they ask its prayers 
 of intercession at times of fear, as when, a few 
 years ago, cholera came. To me it seems that 
 in essentials, as distinguished from names the 
 minority has become the majority. 
 
 These were the missionary's last words to me 
 as we parted on the hill-top : " Yes ; tell them 
 of beautiful Nazareth. And I am so glad you 
 like the flowers. Ah ! when that slope is white 
 with narcissus 1 " 
 
 Then we went forward on our travels. And 
 he returned to the little city. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Galilean Villages 
 
 An entrancing panorama Reineh and its well The woman, the 
 pitcher, and the baby Cana Acres blue with bugloss Flights 
 of storks My horse goes lame A loose saddle Kind lads of 
 Lubieh A wounded bird My brother's handsome model 
 Wine-presses cut in the rock The dead lizard A howling 
 hyena Why the men were missing Our aggressive defender 
 Menacing appeal for baksheesh Jackals and mosquitoes. 
 
 XITE saw again the fair panorama we had 
 T seen on arriving at Nazareth. And now 
 we were riding down into it, following a rough 
 track that marks a boundary in sacred geography. 
 For on our left was Zebulon, and to the right 
 of us was Naphtali. But it was all one lovely 
 landscape. 
 
 Since the morning was far advanced when we 
 departed from Nazareth, two miles of travelling 
 brought us to the hour for lunch, and to a 
 favourable spot for the purpose. Mary's well 
 which had stamped its lovely image on my mind 
 as, I think, an indelible memory had here a 
 rural fellow. We halted for our midday meal 
 beside the well of Reineh. 
 8 "3 
 
\ 
 
 114 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 I begrudge the balance of probability that 
 gives Kefr Kenna the stronger title to be iden- 
 tified as Cana of Galilee ; for over Reineh, as 
 we saw it, there brooded a beautiful spirit of 
 peace. 
 
 The well or, as we should say, the spring 
 is seen as a hollow of masonry in the hill-side. 
 Entering, you face a grey old wall, partly re- 
 cessed beneath an arch, and crested with an 
 overhanging tangle of bushes. Near its base 
 the sparkling water gushes. A wing of sup- 
 porting stonework on either side completes the 
 cool little grotto, smelling so moist and mossy. 
 
 We had not been there long before two 
 women came, carrying large graceful jars poised 
 upon their heads ; and when they had filled their 
 vessels and gone away, other women also came, 
 and still others after them. A note of picturesque 
 poverty entered into that procession of quiet 
 figures, clothed so simply in limp draperies of 
 deep hues, which time, and use, and the sunshine 
 had mellowed into an infinite variety of soft 
 tints. 
 
 Their dexterity as water-carriers had a crown- 
 ing proof in the young woman who, besides 
 balancing a large pitcher on her head, carried 
 a baby in her arms. Thus she could not have 
 put up a steadying hand, should the pitcher's 
 equilibrium be imperilled in which contingency 
 her babe might well be overwhelmed with water, 
 
Galilean Villages 115 
 
 did not worse befall. But that barefooted young 
 woman had, it would seem, an absolute and 
 legitimate faith in her capacity so discreetly to 
 walk over the uneven ground as to maintain her 
 head at a steady poise. And, as it happened, 
 her powers of vision were below the average, for 
 I noticed she had lost one eye. 
 
 The women of Reineh, by all we saw of them, 
 won our respectful admiration. They did not 
 dally to gossip at the well, they exchanged no 
 loud-voiced pleasantries, nor did they stare at 
 the strangers. Indeed, their bearing towards us 
 equally avoided the opposite extremes of inquisi- 
 tive curiosity and disdainful aloofness. On 
 passing us they merely smiled a friendly, un- 
 obtrusive welcome. Thus it seemed to me that 
 those humble Bedouins, looking so contented and 
 composed, had not much to learn, in point of 
 manners, from the best- bred ladies of Europe. 
 I think they live too near Nazareth for the case 
 to be otherwise. 
 
 We had glimpses of the village of mud houses, 
 some fifty yards away, whence the women came. 
 Also we saw several of the male inhabitants 
 departing on horseback quiet, dignified men, 
 each with his brows encircled by the black 
 horsehair coil that holds the head-cloths in 
 position. It was the one notable feature of 
 their toilet, which seemed otherwise an affair of 
 nondescript rags. 
 
ir6 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 After lunch we resumed our journey, still 
 going through beautiful, undulating country ; 
 and in a little while we came to the village that 
 is thought to be Cana a village nestling on the 
 side of a sheltered hill, where pomegranates and 
 wild olives grow among the fig-trees. Pointing 
 westward to a rocky summit, Solomon said that 
 was Jonah's birthplace. 
 
 As we rode slowly through Kefr Kenna, our 
 route was lined by demure and smiling girls 
 and boys, who sought to win our custom for the 
 articles of needlework, clean, white, and dainty, 
 they held up before us. The prices, proclaimed 
 in musical chorus for those children spoke in 
 terms of currency to be understood by travellers 
 seemed reasonable enough ; but my brother 
 and I were of the wrong sex to desire specimens 
 of those pretty goods, and so, blowing kisses to 
 the little ones, we continued on our way. 
 
 Half an hour later we faced a far perspective 
 of level ground. It proved a land of flowers. 
 We passed across acres blue with bugloss. The 
 young crops on cultivated land formed patches 
 of vivid green. Great white birds flew over the 
 plain in graceful, dazzling processions ; and I 
 was still watching those flights of storks when 
 Solomon announced a discovery which I ought 
 to have made. My horse was walking lame. 
 
 On examining the faulty foot, Mahomet 
 satisfied himself there was nothing more amiss 
 
Galilean Villages 
 
 117 
 
 with it than a farrier could readily put right. 
 Meanwhile I perceived advantage to me in 
 this misfortune to the poor brute. For in such 
 a plight he could not repeat the mad behaviour 
 which, on the Levantine shore, had done so 
 
 *^# 
 
 THE WELL OF CANA 
 
 and 
 
 much to unsettle my faith in horseflesh : 
 I directed Mahomet to untie the tow-rope. 
 
 Thus my period of bondage came to a close, 
 and I resumed the independent status of one 
 who rides his horse unaided an experience, by 
 the way, from which I had not been wholly 
 cut off during recent days. For, every now 
 
1 1 8 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 and then, that the spirit of liberty might not 
 expire within my bosom, my brother had lent 
 me his docile steed, and himself had a spell of 
 captivity. 
 
 After we had resumed our journey, I felt 
 that my tribulations in the saddle were surely 
 over at last. For nothing could have been 
 more reassuring than the prompt and good- 
 tempered way in which my horse obeyed every 
 suggestion of the bridle. But my equestrian 
 ill-luck had not yet run its course. 
 
 Riding beside Solomon, I expressed an im- 
 proved opinion of the animal provided for me. 
 
 " It good horse very good horse," he replied. 
 " But a pity he begin his journey on the flat 
 country. He feel strong, he very fresh after his 
 rest, so he not let you stop him gallop. But 
 there are no more days when we travel on 
 flat country except for a little while, the same 
 as now. All the rest is up a mountain, down 
 a mountain hard work for the horses. So they 
 not want to gallop any more. Your horse never 
 make any more trouble for you." 
 
 As he spoke, he gazed at my steed with a 
 complacency that quickly gave place to con- 
 sternation. 
 
 " At once stop, please ! " he cried. " Your 
 girth-strap quite loose, is it ! I wonder you not 
 fall off." 
 
 As a matter of fact, experience had shown 
 
u 
 
Galilean Villages 119 
 
 me that my saddle was in the nature of a sliding 
 seat, and, while making discreet experiments 
 as to the best way of preserving an upright 
 position, I had been secretly reproaching myself 
 for not having previously noticed the instability 
 of a rider's leather throne. 
 
 Whether Mahomet had been careless, or 
 whether my horse had been saddled after a 
 heavy meal, and had since lost circumference, 
 I do not know. But when the anxious muleteer 
 had tightened my straps I greatly appreciated 
 the rigidity thereby imparted to the saddle. By 
 the process of learning one thing and unlearning 
 another, my education in horsemanship was 
 slowly advancing. 
 
 It was hot but very pleasant on our eastward 
 journey along that verdant plain, the eye 
 delighting to roam over the northern range of 
 hills, tinted by olive groves to a beautiful grey. 
 
 Five miles from Kefr Kenna, our day's 
 journey ended in the early evening, when we 
 arrived at our encampment. It stood on gentle 
 undulations, with a village scarce discernible in 
 the background. 
 
 An English village, with its church tower 
 and two-storied houses, can be seen from afar. 
 But a Syrian village is but a honeycomb of 
 square chambers scarce six feet high, with roofs 
 which, being flat and innocent of chimney pots, 
 are invisible ; so that a few mounds or bushes 
 
120 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 may hide the whole of it. That we were just 
 outside a village Lubieh, its name the eye 
 had evidence only in the number of inhabitants 
 who had come forth to see the travellers and 
 their canvas dwellings. 
 
 The bearing of our visitors, who were for 
 the most part in their teens, at once recom- 
 mended them to our good opinion. They were 
 not shy or sullen, nor did any element of 
 hostility or derision enter into their behaviour. 
 In a word, they smilingly accepted us for 
 friends ; and my brother, anxious to induce one 
 of those picturesque youngsters to serve him 
 for a model, warned Solomon on no account 
 to send them away. 
 
 The young people of Lubieh obviously found 
 us very interesting ; but not for long did we 
 monopolize their attention. One of their number 
 arrived with a live stork in his arms an 
 incident which, since birds of that class flew in 
 such numbers thereabouts, I at first took to 
 be part of the everyday life of people who, 
 living amid wild nature, would presumably have 
 some dexterity in hunting and snaring. 
 
 That my surmise was mistaken, however, 
 needed no further proof than the gratified air 
 of the captor, and the eagerness with which 
 his fellows gathered about him. There was a 
 keen competition to fondle the bird, which, 
 making no effort to escape, turned its head 
 
Galilean Villages 
 
 121 
 
 from one to the other, as though fully conscious 
 no harm was intended it. Solomon learnt that 
 the boy had found the poor stork suffering 
 from an injury that prevented flight. How 
 this injury was contracted, no one know. 
 
 When the affair was beginning to lose its 
 novelty, my brother got ready his sketching 
 tools, and bade Solomon ask a certain handsome 
 youth to sit for his portrait a request promptly 
 understood and cheerfully granted. 
 
 Truly we were again amongst a kind and 
 enlightened people. Strange that in so small 
 a country as Palestine we should already have 
 happened upon human communities which, if 
 indistinguishable in the matter of attire and 
 domestic resources, differed in spirit as does 
 
 
 THE WOUNDED STORK 
 
122 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 night from day. In giving my impressions of 
 those who proved hostile and uncouth, I have 
 not hesitated to use the words " barbarous " 
 and " uncivilized," and, indeed, none others seem 
 so applicable. But in describing the lads and 
 lasses of Lubieh their compassionate interest 
 in the maimed bird, and their fraternal bearing 
 towards ourselves I find myself searching the 
 vocabulary for epithets of the opposite signifi- 
 cance. Those young people seemed not merely 
 civilized, but cultured ; to use that term in its 
 loftiest application, as pointing to a state of the 
 heart rather than of the mind. Nor was that 
 impression weakened, if it certainly was not 
 strengthened, by a dash of audacity in some of 
 the youths a characteristic leading to an inci- 
 dent that amused my brother and myself as 
 much as it scandalized Solomon. 
 
 Taking things, however, in the order of their 
 happening, I should first mention that, while 
 the sketch was in progress, I set out to explore 
 our undulating surroundings. 
 
 There were many flowers, the bright bugloss 
 competing with glowing anemones in a shimmer 
 of wild mustard. But something of a different 
 character also engaged my attention. Here and 
 there the fair vegetation was interrupted by rock 
 surfaces, and at one place a large square had 
 been cut out of the solid stone, though for what 
 purpose I could not divine. Elsewhere I found 
 
Galilean Villages 123 
 
 another of these artificial basins, and, examining 
 this one more narrowly than the last, I noted 
 that, since the edges were blunted by time, the 
 cutting could not be of recent date. Nor, 
 clearly, as accumulations of moss and grit 
 attested, was it in present-day use. Pushing 
 away an overhanging tangle of vegetation, I 
 traced a connecting channel that communicated 
 with another basin cut in the rock at a higher 
 elevation. 
 
 Complicated by this new feature, the mystery 
 was more tantalizing than ever ; and I went 
 back and fetched Solomon. 
 
 " Wine-presses," he explained, on reaching 
 the spot. " See now " and he proceeded to 
 demonstrate " the grapes are put in this place, 
 and when they are pressed the juice runs down 
 to that place. Then it becomes wine." 
 
 Two Lubieh youths had accompanied us, and 
 I bade Solomon ask them if they had known, 
 or heard, of wine being made in those alfresco 
 vats. Recognizing that he knew much more 
 about such matters than they could be expected 
 to, the worthy dragoman was at first disposed 
 to disregard this request, in which, however, I 
 persisted, since, as I tried to make him under- 
 stand, my desire was not so much to learn about 
 wine-presses as to find out what those two lads 
 knew about them. 
 
 Speech was accordingly exchanged in Arabic, 
 
124 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Solomon's share of the conversation being marked 
 by a rising note of dissent. 
 
 M Bah ! " he presently interpreted ; " they very 
 ignorant. They know nothing. They think " 
 and he shrugged his shoulders over the anti- 
 quarian fallacy " people long ago use the hole 
 in the rock to make oil. But oil-presses they 
 are cut much deeper. It is wine-presses we 
 see here." 
 
 Nor had I any reason to question his decision, 
 though, as he himself remarked, the cultivation 
 of the vine seemed to be wholly neglected, in 
 that particular district, at the present time. 
 
 Sauntering back towards our camp, we saw 
 yet a third basin cut in the solid stone, this one 
 being half full of water from the recent rain ; 
 and I saw, floating in that pool, a little dead 
 lizard with bright yellow spots on his upturned 
 belly. 
 
 When my brother's sketch was done, we had 
 our dinner, and it was during this meal, while 
 the twilight was deepening without, that our 
 ears were distressed by a lugubrious howling 
 suggestive of no domestic quadruped with which 
 we were acquainted. It was a hyena, Solomon 
 presently informed us, and a hyena that was 
 causing some local anxiety, since the brute had 
 already killed one donkey, and was manifestly 
 bent on further mischief. Nor did this exhaust 
 the tidings with which a visit to the village had 
 
Galilean Villages 125 
 
 charged our dragoman. It seemed that the 
 population of the place had been that day 
 depleted of thirty men, whom the Turkish 
 authorities had marched off to assist in some 
 desultory warfare proceeding in Arabia. The 
 matter had the greater interest for us since there 
 remained no adult villagers with the necessary 
 military training to serve as our guard. 
 
 Solomon had, on his own admission, conducted 
 an angry argument with the chief folk of Lubieh 
 touching their responsibilities towards English 
 travellers ; though, let me say here, I personally 
 fail to see by what right he compelled the 
 inhabitants at every place where we stopped, to 
 provide us with protectors against themselves. 
 However, on this, as on other occasions, the 
 masterful dragoman gained his point ; and it 
 appeared that, since mature soldiers were not 
 available, he had consented to make do with 
 two youths certified to be of a warlike and 
 fearless spirit. 
 
 Nor was it long before one of our custodians, 
 with a great clatter of accoutrements, strode into 
 our tent. His appearance set us gaping. A 
 handsome lad, who carried his head at a 
 proud elevation, his raiment was distinguished 
 by a wealth of colours and embroidery. But 
 what arrested our gaze was the armoury of 
 knives and pistols that formed a belt of terror 
 around his slim body. The good people of 
 
126 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Lubieh had apparently been concerned that 
 what he lacked in years should be made good 
 by the number of his weapons. Supposing his 
 colleague to be armed with anything like the 
 same prodigality, I could only conclude that, 
 awed by Solomon's stern admonitions, those 
 conscientious Syrians had brought together, on 
 our behalf, every implement of slaughter their 
 village possessed. Woe betide the poor hyena, 
 I could not help reflecting, should he visit our 
 tents in the night. 
 
 Lowering his carbine to the ground, our 
 visitor drew attention first to the largest of his 
 many curved knives, and then to the belt of 
 cartridges that encircled his chest. And the 
 next minute, placing his right hand on the butt 
 of an enormous pistol, he sternly demanded, 
 " Baksheesh ! Baksheesh ! " 
 
 Since arriving in Palestine we had been sub- 
 jected to many applications for a gratuity ; but 
 this was the first time supplication had been 
 supported by firearms. The picturesque youth, 
 in thus turning his weapons against us, was 
 certainly acting outside his duty as our pro- 
 tector. Solomon was grievously displeased, and 
 soon he was giving us an English summary of 
 the torrent of Arabic denunciation he poured 
 against the offender. 
 
 " I ask him," he indignantly explained, " if he 
 call that respectable. I tell him to be ashamed. 
 
Galilean Villages 127 
 
 And he the son of the headman ! Bah 1 the 
 foolish fellow he think himself a king." 
 
 My brother and I, for our part, instructed 
 Solomon to tell him he was a naughty boy. 
 Then, observing how abashed he had grown in 
 the face of so much censure, we so far relented 
 as to present him with half an ounce of tobacco. 
 Gladly clutching his prize, our guardian departed 
 to the post of duty. 
 
 Ere we went to sleep, the note of the hyena 
 was supplemented by the plaintive wailing of 
 jackals. Another new experience was that 
 mosquitoes buzzed about our pavilion, so that 
 now we were grateful for the muslin screens 
 that hung over our beds. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Tiberias 
 
 The Sea of Galilee : a superb view Horns of Hattin The " Five 
 Loaves" Walking waist-deep in flowers Tiberias and its 
 inhabitants The market-place Finding a farrier Our camp 
 on the shore Visit to Hamman Experiences in the steaming 
 darkness Tidings of a tragedy The dead girl. 
 
 EXT day we were 
 early in the saddle, 
 and in the hot 
 sunshine we tra- 
 versed more hills 
 of Galilee, watch- 
 ing the many 
 storks fly over a 
 mwpjTV w r country gloriously 
 
 V green. And soon 
 
 we attained a summit that gave us a vista 
 never to be forgotten. 
 
 We looked down upon the far sweep of a 
 fertile valley mapped into tiny squares of brown 
 and green areas of ploughed land and growing 
 
 crops. But for long we had eyes only for that 
 
 tat 
 
Tiberias 129 
 
 to which the valley led the smooth, quiet face 
 of a lake, grey and purple with the reflection of 
 the mountains rising from its farther shore, 
 mountains in front of other mountains that 
 merged with the sky in a lilac haze. It was the 
 Sea of Galilee. 
 
 That vast, varied, sun-lit landscape, so full ot 
 gentle majesty, affected me like nothing I had 
 ever seen before like nothing I shall ever see 
 again. For human experience admits no other 
 opportunity for so exquisite a harmony of earthly 
 beauty and divine associations. As I looked 
 upon the Sea of Galilee, a sense of supreme 
 privilege came over me, and my heart sang with 
 gratitude. But my mind was consciously over- 
 whelmed. In those glorious moments, more 
 was offered to the imagination than the imagi- 
 nation could grasp. So I found myself making 
 a deliberate effort to print upon my memory the 
 physical facts of valley, water, and mountains, 
 with their grades of beautiful colouring, so that 
 I should have opportunity, with the beautiful 
 picture in my mind, to realize its significance in 
 quiet hours to come. 
 
 I can but catalogue some details of that 
 thrilling geography as pointed out by Solomon. 
 The eminence just left behind us, with its group 
 of little trees showing against the sky, was the 
 Horns of Hattin one of the two sites associated 
 by tradition with the Sermon on the Mount. 
 9 
 
130 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 On turning our heads we saw the other a hill 
 beyond the valley and sloping towards the lake, 
 a hill with its vegetation interrupted here and 
 there with patches of exposed brown rocks. 
 One of two white specks upon the north-west 
 shore was a ruin that marked the site of 
 Capernaum. That rising ground across the 
 water was the Gergesene cliffs. The spot on 
 which we stood, with its group of boulders, was 
 identified by Empress Helena as the place where 
 five thousand were miraculously fed, and 
 though stronger probability belongs to a site 
 across the lake the Arabs name those stones 
 the "Five Loaves." Active little lizards were 
 sunning themselves upon the largest of the group. 
 The ground thereabout was brilliant with ane- 
 mones, cistus, cornflowers, and marguerites. But 
 those flowers were but the promise of what was 
 to come, like the first few flakes of the snow- 
 storm. 
 
 Once more moving, we went by a winding 
 path downward towards the lake ; and our way 
 was through a paradise. To the right and left 
 of our serpentine course, so far as the eye could 
 roam over that sunny mountain side, it was 
 flowers, flowers, and still flowers ; growing as 
 high as a crop of barley ; animate with butter- 
 flies and bees ; rich blue spikes of lupin waving 
 above the shimmering rainbow-haze of petals .; 
 the air full of soft, delicious perfume. 
 
Traditional site of the Miracle 
 of the Loaves and Fishes. 
 
 Harold Copping. 
 
Tiberias 131 
 
 Giving my horse to the muleteer, I waded 
 out into that sea of flowers, so that their shining 
 brightness was a strain to my eyes and I was 
 splashed to the knees with pollen. 
 
 On a sudden, at a bend in the path, that region 
 of hallowed history disclosed a new wonder to 
 our eyes. Down below, upon the margin of the 
 sea, was a little city shining white tiny domes 
 and minarets and houses, as if exquisitely cut in 
 ivory. This was Tiberias, whitened because of 
 the sun, and because of Jewish rites. To sharpen 
 and beautify the contrast, the Sea of Galilee, 
 viewed from this lower level, was a background 
 of rich marine blue. 
 
 On nearing the city, we saw the grey ruins of 
 a castle with its embracing wall ; and presently 
 we met some few of the inhabitants going about 
 their pastoral affairs a drowsy youth driving a 
 large flock of black goats ; a Moslem leading 
 a string of camels ; three patriarch Jews, one 
 riding an ass, two going slowly on foot. Many 
 men were squatting in the roadway outside the 
 city's crumbling stone entrance. 
 
 We passed through the uneven, narrow, un- 
 washed streets of Tiberias, with barefooted 
 children in picturesque rags following at our 
 heels. Peeping inside some of the little white 
 houses, we saw bright-apparelled women asquat 
 on the stone floors, preparing food. Yellow and 
 white dogs met us with unfriendly growling. 
 
132 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 The market-place, rudely roofed with boards 
 against the sunlight, was peopled mainly by girls 
 of dark-eyed beauty, and venerable Jews with 
 curly locks and beards, jet black or gone grey. 
 Oranges, spices, lentils, harness, cord, bread, 
 prunes, tobacco these were conspicuous among 
 the wares. Also we saw an area of pavement 
 where the thick, round fish of Galilee were 
 exposed for sale. 
 
 Having passed through the city, we found 
 upon its outskirts a farrier at work beside his 
 al fresco forge ; and our thoughtful dragoman 
 took the opportunity to have my horse attended 
 to. For the poor brute's limp, if not very 
 pronounced, still continued. 
 
 Having surrendered my steed to the smith, 
 I experienced the agreeable change, when we 
 resumed our journey, of accompanying my com- 
 panions on foot. We proceeded along a road that 
 ran beside the lake, that beautiful expanse of still 
 water lying on our left, while the open country 
 rose to verdant uplands on our right. Nor had 
 we gone quite a mile before we found our tents 
 standing ready to receive us upon the shore. 
 
 Nowhere in the world, I think, could a more 
 delightful and interesting camping ground be 
 chosen. Our surroundings invited us to rest, 
 and meditate, and be happy. My brother and I 
 brought out our stools and sat awhile in silence, 
 looking out upon the lovely lake. Little splashes 
 
Tiberias 133 
 
 of leaping fish were the only sounds. And anon 
 we sauntered along the broad beach of large 
 pebbles, which were white and grey. We picked 
 up dainty shells. There was a clean smell of 
 water in the evening air. 
 
 Many miles of the Sea of Galilee lay before 
 us, stretching far to right and left, but no sail 
 was in sight. The only visible craft were a few 
 row-boats anchored off Tiberias. Looking in 
 the opposite direction, we saw, about a mile 
 away, a lonely domed building, small and yellow, 
 as a conspicuous landmark on the shore. Solomon 
 told us it was Hamman hot baths of great 
 antiquity, and still in use. Eager for a luxury, 
 and nothing loath for an adventure, we said we 
 should like to go there ; and our resourceful 
 dragoman undertook to make the necessary 
 arrangements. 
 
 Thus it came about that, an hour after dinner, 
 my brother and I, accompanied by a local guide, 
 set out on foot for Hamman. The night lacked 
 a moon, but our companion carried a lamp, 
 which proved almost as useful in the building as 
 upon the uneven road. 
 
 From a small courtyard, which was given 
 over to dogs and untidiness, we groped along 
 a narrow passage that led to a chamber warm, 
 wet, and mysterious. Between pillars we saw 
 the yellow flicker of a single candle, revealing 
 clouds of vapour. Our guide's Istronger light 
 
134 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 showed us to be walking on a stone pathway 
 that glistened with moisture; and from its 
 curving course we perceived that we trod a 
 circle. The stone pillars, occurring at regular 
 intervals, bordered the inner circumference. 
 
 Within that circle of pathway and pillars, 
 the rays of our lamp melted in the rising steam, 
 leaving our knowledge of that interior still 
 incomplete. 
 
 Meanwhile, if sight asked for more, other 
 senses suffered repletion. A perspiring languor 
 had come over me. I wanted air. A promise 
 of dizziness affected my temples. Indeed, if this 
 bath had won the approbation of Pliny and 
 Josephus (and we had Solomon's word for that), 
 my preference would be, I felt, for something 
 less suffocating. 
 
 On the outer circumference of our path, the 
 wall rose only to a height of some thirty inches, 
 when the perpendicular became nearly horizontal 
 to a recessed depth of about six feet, the continued 
 wall being a back to the lounge (covered with 
 grass matting) thus formed. Obeying the gesti- 
 culated directions of our conductor, we there 
 reclined at sleepy ease until, in a little while, our 
 bodies felt more attuned to their surroundings. 
 Not yet, however, could our eyes gain a full 
 view of a chamber which seemed so strangely to 
 combine the attributes of a wash-house and a 
 tomb. 
 
Tiberias 135 
 
 A sudden splash commanding attention, we 
 slid off our stone couch and went cautiously 
 to the spot whence came the sound. Here, 
 seated beside a pillar, we found the brown ghost 
 of a naked Bedouin with upturned, grinning 
 face. He soon discovered, as our conductor 
 had done, that it was unavailing to address the 
 two Englishmen in Arabic ; but by signs and 
 exclamations he made us understand that his 
 feet reached the water where he sat, and that, 
 while the bath had a shallow margin for a couple 
 of feet or so, this led by a precipitous step to a 
 depth that could drown a man. 
 
 The voices brought to life another brown 
 figure beside another pillar ; and, for our en- 
 couragement, the two native bathers stood waist- 
 deep in the water and made a great splashing. 
 Then one, in the merriment of his heart, fell 
 a-singing, and out of the steam there came a 
 single syllable weirdly sustained, with faint 
 gradations of note, for an astonishing period 
 that representing, at any rate, the impression 
 Arabic singing makes, at a first acquaintance, 
 on a western ear. 
 
 Stooping, I put my hand in the water. It 
 was hot so hot, in fact, that I could not help 
 feeling, if 1 entered that water to bathe, I might 
 peradventure stay there to be boiled. 
 
 But knowledge only cometh by experience; 
 so I removed my garments and dipped an ex- 
 
136 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 perimental foot in the steaming fluid. Having 
 plucked up resolution to give it the company 
 of its fellow, there I sat humbly on the stone- 
 work, waiting courage for further immersion. 
 
 Confidence came by degrees, and anon the 
 two English bathers stood upright on the margin 
 of least depth, fetching their breath how they 
 could in the clouds of steam. Then my brother, 
 plunging headlong, swam across the bath ; and, 
 since he returned none the worse (but, indeed, 
 much uplifted in spirit), I found heart to copy 
 his behaviour. So that presently the pair of 
 us were swimming in full enjoyment to and 
 fro across that small area, drawing ejaculations 
 of enthusiasm from the Bedouin bathers, who, 
 it would seem, could not put their arms and 
 legs to such service. 
 
 That water, hot from the inside of the earth, 
 had a soft and silky feel, though unpleasantly 
 sulphurous to the taste and smell. From our 
 new point of view we could discern the dome 
 of the building above our heads. 
 
 In subsequent soapings and sluicings by an 
 attendant, experiences in a Turkish bath had 
 their counterpart. A notable shortcoming of 
 the establishment then revealed itself. It had 
 no dressing-room. An apartment of a lower 
 temperature was manifestly essential if the 
 burden of clothes were to be resumed in any 
 comfort, and if one were to confront the cool 
 
Tiberias 137 
 
 night air with confidence and closed pores. We 
 had perforce to take the risk ; nor, walking 
 briskly back to our tents, did we contract the 
 chills we courted. 
 
 Next morning, when we arose, the sun was 
 sparkling on the Sea of Galilee. But a heavi- 
 ness rested on our camp, and we saw our 
 servants conferring together with sad faces. A 
 piteous tragedy had just happened at Tiberias, 
 as we learnt from Solomon, who had the facts 
 from early wayfarers along the road. 
 
 Affliction had fallen on Rabbi Abraham, a 
 rich man who owned many houses. But chief 
 among his possessions was Maryetta his daughter, 
 who was sixteen years old and very beautiful. 
 Strangers, when they saw her in the doorway, 
 ever asked who that lovely girl might be, and 
 were told she was the comeliest maid in all 
 Tiberias. 
 
 At four o'clock that morning Rabbi Abraham 
 had risen, as his custom was, and gone forth 
 to the synagogue, that he might perform his 
 prayers before the rising of the sun. Re- 
 turning, he heard cries and lamentations from 
 afar ; and as, walking swiftly, he drew nigh his 
 home, behold ! the roof and walls were fallen. 
 And in the cloud of dust many neighbours were 
 gathered together, uttering a loud wailing and 
 wringing their hands. 
 
 Out of the ruins they drew the wife of Rabbi 
 
j 38 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Abraham, sorely injured but still alive. Digging 
 deeper, they found the body of Maryetta, who, 
 unhurt by falling stones and timber, had died 
 of suffocation. And when Rabbi Abraham saw 
 that his daughter was dead (I relate the facts 
 much as they were told me, through Arabic 
 
 RUINS OF THE FALLEN HOUSE, TIBERIAS 
 
 into English), he rent his garments, and was 
 afflicted with great sorrow, saying : "I would 
 pay as much as had been her weight in gold 
 rather than this thing should have befallen me. 
 I would that all my other children were taken 
 from me if only this one were spared." For 
 
Tiberias 139 
 
 Maryetta had been his chief joy, and he had 
 spent much money to buy her beautiful clothes. 
 Passing through Tiberias during the day, we 
 came upon the scene of sadness a great heap 
 of dust and timber, where excavators toiled with 
 their picks. Already the body of Maryetta had 
 been laid in the tomb ; and that night, as I sat 
 outside our tents, writing the sad story in my 
 diary, a muleteer rode in with the news that 
 Rabbi Abraham's wife was dead. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 On the Sea of Galilee 
 
 Our voyage on the lake Snow-clad Hermon Shelter in a vault 
 Sounds from the shore Bathing in two temperatures " The 
 Place of the Big Fishes " A naked fisherman : his ingenious 
 methods Dense shoals of fish Explorations ashore The hos- 
 pitable fishermen Minstrelsy afloat Wrecked in a squall 
 A ride to the Jordan The river entrance Companionship 
 without words Good-bye to Galilee Scorpions, adders, and 
 tarantulas. 
 
 TTARLY on the morrow we started for a 
 *-' cruise upon the Sea of Galilee. It was 
 a grey morning, and Mount Hermon was not 
 visible. Since we left Acre, that landmark of 
 Israel had figured daily as a shape of opal 
 prettiness in the sky on our northward horizon. 
 Sometimes we had seen the far sweep of the 
 mountains of Lebanon, but it was always Her- 
 mon that stood highest in the heavens. 
 
 Over night, distances had been sharply defined 
 in clear hues, and when we were deep in twi- 
 light, still the sun had shone on snow-capped 
 Hermon. This morning the scenery was charged 
 with moisture and menace. None but the near 
 
 mountains could be seen. 
 
 140 
 
On the Sea of Galilee 141 
 
 For a while the lake was like a sheet of 
 polished slate. Then suddenly its surface was 
 pitted and a-splash with a hissing torrent of large 
 rain-drops ; and our five sailors, leaving their 
 great oars hanging, wriggled into oilskins. 
 Though we donned garments almost as imper- 
 vious, no covering could avail against that 
 violent downpour, and we readily consented to 
 shape an immediate course towards shore and 
 shelter. 
 
 Being but a few furlongs out from Tiberias, 
 we found asylum in an architectural relic of that 
 city's former self one of the several vaults of 
 substantial masonry which, with a depth of 
 water ample for our craft, gave sufficient head- 
 room for ourselves. In that dark cavern of 
 man's making we tarried until the rain ceased, 
 the heavens opened blue and sunbeams sparkled 
 on the sea. 
 
 Emerging from our shelter, we found that this 
 arched remnant of an ancient building formed 
 one boundary of a little secluded cove, where 
 girls and women of Tiberias stood ankle-deep in 
 the water washing clothes. 
 
 We continued our voyage northward, leaving 
 the city behind, and distantly skirting a shore 
 of gentle undulations that rose in the background 
 to be mountains. Across the water came the 
 soft voice of an unseen shepherd-boy singing 
 among the leafy hills ; and also we heard the 
 
142 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 lazy tinkling of the wether-bells. Later I espied 
 a distant string of camels, tiny as spiders, cross 
 the crest of a hill, making towards Tiberias. 
 Then for a mile or so, moving on the smooth 
 water, we were alone with the scenery and the 
 birds. From side to side, from end to end, no 
 vessel was in sight ; for a bend in the shore had 
 hidden Tiberias, with its half-dozen row-boats 
 anchored in the little bay. The Sea of Galilee 
 was a lovely solitude. 
 
 My brother and I bathed, experiencing two 
 sorts of water one luxuriously warm, the other 
 numbingly cold. We were but thirty yards 
 from the shore, where a hot stream came 
 tumbling over dark stones into the sea. So 
 considerable was the volume of this tributary 
 that its waters spread far. We swam into 
 patches of warmth, and the water between and 
 underneath felt, by contrast, icy. 
 
 Our sailors offered to take us to " the place 
 of the big fishes," and, one destination serving 
 like another where interest was universal, to this 
 we assented. In a little time they ceased from 
 rowing, and, hushing us to silence, caused our 
 eyes to obey their pointing fingers. Sure 
 enough, ten yards away, the water broke with 
 noisy splashings, and we saw the curved backs 
 and protruding fins of vigorous fish. After 
 watching these creatures appear and disappear in 
 the ringed and restless water we looked towards 
 
On the Sea of Galilee 
 
 *43 
 
 the shore and saw a naked fisherman. Girt only 
 with a loin-cloth, he stood knee-deep in the 
 water a fine figure of a young man in burnished 
 bronze. 
 
 From his right hand, held high, hung a rope 
 of net in heavy folds. Cautiously, furtively, the 
 
 "AND THERE HE STOOD, STILL AS A STATUE' 
 
144 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 fisherman crept farther from the shore until 
 immersed to the waist ; and there he stood, still 
 as a statue, though I noticed his eyes intently 
 scanning the water. Suddenly the bronze image 
 quickened into active life. He swung his net 
 thrice round his head, so that, from being a 
 cluster of coils, it expanded into a large meshed 
 disc, which, on being released from his hold, 
 flew lightly on to the water a yard or so away. 
 The net sank rapidly from its margin (mani- 
 festly encircled with weights), the centre being 
 last to disappear. 
 
 Swimming forward, the fisherman plunged, so 
 that for a brief space we saw two brown legs 
 slanting out of the water ; then only two brown 
 feet ; and finally the man had vanished as com- 
 pletely as his gear. 
 
 For several seconds our eyes knew nothing of 
 him. When we saw him again his left hand 
 clutched at his net, whereof the weighted margin, 
 being drawn together, formed the neck of a bag ; 
 and, thrusting in his right hand, he drew forth 
 a wriggling fish. This he straightway flung to 
 the shore, where we saw it vigorously flopping 
 on the pebbles, until a man, stepping from among 
 the rocks, removed the captive to a situation of 
 greater security. Then the fisherman, shifting 
 his hold of the net, shook out its coils and 
 repeated his cunning manoeuvres, this time 
 catching two fish. 
 
On the Sea of Galilee 145 
 
 We bade our sailors row us ashore ; and when 
 they had done so, the young fisherman, ceasing 
 from his labours, came forward to welcome us 
 with a smile so human and engaging that I 
 made bold to take his photograph. Then we 
 looked about us at the snug quarters of these 
 primitive fisher- folk. A hollow in the rock gave 
 shelter against wind and rain, and in that long 
 shallow cave half a dozen men were squatting. 
 Two, using their hands as spoons, were dining 
 from a pot of steaming lentils. Several nets 
 were spread to dry upon the bushes. 
 
 I climbed a steep path leading to a ledge of 
 rock that overhung the shore. Thence one 
 looked down upon the transparent water, which 
 gleamed and shimmered with silver flashes and 
 little grey shapes. The mind took some moments 
 to realize that these were fish. Here, there, 
 near and far, in deep water and in shallow, 
 occurred the crowded swarm of gliding, darting 
 forms. Truly the Sea of Galilee is densely 
 populated with bream and barbel and other fish. 
 
 I turned from the green and glittering water 
 to ramble in the flowery wilderness to tread the 
 lovely tangle of bugloss and cyclamen and iris. 
 Five minutes brought me to a little valley, with 
 fig-trees obtruding above the jungle of varied 
 vegetation ; and, penetrating into the shade, I 
 came upon a large bath or cistern of venerable 
 masonry moss-grown fragment of a forgotten 
 10 
 
146 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 city. It held a foot or so of clear, warm water, 
 which flowed in from an unseen spring and over- 
 flowed down a little ferny ravine that looked 
 like a home of the fairies. 
 
 The Galilee fishermen, seeing luncheon pre- 
 parations on foot, bestirred themselves to con- 
 tribute supplementary viands some half-dozen 
 of their new-caught fish toasted in the flames of 
 a wood fire, so that the skin was blackened and 
 cracked, revealing white, firm flesh ; and some 
 young peeled stalks of a thistle which, Solomon 
 explained, was much used by the Arabs as food. 
 With honest zeal we ate the burnt flesh and that 
 strange salad. 
 
 Anon returning to our boat, we departed 
 from the pleasant company of those fisher-folk ; 
 nor had we gone far before a breeze sprang up to 
 fret the surface of the sea. So the sailors set 
 aside their oars and unfurled our big white sail, 
 which quickly took us again into view of the 
 domes and palm-trees of Tiberias. 
 
 From one of the anchored row-boats, we were 
 hailed by a youth who, having recently bathed, 
 was replacing his flowing draperies. Gliding 
 within his range, we suffered him to come aboard 
 our vessel ; and the next minute he had broken 
 into song. Heavily pitted by small-pox was the 
 face of this young Arab, but his dark eyes shone 
 with engaging merriment and self-esteem. His 
 minstrelsy (much in request, we were told, at 
 
On the Sea of Galilee 
 
 *47 
 
 THE SEA OF GALILEE AT TIBERIAS 
 
 Tiberias weddings) was certainly the finest vocal 
 performance I had heard in the East. It was 
 explained to us that he sang love ballads of the 
 country ; and certainly here was Arabic music 
 which, besides pleasing at the moment by its soft 
 quality, left some phrases of subtle melody to 
 haunt the memory. 
 
 Meanwhile the breeze strengthened to a con- 
 siderable wind, so that we flew with our great 
 
148 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 canvas wing, the vessel borne over at an angle 
 that brought her bulwarks nearly to the water's 
 surface. With so much pace available, we de- 
 cided to run to the southernmost shore and look 
 upon the River Jordan. But the riot of speed 
 had a thrilling termination. There was a loud 
 report, the little craft quivered from stern to 
 bow, and we all had much ado to keep our seats. 
 The boom had snapped, and about the mast 
 there hung a flapping disarray of ropes and 
 canvas. With some of the wrecked sail dragging 
 in the water, the boat was in temporary peril of 
 capsizing. But strong hands quickly gathered 
 in the disabled canvas. Then the oars were got 
 out, and we rowed to our tents. 
 
 That afternoon my brother, accompanied by 
 Solomon, went to sketch the site which, by the 
 greater weight of probability, is associated with 
 the Sermon on the Mount ; while I, accompanied 
 by Mahomet, set off in the opposite direction, to 
 try and reach the mouth of the Jordan. The dis- 
 tance being considerable, we went on horseback ; 
 and it was a satisfaction to find myself upon an 
 animal that now walked in complete comfort on 
 four sound feet. 
 
 I called a brief halt at Hamman, to examine 
 its environment by daylight. We heard the 
 water gurgling within the closed-in remnant of a 
 former bath, and chinks in the ancient masonry 
 gave out evil smells from the pent-up sulphur 
 
On the Sea of Galilee 149 
 
 fumes. Several springs gushed forth upon the 
 shore, a copious supply of hot water being thus 
 available to all who might desire to use it. 
 
 At one of the steaming pools, two industrious 
 Arab women were washing bright-coloured 
 clothes; and water at a temperature of 144 
 degrees Fahrenheit must be excellent for the pur- 
 pose. I have since learnt that, since 1350 B.C., 
 those hot springs have been credited with a great 
 efficacy in rheumatic complaints ; but neither my 
 brother nor I had been qualified to subject their 
 reputation to a personal test. 
 
 For a mile or so we journeyed comfortably 
 along a well-defined track that ran beside the 
 pleasant shore. But either that track ceased, 
 or we lost it. Still keeping in touch with the 
 lake, we doggedly pushed our way up mounds 
 and down declivities, through a universal growth 
 of tall grass and mustard an impediment that 
 presently distressed our horses, so that they 
 needed some stimulus to persistent effort. But 
 at last, having forged our way through the 
 luxuriant wilderness, we came to where the waters 
 of that fresh-water sea issue as the River 
 Jordan. 
 
 The scene proved simple, quiet, and one 
 might almost say English. At the narrow 
 entrance, the current ran swift and gurgling. 
 Rushes grew beside the grassy banks. There 
 was a croaking of frogs. In the clear shallows 
 
150 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 young fishes darted away in affright at footsteps. 
 I saw sparrows, and little singing birds, and one 
 crested lark. A kingfisher flew by, poised over 
 the river, then dived swiftly, to reappear with a 
 small silver captive in his unerring beak. 
 
 Several row-boats were moored against the 
 bank trim and graceful asdinghies of the Upper 
 Thames. Two small tents, conspicuous among 
 the bushes, showed that other travellers were 
 there before us. A near bend carried the Jordan 
 out of sight, but a perspective of green mountains 
 marked its course. On the shore of the lake, 
 away beyond the river's mouth, I saw Semaleh 
 square houses and a mosque shining in the 
 sunlight. Near where we were standing the 
 mustard and the marguerites grew to an un- 
 usual height. 
 
 Turning our faces towards Hermon, Mahomet 
 and I rode back to the camp ; we having 
 contrived to spend a most sociable afternoon 
 together, despite our inability to exchange one 
 word of human speech. And, indeed, given a 
 feeling of good fellowship, smiles and signs are 
 sufficiently eloquent for all ordinary purposes. 
 
 As my brother and I were fain to agree, the 
 next day brought us to the time when we must 
 resume our travels. The Sea of Galilee, in our 
 personal experiences, had been loveliness without 
 alloy. That nature had put bitter drops in 
 her cup of sweetness, I did not realize until 
 
On the Sea of Galilee 151 
 
 the hour of our going away. Then I heard 
 of scorpions, adders, and tarantulas lurking among 
 the flowers ; which somewhat softened the 
 sadness of departure. My informant was a 
 German resident with a taste for natural history, 
 and he showed me his camphored specimens of 
 the poisonous creatures he named. But, it 
 seems, they scarce assert their presence during 
 the verdant spring. Not till later, when fierce 
 sunshine beats upon the scorched hillsides, do 
 those venomous insects and reptiles mature and 
 multiply. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Amid Hostile Tribes 
 
 Water tortoises A sullen reception at Kefr Sabt Photography leads 
 to friendship An ancient Khan Suspected loiterers Solomon 
 and the tadpoles A little African settlement Mahomet and 
 the piccaninnies Mount Tabor Endor and its unfriendly 
 people Simon and George prepare a surprise Banquets in 
 the wilderness Feverish diplomacy : Solomon on the sick 
 list Our visit to the cave Curious optical development 
 Sketching under difficulties We are suspected of witchcraft. 
 
 r T*HE mountain climb from Tiberias was a 
 A long strain on our horses' strength ; so 
 half way to the summit we lingered awhile at 
 a well where two young women, come there 
 to fill their water jars, sat gossiping on the 
 stonework in the sunshine. Having fallen into 
 an easy chat with one of these, Solomon revealed 
 her as bewailing the departure of her lover 
 that morning for the war, which loss filled her 
 with the intention to return home presently 
 and have a good cry. But English eyes saw 
 small confirmation of the Arabic speech, for 
 the woman was smoking a cigarette and smiling. 
 P'rom the top of the mountain, having looked 
 our last at the Sea of Galilee, we descended 
 
 152 
 
Mountain side overlooking the Lake of Galilee. 
 
 Harold Copping. 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 153 
 
 into a winding valley, hot and moist and green, 
 where we came upon a small pond that provided 
 an unfamiliar interest to our view. Near the 
 shore a stone protruded darkly above the water, 
 and even as my glance chanced to be upon it, 
 the top of that stone fell off with a noisy 
 splash. 
 
 Gazing now with greater curiosity at another 
 exposed stone, we saw it to be capped strangely 
 with a shape that thrust forth a neck, alertly 
 poised ; and imagination saw two eyes like pink 
 beads, and filled with fear. Water tortoises, 
 discerning reader, and a numerous colony thereof. 
 At our near approach we saw them scuttling 
 into deep water, muddying the shallows with 
 cloudy trails. 
 
 Kefr Sabt was our next experience a hot, 
 dusty village of mud houses and hostile Algerian 
 settlers. A company of men squatting within 
 the shadow of a wall met us with dull, frigid 
 looks. There had not been less of friendship 
 and welcome in a shower of arrows. As the 
 Christian dogs were seen approaching, the women 
 had slunk away to their burrows, while the 
 children went and hid in the maze of rude walls 
 and houses. 
 
 We comported ourselves amiably, all un- 
 responsive to this timid, sulky enmity; for, 
 however little these people might favour our 
 presence, we had occasion to tarry awhile in 
 
154 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 the village, that my brother might secure some 
 record of its primitive architecture. Solomon 
 and Mahomet, in a manner deliberately ungentle 
 (for hostile fanaticism needs, in their opinion, 
 to be cowed), mentioned our purpose to the 
 squatting Arabs, who stared and listened in 
 silence, refusing to be interested. 
 
 Yet stolid ignorance was not proof against 
 the promptings of curiosity. That I also might 
 carry away a memento of the place, I shot out 
 the lanky, telescoped legs of my tripod, and 
 made ready to take a photograph. All those 
 eyes by the wall were soon bent upon a proceed- 
 ing so foreign to the familiar happenings of 
 Arab existence, and, ere I had adjusted my 
 focus, a tall, thin man rose and loitered towards 
 me a man whom I had already noted for a 
 certain hint of humour that distinguished his 
 brown face from those of his fellows. As he 
 drew near I turned, and, by way of assurance 
 that I was more of man than monster, directed 
 full at him a smile of frankness and fraternity. 
 At his responsive grin the barriers were removed 
 that divide two races and religions, and the 
 essential brotherhood of humanity was vindi- 
 cated. 
 
 By pantomime we found our way to relations 
 of cordiality and comprehension, and I made 
 myself understood as desiring that some children 
 should come forth as subjects for my camera. 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 
 
 i55 
 
 Gathering his decayed robes more tightly about 
 him, he took long strides to a neighbouring 
 mound, whence he beckoned and shouted to- 
 wards a region where I saw little faces, grave 
 and unyouthful, bob up and down behind a 
 substantial barricade of mud and stones. 
 
 These poor mirthless children, tutored to a 
 fear and hatred of the Christians, would not 
 come to be photographed. But now that one 
 of the untidy, bare-legged Arabs had risen to 
 the nobility of brotherhood, his companions, 
 inspired by healthy example, gathered also 
 about the photographer, forgetting their disdain 
 of him in the wonder excited by his little black 
 box of mysterious mechanism. Yet when the 
 time came for us to mount our horses and be 
 gone, we had no farewell salutations, and our 
 departure was, I cannot doubt, a weight off the 
 minds of the little ones. 
 
156 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 On we journeyed till the hour for lunch found 
 us at a broad track which, since the days of Saul 
 of Tarsus, has been used by caravans passing 
 between Jerusalem and Damascus. Here were 
 the ruins of a spacious khan built centuries 
 ago to afford shelter and refreshment to the 
 travelling merchants. Kestrels were moving, 
 in strong curves of flight, about the old, iron- 
 grey walls ; and we saw them enter black 
 chasms in the crumbling masonry where they 
 had their nests. 
 
 It had been a morning of brilliant, hot sun- 
 shine, so that, though we wore pith helmets 
 and had given our waistcoats to Mahomet, both 
 of us had drooped in the saddle, half-baked and 
 perspiring. For my part, having dispatched an 
 ample meal (and let the climate of Palestine 
 here be commended for its hunger-producing 
 quality), I lay down and slept, omitting to 
 dream that we were beset by robbers. Physical 
 unease, had that peradventure been my portion, 
 would by a natural sequence have put that ill 
 fancy in my brain ; for, ere I closed my eyes, 
 Solomon having exchanged earnest talk on the 
 point with Mahomet apprised us that the place 
 had an ugly name for harbouring certain small- 
 souled thieves, who preyed on unprotected 
 travellers. 
 
 On awakening from my nap (and there was 
 evidence on my brother's easel that it had been 
 
a 
 
 Q 
 
 U 
 
- Amid Hostile Tribes 157 
 
 of some duration), I was reminded of this matter 
 on seeing Solomon and Mahomet who them- 
 selves were wont to slumber after the midday 
 meal still sitting together how last I had seen 
 them, wakeful and whispering, and now with 
 their eyes bent suspiciously on three dark- 
 visaged, ragged Bedouins loitering some few 
 hundred yards away. But if there was mischief 
 in the strangers' minds (and for my part, in the 
 absence of evidence, 1 preferred to think other- 
 wise) there was a wholesome discretion in their 
 hearts ; for, trying none of their tricks upon us, 
 they presently took themselves off. 
 
 Solomon thereupon arose, and, filling a cup 
 at the brook, took a draught to the confusion 
 of horse-thieves and all miscreants. But this, 
 in the estimation of my brother, was to court 
 a more formidable peril than the unkempt 
 wanderers had presented ; for the brook, cours- 
 ing sluggishly across the track of travellers, was 
 none too sparkling, besides containing tadpoles. 
 
 Smiling in full confidence that he acted dis- 
 creetly, Solomon filled and drained the cup 
 anew, and then not for the first time unfolded 
 his philosophy on the anxious drink question. 
 We were right in our Spartan resolve, he con- 
 ceded, that no Palestine water should pass our 
 lips before it had been boiled. But for him 
 and Mahomet the precaution was needless. 
 Their native blood was armed against the subtle 
 
158 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 germs that might set up fever in our foreign 
 blood. 
 
 Whether Solomon was fully justified in those 
 conclusions is a point on which a later occur- 
 rence will be seen to throw some doubt. Mean- 
 while we continued our way through that 
 interesting scenery, the afternoon yielding us 
 a delightful little surprise. For we came upon 
 a bit of Africa a family of negroes with their 
 picturesque cluster of tents built of reeds. Even 
 Solomon seemed to have no very definite idea 
 how those people came to be there. Knowing 
 he had a range of languages equal to most 
 emergencies, I asked him to interview the big- 
 lipped woman who was regarding us with so 
 frank and friendly a smile. 
 
 Of the sustained and animated conversation 
 that took place between them, he afterwards 
 supplied this summary: 
 
 " I ask her if she not go back to her country. 
 She says she waiting to die, because her husband 
 die here." And since the black face shone with 
 health and contentment, I took this to mean 
 that the good soul wished to end her days at 
 that place, to which her heart was linked by 
 associations of tender sadness. That life still 
 held for her some palpable attractions was 
 suggested by the sight of several juvenile blacks 
 who came to gaze at the two white-faced 
 strangers sitting on horses. But I cannot doubt 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 
 
 I 59 
 
 THE RUINED KHAN 
 
 that those little ones, when they afterwards 
 compared impressions of their visitors, must 
 have classed my brother and myself far below one 
 whose complexion was a compromise between 
 their colour and ours. In truth, while Solomon 
 contented himself with talking, and the two 
 Englishmen did nothing but look on, Mahomet 
 rose to a truer sense of his opportunities. 
 
160 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Human nature is superior to mere differences 
 of race and climate, and a curly-haired picca- 
 ninny has no less a zest for " goodies " than 
 the Eton boy whose father wears a coronet. 
 Mahomet had come unprovided with sweet- 
 meats, but he bethought him of the cakes of 
 unleavened bread left over from lunch. The 
 contents of the bag soon changed hands, and 
 thus the sum of gladness in the world was 
 augmented. For those sable urchins devoured 
 the toothsome windfall with grinning gusto ; 
 their mother's eye sparkled to see her little 
 ones so favoured ; while the beaming muleteer 
 was manifestly happy in giving happiness to 
 others. All of which goes to show that, let a 
 man look never so like a blear-eyed brigand on 
 a first acquaintance, he may prove, when you get 
 to know him, a thoroughly good-hearted fellow. 
 
 Journeying through groves and across rocky 
 places, we came into view of Mount Tabor, 
 with the appearance of which we were destined 
 to become familiar. For we saw it in several 
 aspects during the remainder of our winding 
 course among the hills ; and when we reached 
 our camp, there right ahead of us rose that 
 majestic green mountain, with the open vista 
 of the huge Plain of Esdraelon on the left of 
 the picture. 
 
 To see a cave that tradition associates with 
 the witch of Endor, we had come to the village 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 161 
 
 of that name ; Solomon warning us beforehand 
 that we need expect no welcome from the 
 natives. We found a group of them, mostly 
 children, regarding our tents from a discreet 
 distance and solemnly whispering together. To 
 give every opportunity for a friendly understand- 
 ing, my brother and I presently advanced 
 smilingly in their direction, and even beckoned 
 to them to come closer ; but these overtures 
 proved unavailing. At our approach, the elders 
 slunk off and the children ran away. For 
 ignorance begets hatred and hatred begets fear. 
 Endor must rank in the same dismal category 
 with Shefr-Amr and Kafr Sabt ; and once more 
 we were to marvel over the diverse mental 
 conditions of the people of Palestine. I began 
 to think of that little country as a spiritual 
 patchwork of darkness and light. 
 
 But our attention was soon engaged by a 
 matter of purely domestic interest. Simon the 
 cook, asquat beside his pans and charcoal fire, 
 looked more than usually animated ; and when 
 presently he was joined by George the waiter, I 
 noticed the pair of them chuckling over some- 
 thing while they stole sly glances in our direc- 
 tion. My curiosity aroused, I asked Solomon 
 if he happened to know what conspiracy our 
 two retainers were hatching. Then it was his 
 turn to look merry and knowing. 
 
 " For you they make a great surprise," he 
 ii 
 
1 62 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 confidentially explained. "Always you have 
 chickens for dinner, every day the same. So 
 you get very tired of chickens. But this after- 
 noon the cook find a man who sell him some 
 pigeons. They quite sure you both be very 
 pleased when you look in the dish, and find it is 
 not chicken this time." 
 
 Now he mentioned it, I did recall that, in the 
 elaborate dinners Simon continued to cook, and 
 George to serve, the same species of bird figured 
 from day to day in the poultry course. But the 
 flesh of fowl had certainly not grown irksome 
 to me by repetition, nor in that connection had 
 I heard one word of criticism from my brother. 
 However, if the appeal to the palate stirred us 
 to no great enthusiasm, we found Solomon's 
 disclosure delightful enough on personal grounds. 
 
 That Simon and George should avail them- 
 selves of an opportunity to vary our menu was 
 merely a proof of conscientious service. But 
 that, having done so, they should hug the 
 knowledge to their bosoms, and rejoice together 
 over the thought of our impending pleasure, 
 revealed a state of simple-hearted enthusiasm to 
 which, in the Western world, one is not accus- 
 tomed in those temporarily engaged for domestic 
 service. 
 
 When at dinner we reached the innovation, 
 my brother and I did not fail to demonstrate 
 our approval. And, indeed, those pigeons were 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 
 
 163 
 
 TWO OF OUR GUARDS 
 
 excellent, as was every other feature of the 
 banquet. Perhaps I should rather say that we 
 were, as usual, in an appreciative key. The 
 leisurely dinner of many courses is an institution 
 with which, speaking generally, I find myself out 
 of sympathy. Before the function is well started 
 I am apt to wish that the waiter would bring 
 me a plate of meat, a piece of bread, and some 
 vegetables, and have done with it. But after a 
 long day of interesting travel in the hot Palestine 
 sunshine, when you are restfully seated under 
 
164 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 canvas with your face fanned by the cool 
 evening air, I think no method of taking 
 nourishment would seem too deliberate. 
 
 At Endor the stage of coffee and compla- 
 cency had been reached when the abrupt 
 entrance of Solomon served to remind us that, 
 however contented we might be, other people 
 had their little troubles. It was easy to see that 
 something had upset our excellent dragoman. 
 
 " What you think ? " he burst forth ; and, 
 speaking under stress of emotion, he took us into 
 his confidence. It was the old trouble, but in 
 an aggravated form. The people of Endor had 
 refused, bluntly and with some venom, to provide 
 us with a guard, their inclination apparently 
 lying rather in the direction of plundering than 
 of protecting us. 
 
 "They not like you," Solomon went on, 
 " because they know you are English. So I tell 
 them you not English you Germans." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed my brother and I. 
 
 " I tell them," continued Solomon, as he 
 wearily passed a hand across his brow, " that 
 you great friends of the German Emperor, and 
 if somebody come and rob you, the people of 
 Endor be very sorry afterwards, because it make 
 the German Emperor angry against them." 
 
 "But, I say, Solomon," protested my as- 
 tounded brother, " we can't allow that sort of 
 thing, you know." It certainly was most 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 165 
 
 humiliating to have had that falsehood told on 
 our behalf a falsehood, by the way, which was 
 not only unpatriotic but foolish, since a Union 
 Jack fluttered from each of our tents. 
 
 " No matter is that," was Solomon's comment 
 when we mentioned the flags. " I make them 
 afraid, and after some more talk they send two 
 men to be soldiers for us. Ah ! " he added, 
 again stroking his forehead, " to-night I have 
 headache." Whereupon my brother, having 
 examined him narrowly and felt his pulse, 
 arrived at a conclusion which tended to explain 
 and excuse Solomon's deplorable diplomacy. 
 He was somewhat feverish ; so, having admon- 
 ished him to be more careful in future what 
 water he drank, we administered quinine and 
 ordered him to bed. 
 
 Nor was there any reason to doubt the sound- 
 ness of our treatment ; for, following a night 
 that was attended by no untoward incident, we 
 awoke next morning to find Solomon fully 
 restored to health. 
 
 After breakfast we set off to visit the cave, 
 and soon found that, whatever our nationality 
 was presumed to be, we were still out of public 
 favour. But the sour looks of those Endor folk 
 were quickly forgotten in the interest excited by 
 their cave a spacious and shapeless cavity in 
 the crust of the earth ; a rock-chamber of nature's 
 making. Having walked down the sloping 
 
1 66 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 pathway into the interior gloom, we looked back 
 at the huge, irregular entrance hole whence 
 came light and air. There was ample head 
 room. We trod the dust of ages worn from the 
 protruding rocks. 
 
 Penetrating to the end of the pathway, I 
 confronted the dim shimmer of water ; but how 
 far the pool extended, and what lay beyond, the 
 darkness prevented me from seeing. Meanwhile 
 my brother, his fancy taken by the patch of 
 blue sky framed by the rugged entrance, sat on 
 a boulder to sketch that effect ; and when, a 
 minute later, I turned from watching his pre- 
 parations to look again into the depths of the 
 cave, behold a transformation ! I could clearly 
 discern a wall of rock that lay beyond the sheet 
 of water. For my eyes, attuned to the gloom, 
 had now a keener perception than when I arrived 
 out of the powerful sunlight. 
 
 To test whether the photographic lens would 
 see what had at first been hidden from me, I set 
 my camera in a position to receive the image, 
 leaving it there for a liberal exposure. And 
 since my presence was not a necessary condition 
 of this experiment, I set off for a stroll in the 
 open air an example Solomon lost no time in 
 following. Outside the cave we found a number 
 of sulky villagers muttering together ; but, paying 
 no heed to them, we took our saunter in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
Entrance to Cave at Endor the 
 reputed Cave of the Witch 
 
 Harold Copping 
 
Amid Hostile Tribes 16) 
 
 The state of affairs to which we returned, 
 about ten minutes later, put the people of Endor 
 lower than ever in my estimation. It seemed 
 that, if they held aloof from the cave while all 
 three of us were there, their united courage was 
 equal to confronting a single stranger tem- 
 porarily cut off from his allies. So by twos and 
 threes they had swarmed into the cavern, to 
 squat around the artist and scoff, snarl, and 
 spit at him, while he went on quietly with 
 his work. 
 
 " But I'm glad you've come back, Solomon," 
 added my brother, as he put some finishing 
 touches to his sketch, "for I should like you 
 to ask them why they have been behaving in 
 this silly and undignified way." 
 
 "They say," explained the dragoman, after 
 making indignant inquiries, " that it a great 
 shame you come here to bewitch their spring." 
 
 Meanwhile I had been relieved to find that, 
 whatever they may have thought of my camera, 
 they had lacked the hardihood to kick it over. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 In Issachar 
 
 Nain A well surrounded by flowers "The soup of the shep- 
 herds" Aniseed and a hailstorm Eagles on Little Hermon 
 Insanitary Shunem Its inert inhabitants Inside a mud house 
 Making pastry with pease A line of hungry sparrows 
 Mount Gilboa Crossing the Plain of Esdraelon Jezreel and 
 its watch-tower Children, camels, and poultry A rainbow 
 across the blood-red earth Jenin Visit from a Turkish 
 official A medley of noises The refreshing incense of early 
 morning My horse's unrequested jump A warning and a bog 
 We nearly lose our horses "The Ditch of Joseph." 
 
 "D IDING from Endor, we saw in the lonely 
 " landscape a group of silent women gather- 
 ing tares. And soon we came to Nain. 
 
 Nestling amid palm-trees and hedges of 
 prickly pear, the well proved a beautiful old 
 arched piece of ruddy masonry. Water issued 
 along the groove of a projecting stone, and 
 above that, as though for ventilation, was a sort 
 of window. Through it I peered into damp 
 darkness. 
 
 All round the well a wild geranium grew 
 luxuriant. 
 
 "That," Solomon explained, "is soup of the 
 
 168 
 
In Issachar 
 
 169 
 
 shepherds. The flowers are cooked by the 
 Bedouins to make what you call tea. With 
 onions and sour lemons it very nice salad. 
 When there is famine all of the plant the 
 Bedouins eat. It very healthy for the chest." 
 
 Passing out of Nain, we were crossing a field 
 of aniseed 
 when there 
 burst upon 
 us a hail- 
 storm of 
 such fury 
 that, hasti- 
 ly d i s- 
 mounting 
 from our 
 frightened 
 horses, we 
 had all we 
 could do 
 to check a 
 stampede. 
 But ten 
 minutes 
 
 later the sun came out to dry our satura- 
 ted clothes ; and, pushing on, we were soon 
 skirting the base of Little Hermon a pleasant 
 eminence which, in the domain of natural history, 
 provided a disappointment. Solomon had en- 
 couraged us to expect glimpses of numerous 
 
170 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 gazelles ambling about the mountain slopes. 
 But the only creatures I saw up there were 
 several eagles perched on projecting rocks. 
 
 Approaching Shunem through a dainty cul- 
 tivated grove, we thought what a pretty village 
 it must be. But Shunem disappointed our eyes 
 and offended our noses. A dirty disorder of 
 mud hovels divided by pathways encumbered 
 by garbage that was what we saw and smelt. 
 Insanitary areas in the Western world are 
 necessarily associated with civilized architecture. 
 Shunem looked like a prehistoric slum. 
 
 And here we met one more distinct variety 
 of Palestine people. What the inhabitants of 
 Shunem appeared to lack was ambition. They 
 seemed stricken with inertia, as though life, 
 reduced to a dull round of dirt and laziness, 
 had lost all interest for them. Our arrival did 
 not serve to rouse them from their stupor. 
 A want of spirit obviously rendered them equally 
 incapable of Nazareth friendliness and Endor 
 hostility. 
 
 Now I came to think of it, we had our first 
 clue to the mental condition of that village 
 before we actually reached it. For, as we 
 approached the cultivated grove, a listless appeal 
 for baksheesh sounded in our ears, and, turning 
 our heads, we found that it came from two 
 untidy youngsters lying on the ground some 
 fifty yards away. Since neither of them moved, 
 
In Issachar 
 
 171 
 
 AN INTERIOR AT SHUNEM 
 
 it was clear that, if we were minded to grant 
 their petition, we must needs carry our offering 
 to them. 
 
 " They seem pretty cool young customers," 
 I said to Solomon. But he only shrugged his 
 shoulders, and told me about a drowning Arab 
 who, with his last gurgling words, demanded 
 baksheesh of the two Europeans who were 
 vainly striving to rescue him. 
 
 We made bold to enter one of the forbidding 
 dwellings, where we found, asquat on the floor, 
 two cats, one dog, and a woman. She smiled no 
 welcome, nor betrayed any resentment at our 
 intrusion. Replying in sluggish monosyllables 
 to Solomon's questions, she continued to pound 
 
172 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 pease in an earthenware vessel with a view, as 
 we learnt, to the making of pastry. If externally 
 the walls presented an uncouth aspect of dried 
 mud, they were lined evenly enough inside with 
 a surface of cement. 
 
 An interior so simple and primitive suggested 
 a deep interest. For this apartment could 
 scarcely be different, one supposed, from that 
 other chamber in Shunem where, years ago, a 
 faithful woman set a bed, and a table, and a stool, 
 and a candlestick, to serve the needs of Elisha. 
 
 From that sombre village I brought away 
 one bright memory. A flock of hungry-looking 
 sparrows alighted in a long line on a mud wall, 
 to address urgent chirpings to us as we went 
 by. It was the daintiest demand for baksheesh 
 that had happened on our travels ; and the 
 concessions we made from our luncheon parcels 
 met with a flutter of joyous appreciation. It 
 certainly was a point to the credit of Shunem 
 that its sparrows were so unafraid of man. 
 
 Gaining the sweet-smelling open country, we 
 descended to the place where dismayed Saul and 
 his people were overwhelmed in battle. Storm 
 clouds lowered over the gloomy heights of Mount 
 Gilboa, and the sky threw great shadows on the 
 Plain of Esdraelon, which stretched in drear 
 perspective to the limit of sight. We rode on 
 in silence and awe to find geography so impres- 
 sively in key with history. 
 
In Issachar 173 
 
 After a ride of some three miles on the level 
 ground, and having crossed the new railway 
 track, we mounted a gradual slope to Jezreel, 
 conspicuous afar off by reason of its one building 
 rising high above the others a fact startling to 
 the imagination. And, indeed, that modern 
 watch-tower of Jezreel may well be standing on 
 the old site. 
 
 A jumble of camels, poultry, and people per- 
 ambulating ground black and damp with dung 
 and dirt such was Jezreel. No less squalid 
 than Shunem, it was far more animated. The 
 adults regarded us with amused toleration, while 
 herds of children, running round our horses, cried 
 with one voice for baksheesh. We did not linger 
 in their midst, for the day was drawing to a close, 
 and, as Solomon anxiously pointed out, we were 
 still two hours' ride from our camp. 
 
 By another route we again descended into the 
 Plain, and behold ! the scene spoke once more 
 of the stricken army of Israel pursued by the 
 Philistine hosts. In that great arena the fancy 
 saw a lake of blood. For an expanse of the 
 ruddy earth, newly turned by the plough, was 
 bathed in crimson light from the sun that hung 
 low in the western sky. And suddenly we saw 
 the flat vista arched by a great, unbroken rain- 
 bow. The Plain of Esdraelon will ever live 
 in my mind as a theatre of vast and awful 
 effects. 
 
174 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 We rode into camp at Jenin when the warm 
 afterglow of sunset mingled with the pale 
 light of the moon. And now the spirit of all 
 things was changed, and we relapsed into homely 
 experiences. On a stretch of turf before our 
 tents, three little laughing Turkish boys I 
 precisely state a fact were playing hop, skip, 
 and jump. Fellow travellers had bivouacked, in 
 tents like ours, not a hundred yards away. Over 
 where the city lay, three graceful palm-trees 
 were nodding in the breeze. The voices of frogs 
 sounded in sustained chorus. And a fat Turkish 
 soldier came to examine our passports. 
 
 By pantomimic imitation of florid penmanship, 
 he showed a ready grasp of the nature of my 
 calling, the case of my brother presenting more 
 difficulty to the official mind. But it was on a 
 series of attempts to pronounce " Copping " that 
 our visitor concentrated his energies, he being 
 conscientiously bent on jotting down a phonetic 
 equivalent in Arabic. 
 
 I shall always remember Jenin for a night of 
 noises. Soldiers blowing whistles joined with 
 the splash of heavy rain to assist a din in which 
 braying asses, howling jackals, and the unceasing 
 frogs took part. And this was the greater hard- 
 ship for us since, because of the extent of country 
 to be traversed on the morrow, we had to break- 
 fast and be moving soon after sunrise. For, 
 under Solomon's arrangements, we were visiting 
 
In Issachar 175 
 
 Jenin merely for the advantage it afforded as a 
 camping ground : conditions suitable for sleep 
 being apparently deemed of less account than 
 the protection of soldiers. 
 
 But early rising brought its rich reward. 
 Wondrous pleasant we found it to be riding 
 through fair Issachar in the cool, sweet morning. 
 Purple and pale gold were the mountains, and 
 the air was perfumed with honey and flowers. 
 How young the day was we had droll reminder 
 in the aspect of a little owl that stood belated 
 on a stone by the wayside, blinking sleepily at so 
 much daylight. 
 
 My brother and I, not for the first time, broke 
 into a trot such was the practical proficiency we 
 had by this time acquired in the saddle. But 
 presently I was to perform a much more note- 
 worthy, if quite unintentional, feat of horse- 
 manship. 
 
 There being no definite track to restrict our 
 line of advance, I was somewhat apart from the 
 others on approaching a dry water-course of 
 some considerable width. Each bank had a 
 gradual slope, and that my horse would walk 
 down one bank and up the other was a 
 supposition to which I contemplated no alter- 
 native. What actually happened was this. 
 When we arrived at the first bank, my horse's 
 body straightened under me, a gust of air fanned 
 my temples, and we were on the other bank. 
 
176 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 I was still a prey to startled astonishment, not 
 yet fully realizing the exploit to which my 
 acrobatic quadruped had made me a party, when 
 Solomon rode up in hot haste to offer his 
 congratulations. 
 
 " Very fine you make your horse jump," was 
 his enthusiastic way of putting it. As a matter 
 of fact, my horse had made me jump, and in 
 more senses than one. 
 
 Since I am telling of things in the order of 
 their happening, that little episode of frivolous 
 panic now leads, by an incongruous transition, to 
 the story of a stern peril in which all four horses 
 and riders were involved. 
 
 We were on the Plain of Dotham when my 
 brother and I noted our two companions in 
 grave altercation. We wished to visit the spot 
 where Joseph was placed in the pit by his 
 brethren ; and Solomon had asked Mahomet if 
 he knew in which direction it lay. Thereupon 
 Mahomet, urging the wisdom of avoiding a risk, 
 had begged that we give up the idea of going 
 there. Cautious Solomon questioned him nar- 
 rowly, though without discovering the nature of 
 the peril referred to. Indeed, it became clear 
 that Mahomet did not himself know what it was. 
 He had heard there was a peril, that was all he 
 could say, and he begged that we would keep 
 away from the " Ditch of Joseph," as the place 
 was named by the Arabs. Repeating what he 
 
In Issachar 
 
 177 
 
 had heard, perplexed Solomon left the decision 
 to us. 
 
 My brother agreed with me in attaching 
 small importance to the vague fears of an un- 
 lettered Moslem, and so our decision was to 
 push on, coupled with an undertaking to come 
 back for Mahomet should he prefer not to share 
 in the adventure. After that, we all set off for 
 the Ditch of Joseph, our worthy muleteer taking 
 it upon himself to lead the way. For it seemed 
 that, some years before he heard evil of the 
 place, he went there with a party of travellers. 
 
 When within a couple of hundred yards of 
 the well for Mahomet pointed it out to 
 Solomon, who pointed it out to us we 
 
 " WE WERE SKIRTING A PLANTATION OF FRUIT TREES " 
 
 12 
 
178 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 happened upon soft ground. Riding in close 
 formation, we were skirting a plantation of fruit 
 trees. It was a beautiful scene of sheltered and 
 luxuriant vegetation. And, as I say, we chanced 
 to be treading wet earth an experience so 
 familiar as to excite no attention. 
 
 An appalling development came abruptly, and 
 the air suddenly rang with our shouts. Each 
 rider became aware that the other horses were 
 sinking. At least, my first knowledge merely 
 concerned the plight of my companions. But a 
 second later I realized, by the behaviour of my 
 own poor beast, that my case was not different 
 from theirs. We were all floundering in a bog. 
 
 The mind, the voice, the limbs how quick they 
 are to act in an emergency. By some imperious 
 instinct, here were all four of us most ener- 
 getically doing the right thing to be done when 
 one is sinking in a bog on horseback nay, not 
 merely doing it, but employing part of our 
 strength in exhorting each other to do the same. 
 
 " Keep going ! Don't stop, whatever you do ! 
 Bang away ! Stick to it ! Keep him moving ! " 
 
 As nearly as I afterwards remembered, those 
 were the wild words with which the two English- 
 men awoke the echoes. And the sense of the 
 shouting in Arabic was manifestly much the same. 
 
 I had, earlier in the morning, plucked a cane 
 of anise to serve me for a goad. With that I 
 rained blows on my struggling, panting, terrified 
 
In Issachar 179 
 
 steed. Solomon had the stout walking-stick his 
 right hand ever clutched. Mahomet, on the 
 heavily-burdened horse, swung the short length 
 of stout rope he was wont to use as a whip. My 
 brother had only his heels. 
 
 Since at each plunge forward our horses sank 
 high above their knees, we must on no account 
 suffer them to pause in their struggles. It was 
 horrible to hear the suction of the mud as they 
 extricated their limbs. 
 
 Of the extent of the bog we had no know- 
 ledge. A deeper stratum of yielding ground 
 might lie ahead ; yet go ahead we must as our 
 only chance of safety. To turn was impossible ; 
 a gentle bias either to right or left was the only 
 latitude allowed to discretion. 
 
 My brother and I were proceeding abreast, 
 only a few feet apart, with Solomon just ahead 
 of him, and with Mahomet, at a longer interval, 
 ahead of me. I took guidance by what befell the 
 muleteer. 
 
 He was a picture of delirious energy. At one 
 instant his case looked desperate, the horse 
 almost inextricable, the saddle-bags dipping into 
 the mire. But with whirling blows, and a roar 
 of admonition, he made the panting brute try 
 towards the left for a better foothold a ma- 
 noeuvre that turned out well. Inch by inch, he 
 won his way to firm ground. 
 
 Having my clue, I headed in the same 
 
180 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 direction, and with the same success. Solomon 
 meanwhile was forging to the right, and gaining 
 no advantage. Thus my brother, who had begun 
 by following the horse in front of him, was put 
 to some delay in amending his course. But he 
 joined Mahomet on hard earth ere Solomon 
 reached safety on the opposite side of the bog. 
 
 Physical peril, if stimulating enough while it 
 lasts, is somewhat sedative in its after-effects ; 
 and we were all in the key to be soothed by 
 the place we had wrestled with death to arrive 
 at. And, indeed, the Well of Dotham occurs 
 in as tranquil a scene as heart could desire, 
 with that luxuriant plantation of figs and apples 
 and apricots on one side, and, on the other, an 
 expanse of flowery land stretching to the visible 
 track which, throughout the centuries, has been 
 worn by the feet of merchants travelling between 
 Gilead and Egypt. 
 
 Leaving our bemired horses free to graze on 
 a stretch of new grass near at hand, we sat on 
 stones beside the Ditch of Joseph, which, instead 
 of assuming the form of a fountain, answered 
 to English notions of a well. For Western eyes, 
 however, there was an interesting innovation in 
 that the welling water flowed from the sunken 
 shaft into a semicircular stone horse-trough an 
 arrangement enabling cattle to quench their 
 thirst without polluting the main supply. The 
 overflow coursed over the ground to saturate 
 
In Issachar 181 
 
 the morass into which we had floundered. Thus 
 at the time of our visit there was an abundance 
 of water. But it was easy to conceive of natural 
 conditions exceptional drought, or an obstruc- 
 tion to the spring when a well, or pit, in that 
 situation might be dry. 
 
 While we tarried at that peaceful spot, three 
 women came there to fill their water-pots. Nor 
 did Solomon suffer them to depart unchallenged 
 by friendly jest and greeting. For some elation 
 is natural to a dragoman who has evaded so dire 
 a mischance as the loss of four valuable horses. 
 
 Meanwhile I had turned my attention to photo- 
 graphic possibilities suggested by the presence 
 of our smiling visitors a circumstance that did 
 not escape their notice. 
 
 "They say you must not make a picture of 
 them," Solomon interpreted, "because they are 
 poor people, so they not look pretty." 
 
 When he transmitted my reassuring, and 
 indeed complimentary, reply, those women made 
 haste to shake their heads. But it was easy to 
 see that they were pleased. 
 
 From the Plain of Dotham our journey lay 
 through many an ancient olive grove, and across 
 hills whereof the southern slopes were cut into 
 narrow terraces. Old, gnarled, leafless vines lay 
 here and there upon those stony pathways, 
 which rose tier upon tier in proof of the wide- 
 spread cultivation of grapes in years gone by. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Samaria 
 
 Paradoxical Sebastiyeh Architectural memorials of Herod the 
 Great Childish adults The traffic in antiquities Solomon the 
 virtuoso Interrupted excavations Tomb of John the Baptist 
 An undignified schoolmaster : his appeal for baksheesh A 
 civilized dinner amid barbaric surroundings Its disconcerting 
 sequel : a deadly snake under our rug Strange uproar in a 
 peaceful glen The quaint explanation Our encampment at 
 Shechem An embarrassed tobacconist Uses of the turban 
 The kissing child : ingenious method of securing baksheesh. 
 
 O AM ARIA known to-day as Sebastiyeh is 
 ^ one of the most astonishing, interesting, 
 and paradoxical places I have ever seen. More 
 vividly, 1 should think, than any other town 
 in the world, it shows the centuries reversed, 
 
 with all progress working backwards. For at 
 
 182 
 
Samaria 1 83 
 
 Samaria the rude barbarism of the present day- 
 is revealed in bewildering contrast to what I 
 am tempted to call the modern civilization of 
 a remote past. 
 
 Gradually mounting through disused vine- 
 yards, we came to level ground canopied by 
 venerable olive trees ; and, on emerging from 
 that thicket, we beheld something which, by 
 its startling incongruity with the surrounding 
 scene, held me speechless. Upstanding amid 
 the tangle of bushes were great stone columns, 
 stationed in a long line at orderly intervals 
 columns thrice as tall as a man, and of a circum- 
 ference one's two arms could only just embrace. 
 
 They were white, and therefore conspicuous 
 amid the jungle of greenery ; and, since time 
 had etched evenly into the enduring stone, they 
 remained of perfect symmetry. Gazing at that 
 perspective of some sixty columns, I chanced to 
 think of them as so much solid human property ; 
 which suggested the questions, To whom did 
 they now belong, and whose wealth had paid 
 for their erection ? Western scholarship returns 
 an assured answer, but it is an answer that sets 
 the mind reeling. 
 
 Augustus gave Samaria to Herod the Great, 
 who enriched it with superb architecture, in- 
 cluding a colonnade that adorned the principal 
 street of the city. We were looking at some 
 columns of that colonnade. 
 
184 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 In thinking of the enduring qualities of the 
 works of man, one is apt to measure possibilities 
 by such length of life as belongs to English 
 buildings of to-day. But here let those realize 
 the fact who can was masonry that had sur- 
 vived the hazards of war, tempests, and earth- 
 quake during many centuries. 
 
 Pushing on, we came in sight of Samaria, 
 or, rather, of two Samarias one a cluster of 
 spacious ruins, still bearing the stamp of archi- 
 tectural excellence ; the other modern, and built 
 largely of mud. Ascending to a grassy plateau, 
 we arrived at our camp, around which a goodly 
 company of Bedouins were clustered. 
 
 It grows, I fear, monotonous that I should 
 keep on recording variety in the population of 
 Palestine. But Samaria provided so distinctive 
 a class of inhabitants that I am tempted to 
 describe them in terms that negative each lead- 
 ing characteristic of the people we had seen 
 elsewhere. They were not hostile. They were 
 not dignified. They were not inert. They 
 were not intelligent. 
 
 Conceive a crowd of brown-skinned simple- 
 tons, dressed in rags and full of curiosity, who 
 will come clustering around you in a fever of 
 innocent excitement to see your camera, but who 
 will all run helter-skelter away if you so much 
 as say " Boo ! " to them. Such were the people 
 of Samaria. Apart from size, the only difference 
 
Samaria 
 
 185 
 
 between adults and children was that the former 
 seemed rather more childish than the latter. 
 Whichever way I went, I had a procession at 
 my heels all those docile eyes wide with eager 
 wonder. 
 
 From a little way off, I noticed Solomon 
 
 'UPSTANDING AMID THE TANGLE OF BUSHES WERE GREAT 
 STONE COLUMNS" 
 
 fetch a chair from our dining-tent, and sit down 
 to converse at ease with certain of Samaria's 
 citizens. The incident proved a great draw. 
 Full-grown men, their faces alight with enthu- 
 siasm, set off at top speed, in competition with 
 little children, to join the dense circumference 
 of human beings. As I afterwards learnt, 
 Solomon had but consented to see such portable 
 antiquities as were on offer. 
 
1 86 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Delving in the soil, and ransacking ancient 
 tombs, the Arabs necessarily happen occasionally 
 upon interesting relics of bygone civilizations. 
 At some places in Palestine they also do business 
 in imported counterfeits ; so that the traveller, 
 in making purchases, must needs be circum- 
 spect a point on which Solomon gave us 
 frequent cautions. It is, however, a fact, I 
 think, that he himself stood in greater need of 
 those warnings than we did. 
 
 My brother and I bought only such objects 
 as pleased us by their quaintness or beauty it 
 being a further condition of each purchase that 
 the price should be moderate, not to say 
 nominal; and therefore we ran small risk of 
 being wronged, since a beautiful thing is still 
 beautiful even though it be but a replica. 
 
 Solomon, on the other hand, being something 
 of a virtuoso, and having his brain ever on fire 
 with the hope of unique and priceless finds, 
 proved capable of paying substantial sums for 
 antiquities about which, on subsequent re- 
 examination, he came to have his doubts. Yet 
 presumably the collector, in this as in other 
 spheres, must set the occasional reward against 
 a constant risk. At least he has the excitement 
 of the hunt, even when spoils of the chase are 
 denied to him. 
 
 Of all the antiquities acquired on our travels 
 by Solomon, I should expect those he purchased 
 
Samaria 187 
 
 at Samarja to turn out best. Owing to local 
 conditions, genuine relics were more accessible 
 to the natives, it would almost seem, than 
 spurious substitutes could be. For one thing, 
 though on the site of an opulent city, where 
 many kings of Israel were believed to be buried, 
 Samaria had never until recently been subjected 
 to systematic excavation. And here let me say 
 incidentally that of the huge antiquities already 
 mentioned the Herod columns there seemed 
 no end. Many occurred on our camping-ground, 
 one stretching half across the floor of our sleep- 
 ing-apartment ; and those recumbent memorials 
 of the past, deeply embedded in the soil, hinted 
 at the wealth of rare relics that doubtless lay 
 deeper. 
 
 Of this buried treasure we had more definite 
 evidence when, on the morning following our 
 arrival, we were exploring Samaria. For we 
 came upon a great gaping pit newly dug to 
 a depth of a dozen feet or more. It seemed 
 there had been a recent local impulse to explore 
 below for the royal tombs of ancient Israel, it 
 being a reasonable surmise that each would 
 prove a repository of marketable rarities. But 
 the work, after reaching the stage at which we 
 found it, had been interrupted by order of the 
 Sultan, a stern message coming from Con- 
 stantinople that all subterranean exploration 
 must cease. 
 
1 88 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Ladders still remained standing in the shaft ; 
 so, while I stayed above to photograph the 
 scene, my brother descended into the roomy 
 cavity, where he found that the prohibition must 
 have come at a tantalizing moment for the 
 excavators, since they had already laid bare the 
 entrance to an ancient sepulchre. 
 
 We found many other matters to interest us 
 in Samaria. Descending into a moat-like area, 
 we entered the gigantic ruin of a church erected 
 by the Crusaders to mark the spot where, accord- 
 ing to a tradition which modern research does 
 not challenge, John the Baptist was buried. 
 Little remains but roofless walls adorned with 
 buttresses, arched windows, and doorways roof- 
 less walls that derive a further charm from the 
 roothold they afford to many shrubs and a 
 conspicuous little tree. 
 
 Wandering in paved courtyards open to the 
 sky, we came upon a small domed structure of 
 later date, and erected, it is supposed, over the 
 actual tomb of the Baptist. Here Solomort 
 also pointed out, on the authority of a local 
 guide, the graves of Elisha and Obadiah. 
 
 Ever and anon we heard the voices of many 
 children raised in unison a commotion to which 
 we had the clue when, on coming to a large 
 apse, we beheld a boys' school in full session. 
 The pupils with their slates sat upon low benches 
 that formed a square within the lines of the 
 
Samaria 
 
 189 
 
 "A GREAT GAPING PIT NEWLY DUG" 
 
 chamber, while in a central situation at the 
 back the schoolmaster was enthroned on a large 
 wooden chair before his desk a massive, bearded, 
 complacent man in picturesque blue gown and 
 white turban. Matting on the stone floor was 
 held in position by ponderous fragments of 
 masonry. Sunlight streamed into that spacious 
 vaulted recess, adding brightness to a homely 
 picture which suggested a dame's school of 
 Victorian England. 
 
 Our arrival, I am afraid, caused a sad inter- 
 
190 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 ruption to scholastic routine. But perhaps for 
 those grinning little Moslems there was a lesson 
 to be learnt, and one making for a wider con- 
 ception of humanity, by noting the behaviour 
 of their visitors. The two strangers from a 
 foreign land were crossing and recrossing the 
 classroom in quest of photographic points of 
 view ; while Solomon and the local guide sat 
 down unceremoniously on one of the trestled 
 planks that served as a table for certain of the 
 pupils. 
 
 Meanwhile the hospitable schoolmaster had 
 gone hurrying off to fetch us coffee ; and the 
 excitement with which, on his return, he espied 
 our cameras, and the alacrity with which he ran 
 to his chair to pose for the picture, revealed an 
 innocent and juvenile frame of mind not often to 
 be met with in a schoolmaster. 
 
 I did not find myself respecting this volatile 
 and pleasant-looking pedagogue, but one could 
 hardly fail to like him. To a teacher's character, 
 by the way, the faces of his pupils supply a good 
 index. Than those youngsters of Samaria, I 
 never saw a class that looked less cowed. On 
 the other hand, they did not seem very studious 
 or enlightened children. 
 
 When we were minded to be moving on, this 
 unusual schoolmaster, leaving his pupils to look 
 after themselves, insisted on coming with us. 
 Walking beside my brother and myself, he 
 
Samaria 191 
 
 proved very chatty (though unfortunately in 
 Arabic) ; and since he conducted us to the 
 mosque, and led the way to the top of its tower, 
 we were not altogether surprised to learn, in an 
 aside from Solomon, that this amiable man was 
 the priest as well as the schoolmaster. 
 
 From the minaret we gained a fine view of 
 our surroundings, and I secured a photograph of 
 modern Samaria as viewed from above. It 
 looked like what might be left of a citadel that 
 has undergone prolonged and severe bombard- 
 ment. Windows supplied the only suggestion 
 of constructive skill. For the rest, mud was 
 supplemented by rough, irregular pieces of stone 
 obviously the ancient city's contribution to the 
 modern village. A hooded structure on one of 
 the flat roofs was a Palestine bee-hive, made 
 with tubes of sun-dried mud. 
 
 When the time came for saying good-bye to 
 the priest, my brother and I received a shock. 
 For that great man extended his palm and 
 earnestly petitioned for " Baksheesh ! Bak- 
 sheesh ! " We gave him some, and he received 
 it with voluble gratitude. 
 
 No ; I could not respect the schoolmaster of 
 Samaria. But seldom have I encountered a 
 personality that interested me more. Here was 
 an entire village reflecting the individuality of 
 one man. And if those people showed no 
 symptom of intellectual culture, at least they 
 
192 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 were ingenuous and good-hearted, with minds un- 
 polluted by any poisonous antipathy to another 
 race and religion. The mildest and kindest of 
 barbarians that was the thought I had of them 
 as, running the gauntlet of their trustful, won- 
 dering eyes, we passed to our tents. 
 
 When my brother and I sat down to a four- 
 course luncheon, graced by snowy tablecloth, 
 gleaming glass, and shining silver, we marvelled 
 at the strange contrast our imported civilization 
 presented to the scene outside. How completely 
 were comfort and luxury secured within the 
 charmed circle of our crimson shelter ! With 
 such reflections we sipped the mild wine of 
 Mount Carmel, and lolled back at our ease. 
 But this complacency proved to repose on an 
 insecure foundation. 
 
 Since the camp had to move that afternoon, 
 the work of striking the tents was soon in hand. 
 When the table had been carried out, a muleteer 
 began to roll up the rug that had lain under our 
 feet. But on a sudden he shrank back, his cry 
 of alarm bringing Mahomet and Solomon quickly 
 to the scene. A snake had been concealed 
 beneath the rug. 
 
 " It's a killer ! It's a killer ! " shouted horrified 
 Solomon, as he made ready with his walking- 
 stick. And soon at his hands the venomous 
 thing lay dead. 
 
 Leaving Samaria behind us, we rode across 
 
>amana 
 
 m 
 
 lovely hills and dales where throve the olive, the 
 fig, and the pomegranate ; and at one time we 
 journeyed beside a rocky glen full of beauty and 
 peace and the song of birds. Instinctively my 
 brother and I paused, that our eyes might take 
 their fill of a delightful scene ; and, as we waited 
 
 SITE OF TOMB OF JOHN THE BAPTIST 
 
 and watched, the solitude was suddenly invaded 
 by a muffled uproar that came rumbling up from 
 one direction to awaken eerie echoes from the 
 other. We looked about us in bewilderment. 
 So far in our experience of Palestine the spirit of 
 placidity had everywhere reigned. What din 
 was this that assailed our hearing here, of all 
 13 
 
194 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 places, at a veritable shrine of peace and 
 repose ? 
 
 The disturbance grew to be distinguishable as 
 the strident and urgent shouting of men ; and 
 the next minute we were looking down at one 
 of the most grimly grotesque processions I ever 
 remember to have seen. It was a string of mules 
 and horses and donkeys, each animal supporting 
 a swaying heap of bundles, boxes, chairs, tables, 
 and I know not what. Two squatting men were 
 part of the luggage, while other men ran beside 
 and behind the heavily freighted beasts, assailing 
 them with expostulations, blows, and an occa- 
 sional stone. A company of robbers who had 
 despoiled a village and were fleeing with their 
 booty from avenging justice to me the affair 
 looked nothing less than that. 
 
 One of the fugitives, on looking upward, 
 obviously saw the two horsemen standing con- 
 spicuous against the sky. He waved his hand to 
 us ; and then, in a flash of understanding, we 
 recognised George the waiter, and our own 
 caravan. So this was what our beautiful camp 
 looked like when travelling along the road ! 
 Viewed from a new standpoint, our imported 
 Western civilization was not without a sugges- 
 tion of primitive barbarism after all. 
 
 We proceeded on our way in a chastened 
 spirit, marvelling not a little to have found 
 ourselves responsible if one traces effects to 
 
Samaria 195 
 
 their cause for the riot of noise that had been 
 to us so perplexing an enigma. 
 
 My brother and I, accompanied by Solomon 
 and Mahomet, were given to pauses on our 
 journey, and deviations from the direct route ; 
 nevertheless I was astounded when, an hour 
 later, we arrived at the outskirts of a populous 
 city, and found, on a broad area of turf, our 
 tents pegged into position, Simon busy over his 
 charcoal fire, and George already laying the cloth 
 for dinner. 
 
 Concerning Nablus (the ancient Shechem), 
 Solomon had warned us that we should not like 
 its people and they would not like us. But such 
 preliminary dealings as we had with them en- 
 couraged me to believe that he might prove 
 mistaken. Promptly upon our arrival, the 
 thoughtful dragoman made known my desire 
 for some tobacco ; and 1 had scarcely washed 
 the dust of travel from my hands when I turned 
 to find, at the opening of the tent, a bare- 
 headed, swarthy individual who, with much 
 bowing and smiling, extended a small white 
 parcel for my acceptance a parcel which, when 
 I undid the folded linen wrapper, proved to 
 contain a suitable sample of the commodity I 
 wished for. Having learnt beforehand from 
 Solomon what would be the probable price, I 
 tendered the necessary coins, which my visitor 
 accepted without demur and duly pocketed ; 
 
196 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 whereupon I readjusted the wrapper about my 
 purchase and put it in my travelling-trunk. 
 
 But the obliging local tradesman did not take 
 his departure. In a flutter of embarrassment, 
 he entered upon some voluble Arabic explana- 
 tions of which I failed to catch the drift. 
 
 At first I feared he must be dissatisfied with 
 his payment. But no ; on my testing the matter 
 by producing some money, he shook his head 
 and pointed eagerly to the travelling- trunk. 
 Having sold me the tobacco, he apparently 
 wanted it back ! The situation was quite beyond 
 me, so I went and fetched Solomon, whose 
 explanation of the mystery was attended by 
 more chuckling than the occasion seemed to 
 warrant. It appeared that I had bought only 
 the tobacco ; it was desired that I would kindly 
 return the wrapper. 
 
 After I had done so, it was my turn to feel 
 embarrassed ; for, having received the white strip, 
 the tobacconist carefully smoothed its creases and 
 wound it about his brows. 
 
 I do hope he quite understood that I had not 
 knowingly endeavoured to despoil him of his 
 turban. After his kindness in pressing it into 
 my service, that would indeed have been an un- 
 generous attempt at sharp practice. However, 
 as I was comforted to notice, his manner of de- 
 parture hinted at relief rather than resentment. 
 
 Meanwhile I found myself entertaining a 
 
Samaria 197 
 
 growing respect for Eastern headgear, which, un- 
 like the Western billycock, was clearly capable, 
 at the hands of a resourceful wearer, of serving 
 many auxiliary purposes. I did not forget the 
 part played by the turban in my descent of the 
 Great Pyramid. 
 
 My second human experience at Nablus, like 
 my first, scarce tended to confirm the harsh 
 judgment Solomon had passed on the population. 
 I was seated on a stool some little way from our 
 tents, when a pretty child toddled up to me, 
 climbed upon my lap, and, putting her tiny arms 
 about my neck, gave me a warm, delicious kiss. 
 
 The spontaneous caress of innocent childhood 
 is, I think, the most flattering mark of confidence 
 a man can receive ; and that this winsome mite 
 should have singled me out for her favours set 
 my heart, I confess, in a flutter of pleasure. 
 
 Following a natural impulse, I gave her 
 something to buy sweets with which led to 
 gratifying proof of my pet's intelligence. Instead 
 of putting the coins in her mouth, or holding 
 them in the unreliable custody of a chubby fist, 
 she solemnly deposited them in the pocket of her 
 pinafore. Then, to my regret, she slipped off my 
 lap and toddled away. 
 
 I am not, I hope, of a jealous disposition. 
 Yet I must confess to a feeling of disappoint- 
 ment at what now befell. Chancing at that 
 moment to emerge from our sleeping-tent, my 
 
198 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 brother not only met my little darling, but was 
 attracted by the sweet appeal of her upturned face. 
 
 I saw him stoop to pat her cheek, and then 
 could I believe my eyes ? she put her arms 
 round his neck and kissed him. But the co- 
 incidence went farther. For my beaming brother 
 had recourse to the same method of pleasing the 
 little one that I had adopted ; his gift joining 
 mine. I have but to add that my disappoint- 
 ment gave place to sheer disillusionment when, 
 a minute later, that affectionate infant was 
 kissing a muleteer a dirty, unshaven, blear-eyed 
 muleteer. 
 
 She was, I suppose, the bread-winner of the 
 family. At any rate, the man who afterwards 
 joined her and who, having carefully picked the 
 pinafore pocket, carried her off on his shoulder 
 had not the look of a strenuous toiler. 
 
View from Jacob's Well. 
 
 Harold Copping. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Russian Pilgrims 
 
 Die Samaritans Visit from the High Priest's son Narrow-minded 
 Nablus Solomon's missing tobacco-box He consigns two boys 
 to prison A disconcerting discovery In the Vale of Shechem 
 Gerizim and Ebal At Jacob's Well On the Plain of 
 Lubban A mile of Russian pilgrims Siberian furs in Pales- 
 tine sunshine Teapots and simplicity The old woman's 
 accident Unseen singers in the wilderness Lamentable con- 
 dition of the pilgrims Bethel under a blue sky First sight ot 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 "I^TABLUS has a population of 20,000 souls, 
 * ^ including the pathetic remnant of that 
 people who, originating from the ancient Israel- 
 ites, have survived through the centuries as a 
 race distinct from the Jews. There are about as 
 many Samaritans in Nablus as of Herod columns 
 in Samaria. O most awe-inspiring links with 
 the past these of human flesh, those of enduring 
 stone. 
 
 When we had dined, soon after arriving at 
 the city that once was Shechem, Solomon 
 ushered into our tent a tall, thin man with a 
 black beard and a countenance lacking in ani- 
 mation. He was, we learnt, a son of the High 
 
 199 
 
200 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Priest of the Samaritans a visitor, therefore, 
 who commanded in the abstract our warm 
 interest. Yet I can but reveal him to my 
 readers in the light of the little human weakness 
 by which he revealed himself to us. 
 
 Returning only perfunctory monosyllables to 
 the overtures of friendly courtesy we tendered 
 through our interpreter, he busied himself with 
 a paper parcel, whence he drew small cards on 
 which a portrait of his father was reproduced. 
 These he submitted to our scrutiny, exclaiming 
 " Franc ! franc ! " by way of indicating the price 
 at which he was offering his goods for sale a 
 price, by the way, which approximately repre- 
 sented the rate per thousand at which an 
 English jobbing printer would be glad to turn 
 them out. 
 
 My brother bought a copy, surrendering a 
 quarter midjidie (or the rough equivalent of 
 lOd.) in payment. But good intentions woe- 
 fully missed their reward. The face of the son 
 of the High Priest was no longer expressionless. 
 It had become a mirror of frowning displeasure ; 
 nor could we be deaf to a fretful ring in the 
 Arabic mutterings that accompanied his labour 
 of doing up the parcel. 
 
 " What is he looking so black about ? " my 
 astonished brother asked. 
 
 Solomon shrugged his philosophical shoulders, 
 and explained : " He say he not take the trouble 
 
Russian Pilgrims 201 
 
 to come if he know he only sell one card." And 
 thus, however much our visitor had interested 
 us on his arrival, he denied us occasion to feel 
 regret at his departure. 
 
 Next day we walked through Nablus un- 
 doubtedly a fine city ; but I did not like it. 
 True, the eye was pleased by colour effects and 
 by noble buildings and some beautiful old arch- 
 ways. True, again, we went over the superb 
 English hospital and saw corridors of ailing 
 Moslems under the healing influence of Christian 
 kindness and Western science. 
 
 But Solomon's prophecy came true : because 
 that large busy population of Mohammedans did 
 not like me, I did not like them. Here and 
 there in the streets they spat at us ; which is so 
 pitiable a thing to do, and argues a mind so 
 lacking in intelligence and culture, that Nablus 
 is a city I take no pleasure in remembering. 
 
 But while my disapproval of the people applied 
 only to those we met within the city, Solomon's 
 distrust also embraced those who visited us on 
 our camping-ground. In particular was his ire 
 inflamed against a group of boys who hovered 
 around the tents, though they did so in a spirit 
 of playfulness and curiosity, as I thought, rather 
 than with any felonious intent. 
 
 Nor had anything happened to cause me to 
 modify this opinion when, shortly before noon, 
 we mounted our horses and departed from 
 
202 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Nablus. Now, naturally, all thought of the 
 youngsters quickly passed out of my mind. 
 But when we had been half an hour upon the 
 road, the question of their morals once more 
 arose. Searching his pockets in a panic, Solomon 
 proclaimed the loss of his tin tobacco-box a 
 possession he had prized so greatly that there 
 were no bounds to his anger against the Nablus 
 youths, of whose guilt in the matter he refused 
 to entertain a doubt. 
 
 Following so pat upon his misgivings, there 
 certainly seemed some sort of prima facie case 
 against those boys ; but, as my brother and I 
 pointed out, suspicion was not proof, and of 
 evidence there was none. Brushing aside these 
 niceties of Western jurisprudence, wrathful 
 Solomon eagerly invited our co-operation on 
 these lines : 
 
 " If you stay here, Mahomet give you your 
 lunch while quickly I am gone again to Nablus. 
 You not waste any time, because I come back 
 before you finish your lunch." 
 
 "We shall be only too pleased, of course," 
 said my brother. "But I'm afraid you will have 
 your trouble for nothing." 
 
 " The Turkish soldiers yes, I go to them," 
 exclaimed Solomon, following his own line of 
 thought. " They listen to what I say." And 
 the next minute, having slewed round, he was 
 galloping back along the road we had traversed 
 
Russian Pilgrims 203 
 
 at a walking pace, the rapidly receding horse- 
 man affording a stirring symbol of swift-footed 
 justice. 
 
 And, sure enough, by the time we had finished 
 our repast, Solomon came careering back ; and 
 as he drew rein I noted that, whereas his face 
 was empurpled and angry when he departed, he 
 returned with bright eyes and the firm jaw of a 
 man who has received satisfaction. 
 
 "Did you get it back?" was our first 
 question. 
 
 " No," said Solomon, '* they not tell us where 
 they hide it. But three boys we catch, and the 
 soldiers beat them, and put them in prison." 
 
 At which tidings my brother and I were no 
 less amazed than horrified. Accustomed to 
 cautious deliberation in the administration of 
 the criminal law, with trial by jury, and courts 
 of appeal as further safeguards, we found our 
 Western instincts in revolt against this expe- 
 ditious Eastern method of squeezing capture, 
 examination, and punishment into the space of 
 a mere luncheon interval a method which, as 
 it seemed to us, left avenues for the miscarriage 
 of justice. However, nothing availed to shake 
 Solomon's conviction that retribution had fallen 
 upon the guilty parties nothing, at least, but 
 the subsequent discovery, which he made with 
 great delight, that he had not lost his tobacco- 
 box after all, it being in the revolver pocket 
 
204 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 of his breeches, where he now remembered to 
 have placed it. 
 
 Of course we told him that, even if it meant 
 a day's delay in our travels, he must return 
 post-haste to Nablus and see to the release 
 and compensation of the youthful victims of 
 his mistake. This course, however, he stoutly 
 refused to take, alleging that, if innocent of the 
 particular offence he had laid to their charge, 
 they were sure to deserve punishment on other 
 grounds, and that in any case a little discipline 
 was good for boys. 
 
 We pressed our view with some persistence ; 
 but, while indicating a readiness to take instruc- 
 tions from us on all matters affecting ourselves, 
 Solomon claimed the right to order his personal 
 affairs by the light of his own judgment. And 
 there, I am sorry to say, the matter was left. 
 
 Meanwhile we had been traversing a region 
 beautiful in itself and rich with an accumulation 
 of sacred interests. As we passed down the 
 Vale of Sbechem, we turned again and yet again 
 to gaze at the grey -green heights of Gerizim 
 and Ebal Mount of Blessing and Mount of 
 Cursing. 
 
 We paused awhile at Jacob's Well. Entering 
 a square area of raised ground margined by a 
 low wall, we descended into a vault full of 
 shadows and solemnity. It was some time before 
 our eyes could discern objects in the dim light. 
 
Russian Pilgrims 
 
 205 
 
 Then we 
 saw project- 
 ing masonry 
 furnished as 
 an altar with 
 candles, 
 cloths, and 
 censers. In 
 the middle 
 of the cham- 
 ber was an 
 ancient time- 
 worn stone 
 having a 
 large circular 
 aperture that 
 opened down 
 into the darkness of the earth. With a long 
 exposure, I took a photograph of that old stone, 
 which, according to the inherited knowledge of 
 Christians, Jews, and Mohammedans, marks 
 the mouth of the veritable Jacob's Well. 
 
 Our afternoon ride took us across large areas 
 of level ground hemmed about by brown moun- 
 tains. In one of those expanses, when we had 
 gone the length of it, we found our encampment. 
 This was the Plain of Lubban ; and the village 
 of that name generally identified with Lebonah 
 was, Solomon said, close at hand. But for 
 once our tents were free of visitors. Whichever 
 
 "AN ANCIENT TIME-WORN STONE' 
 
206 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 way I looked, there was no man, or dwelling, or 
 beast, nor any sign thereof. The eye swept 
 back over the route we had traversed a mile 
 of plain encompassed by the gentle-sloping up- 
 lands that vast amphitheatre being one un- 
 interrupted solitude. And next morning, when 
 I emerged from our sleeping- tent, those overnight 
 impressions were renewed. Never had our little 
 party seemed so utterly alone in the wilderness. 
 
 I was still looking at that empty, silent land- 
 scape, when suddenly my eyes saw something 
 that was so unexpected, and so sharply in 
 contrast with the spirit of the scene, that I 
 stood amazed. But the jagged black line that 
 had emerged through the distant defile, and 
 was stretching towards us in a continuous 
 increase of length, could mean but one thing. 
 Hundreds of human beings were pouring into 
 my solitude. 
 
 Soon we all were looking, my brother and 
 myself lending an eager ear to Solomon's ex- 
 planations : 
 
 " Plenty poor Russians you see. I hear they 
 make pilgrimage this month to the Holy 
 Sepulchre. Another party come here two years 
 ago. They hire a ship to bring them, and all of 
 them squeeze tight into the ship five hundred, 
 six hundred, eight hundred, I cannot say. I 
 not like to be one of them, for they not have 
 much room to lie down or wash themselves. 
 
PQ 
 
 * 
 
Russian Pilgrims 207 
 
 But they not mind that. They very ignorant 
 people a great lot of superstition is taught to 
 them in their country. All their life they save 
 money to bring with them. They put their 
 money into their boots so they not lose it, and 
 when they get to the Holy Sepulchre they give 
 it to the Greek Church priest, who write down 
 their name in a book. After that they go back 
 to their own country very happy, because the 
 priest tell them they get to heaven all right when 
 they die." 
 
 What for long held my attention was the 
 number of our visitors. The black line extended 
 to a quarter of a mile ; it went on growing to 
 double that length ; still it stretched out until 
 three-quarters of a mile must have been the 
 measure but not yet was the end in sight. It 
 was fascinating to watch that column coming 
 nearer, while far away it continued to emerge 
 through the mountain pass. Not until the head 
 of the # procession was close upon us did I at last 
 see the tail. Thus from end to end of the Plain 
 of Lubban the black line extended a mile of 
 pilgrims. 
 
 Now the foremost of those people were passing 
 within a few yards of where we stood, and pro- 
 viding one of the most impressive and pathetic 
 spectacles my eyes have ever looked upon. 
 
 Processions are identified in one's mind with 
 uniforms, orderly marching, and perhaps some 
 
208 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 accompanying music. This procession was de- 
 ficient in all such features of pageantry. It was 
 mainly composed of old men and old women, all 
 being clad in fitness for Siberian snows. The 
 women's thick woollen dresses, cross-gartered 
 stockings, and stout boots, the men's heavy 
 overcoats, astrachan caps, and great felt hats, 
 the bundles and wraps slung upon their backs 
 or coiled around their bodies these were woeful 
 accessories for a pilgrimage in hot Palestine. 
 
 But the strangest feature of their equipment 
 has yet to be mentioned. With the right hand 
 wielding a staff to help them on their way, the 
 men for the most part carried a teapot in the 
 other hand. This hinted at apparently the one 
 creature comfort they had brought with them. 
 They had no tents, no bedding, and, as we were 
 to learn, only a meagre provision of stale Russian 
 bread. But they had brought their teapots. 
 And many of those stout old women had brought 
 their stout old umbrellas, on which most 01 them 
 leaned for support as they trudged along the 
 plain, while others held them aloft and open as a 
 protection against the glare of the sun. 
 
 But it was the kitchen utensils those shining 
 symbols of a national taste that held my 
 attention. You may journey from one end of 
 England to the other without meeting a man 
 carrying a naked teapot. And here were 
 hundreds of Russians travelling through a 
 
Russian Pilgrims 
 
 209 
 
 strange land far from home, and doing that 
 thing. One might have thought the teapots 
 
 A MILE OF RUSSIAN PILGRIMS 
 
 could be stowed away with other belongings in 
 
 the bundles. But no ; they were the one 
 
 possession that must be carefully carried by hand. 
 
 I liked the resolute way those old wives and 
 
 14 
 
210 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 greybeards came trudging along. One instance 
 of individual pluck particularly appealed to me. 
 In that procession of pedestrians a little donkey 
 figured conspicuous, with a stout and elderly 
 dame upon its back ; it being a natural inference 
 that, the old lady having gone lame, means of 
 transportation had become necessary. 
 
 Owing to the heat, she perchance had fallen 
 into a doze. At any rate, when within a stone's 
 throw of our tents, she fell off the donkey an 
 incident that caused a momentary stir among 
 sympathetic compatriots. But three pairs of 
 strong arms picked up the old soul now quite 
 awake, and smiling apologetically and hoisted 
 her back into the saddle ; the little donkey then 
 proceeding on its way, apparently refreshed by 
 its brief holiday. 
 
 Those Russian peasants might be superstitious 
 and unenlightened as, by our standards, no 
 doubt they were but such shortcomings were 
 more than counterbalanced by the obvious 
 simplicity of nature and kindness of heart that 
 distinguished them. The frank and fraternal 
 smiles they gave us were convincing certificates 
 to character. Here and there one of the veterans 
 stepped across to us and, doffing his cap, asked 
 for bread or so, at least, we interpreted the 
 petition. This caused us a little embarrass- 
 ment. To give to some would scarce have been 
 fair to the others ; and though I was ashamed of 
 
Russian Pilgrims 211 
 
 
 
 the way our pampered luxury compared with 
 
 their deficiencies, we could not invite eight 
 hundred guests to breakfast. And so we gently 
 shook our heads. 
 
 Some of their boots were tied with string. 
 Here and there an old fellow's trousers bore a 
 conspicuous patch. In that scattered multitude 
 I saw two men whose medals and military caps 
 marked them out as soldiers. The last of that 
 long procession was a bent old woman who, 
 with the aid of a stout walking-stick, was 
 trudging along as cheerfully as any. 
 
 Half a mile ahead of us they settled down to 
 break their fast, making a broad black patch on 
 the side of a mountain. Soon we saw the smoke 
 of their fires ; and it was pleasant to think of all 
 those stout-hearted old folk enjoying their rest 
 and their tea. 
 
 When the time came for us to take our 
 departure, we advanced by an alternative route, 
 and so did not pass the pilgrims at close quarters. 
 Under a peerless blue sky, we spent the morning 
 mounting barren heights, gingerly descending 
 dry water-courses strewn with boulders, passing 
 along deep gorges overhung with crumbling 
 rocks a country of majestic desolation. 
 
 Midday found us on a terrace track that oc- 
 curred half-way up a precipitous slope ; and 
 there, having tethered our horses to some tree 
 trunks, we sat on mossy rocks to take our 
 
in A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 luncheon. Nor had we commenced our meal 
 before we heard the music of many human 
 voices raised in song, it filling us with wonder 
 to hear those pleasant cadences in the wilder- 
 ness. But the mystery was solved when we 
 saw the Russian pilgrims trudge into view on 
 the level ground below. They were singing 
 hymns. And we saw many cross themselves 
 as they turned their faces towards the sky. 
 
 By these new manifestations of a reverent 
 spirit, the old folk strengthened their claim to 
 our esteem. But, alas, there is more to tell. 
 
 By a coincidence, the pilgrims chose that 
 situation for their halting ground, and so it 
 came to pass that, while we four were eating 
 our lunch up above, those hundreds were simi- 
 larly engaged down below. They sat in a 
 dense cluster that stretched far away to right 
 and left. And there was this difference be- 
 tween those Russians and ourselves ; while we 
 had a full view of them, they obviously had 
 not noticed us. A further inequality was in- 
 volved in the shorter time they took over their 
 simple food than we devoted to our more 
 elaborate repast. Wherefore it came about that 
 we were still eating and drinking when they 
 had given themselves up to another occupation. 
 
 My brother had just peered over the side 
 when, abruptly withdrawing his head, he ex- 
 claimed in disgust : 
 
Russian Pilgrims 213 
 
 " Don't on any account look down again yet, 
 or you won't want another mouthful." 
 
 Nor did he exaggerate the penalty I paid for 
 my immediate curiosity. Within our view was 
 a sickening sight, which brought to mind the 
 case of monkeys. With garments partially 
 loosened, those poor afflicted pilgrims were busy 
 ridding themselves of vermin. Solomon it is 
 but fair to add was disposed to shift respon- 
 sibility from Russian to Palestine shoulders. 
 He thought that those travellers, lacking tents, 
 would be likely under local guidance to take 
 shelter for the night in caves often occupied by 
 Bedouins, whose deplorable personal condition 
 was a matter of notoriety. On the other hand, 
 the pilgrims were doing this thing with a horrid 
 complacency which, it seemed to me, argued 
 use. But whatever the truth of the matter, we 
 lost no time in riding away. 
 
 Our route lay at first through beautiful glens. 
 But the landscape came to be more rugged and 
 rocky the farther we advanced, with vegetation 
 dwindling to straggling brown patches. We 
 found our encampment at Bethel, which stands 
 high among the hills, surrounded by a chaos of 
 stony sceneiy. The sky above was deepest blue. 
 
 Without a word, Solomon pointed to the 
 south, where we descried the clustering build- 
 ings of a city far away. 
 
 It was Jerusalem. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 Jerusalem 
 
 Eloquent rocks Arrival at Jerusalem Greetings from tourists 
 A broken spell We part from our horses The hotel point of 
 view Discordant revelry Visiting the bazaars The Pool of 
 Hezekiah In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre A stone 
 worn by kisses Weeping pilgrims : a thrilling scene Jews at 
 their Wailing Place The Mount of Olives In the Haram 
 enclosure A marvellous system of water storage The site of 
 the Temple Palatial shrines of Islam The Holy Rock 
 Zion The Garden of Gethsemane Lepers and venerable 
 beggars Calvary. 
 
 "O IDING from Bethel, we had further ex- 
 
 "-^ perience of a hilly country strewn with 
 
 stones and formed of rocks. Because of their 
 
 dress of living green, most landscapes look 
 
 bright and moist and modern. This landscape 
 
 looked brown and dry and old. Yet it did not 
 
 affect one with a sense of sadness and desolation. 
 
 Those parched hills of Judaea have their own 
 
 stern stamp of beauty a beauty not alone of 
 
 form and colour. They are full of the poetry 
 
 of exalted associations. 
 
 We were nearing Jerusalem. We were 
 
 214 
 
Jerusalem 215 
 
 moving along the track which, in all ages, has 
 been the natural avenue between Galilee and 
 the Holy City. Of that there was confirmation 
 in the aspect of the rocks underfoot. Where 
 the track crossed them they had been worn by 
 the succession of footfalls that has continued 
 down the centuries worn to a depression and 
 worn to a polish. Between the present and the 
 past, could there be a physical link more 
 intimate and exact ? Of a surety, the feet of 
 Jesus have trodden those same rocks. 
 
 Anon the character of our surroundings 
 changed. We were upon an actual road a 
 broad, even, solid road. To the right was a 
 stretch of pastoral land, where we came upon 
 a herd of goats. Farther on we saw a herd of 
 sheep. Still a little way farther and we met 
 a company of men and camels. 
 
 At a bend in the road, our view to the left 
 was unobstructed, and there, close at hand, 
 beyond a stretch of open land, lay a grey city 
 of walls, turrets, and domes, in close association 
 with an isolated tower of a glaring blue that 
 offended the eye. 
 
 The foreground contained tourists. I use 
 that word advisedly. Nor will I speak of them 
 as fellow-tourists ; for my brother and I, by this 
 time, were untidy enough to rank as travellers. 
 We first met two charmingly dressed English 
 ladies on donkeys, attended by a well-groomed 
 
216 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 elderly English gentleman on horseback an 
 Englishman with an iron-grey moustache ex- 
 quisitely curled. He drew our attention to the 
 fact that it was a beautiful afternoon. A 
 minute later we had that information emphati- 
 cally confirmed by two Americans seated on 
 mules. 
 
 Please do not suppose that I object to charm- 
 ingly dressed ladies, aristocratic Englishmen, and 
 cocksure Americans. The case is quite other- 
 wise. But they did not assist me to realize 
 that I had arrived at Jerusalem. Somehow they 
 broke a spell that had held me since, fourteen 
 days before, we set out from Haifa. 
 
 There were plenty of other persons in sight. 
 The wilderness and primitive Palestine had 
 become but a memory. As we rode down to 
 the Damascus Gate I had already begun to 
 think of Jerusalem as the word does not 
 exaggerate my disillusionment a metropolis. 
 
 Having entered the bustling city, we passed 
 along a street of shops. Let it not be supposed 
 that I write in bitterness ; they were unmis- 
 takable shops not bazaars. And presently we 
 came to Cook's office, where we surrendered our 
 horses. 
 
 Humbly I patted my beast good-bye. Our 
 parting was like the end of a dream a dream 
 in which, by that fine creature's agency, I had 
 moved for many days through a beautiful 
 
Jerusalem 217 
 
 wonderland of long ago. Now I was back again 
 in the modern world ; and henceforth I should 
 go about on foot in the old familiar way. 
 
 Once inside the hotel, the idea that we were 
 at Jerusalem, or anywhere else in Palestine, 
 became unthinkable. The people in the lounge 
 were downright Londoners, there were anti- 
 macassars on the chairs, and The Daily Mail 
 and Bradshaw lay on a side-table. 
 
 Chatting at dinner with several elderly ladies, 
 I made an interesting discovery, namely, that 
 they believed they were at Jerusalem. And 
 Jerusalem, I gathered, was a place where people 
 visit certain sights with tiresome dragomans. 
 To do the place thoroughly, it seemed, required 
 two full days. But I was warned that I should 
 probably be disappointed in Jerusalem. Of 
 course as one lady informed me in a tone of 
 severity Jerusalem had very solemn associa- 
 tions ; but after London and Paris, and even 
 Cairo, I must be prepared to find it sadly 
 behind the times. 
 
 Dinner over, my brother and I escaped into 
 the open air. A heavy gloom brooded over the 
 city, and but few persons were astir in the 
 streets. Yet to one centre of life we could not 
 shut our eyes and ears a house whence came 
 a shrill clamour of music, singing, and laughter. 
 
 Up a few steps in the frontage, standing in 
 glaring lamplight, was a man who beat a drum 
 
2i 8 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 and shouted, to invite persons into his little 
 squalid-looking music-hall. After what the ladies 
 had said, this place figured in my imagination 
 as modern Jerusalem's attempt to keep abreast 
 of the times ; and, returning to our hotel, we 
 took our candles and went sorrowfully to bed. 
 
 I have said the worst I have to say. More- 
 over, the discerning reader will not fail to note 
 that these first impressions were affected by a 
 sense of contrast and reaction. Yet something 
 of our disappointment must be felt by all sensi- 
 tive visitors to Jerusalem ; and since the range 
 of most visitors has unfortunately been hitherto 
 restricted to that city and its neighbourhood, 
 here we find the explanation of current testi- 
 mony which, as I have earlier deplored, fails to 
 credit the Holy Land with its rare beauties and 
 haunting charm. 
 
 It served in some measure to revive our spirits, 
 and mend the broken thread of a glorious ex- 
 perience, that next morning we found Solomon 
 awaiting us at the door of the hotel, even 
 though he was now a Solomon on foot, with 
 his toilet brushed and smartened under urban 
 influence. With him we set out to explore 
 Jerusalem. And here I must risk the inference 
 of hasty readers that I speak with two voices 
 about the most interesting city in the world. 
 
 We passed through beautiful time-worn gate- 
 ways into narrow bazaars hung with rich apparel 
 
BEGGARS AT JERUSALEM 
 
 219 
 
220 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 and full of venerable Jews with wagging beards 
 a region where at every turn we had new vistas 
 of grand old archways deep in shadow, with 
 the sunshine gleaming on white walls beyond. 
 We penetrated to the poorest Moslem quarter, 
 where, in humble dwellings of spotless cleanli- 
 ness, women kissed our hands on receiving 
 unsought alms. 
 
 Has the reader ever formed a mental picture 
 of the Pool of Hezekiah ? I had not. In cities 
 of Holland one has seen houses backing upon 
 a canal, with projecting windows overhanging 
 the water, which laps the walls below. Conceive 
 that effect on all four sides of a rectangular 
 area 240 feet by 144 and you know what the 
 Pool of Hezekiah looks like. Solomon took us 
 through an arched passage to gain our view of 
 that open reservoir imprisoned by buildings. 
 The water looked very dirty. 
 
 We went to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 But this was to isolate ourselves temporarily 
 from the glorious memories with which Jeru- 
 salem exalts the mind. I hope I shall not be 
 thought to pass judgment on those who origi- 
 nated, or those who sustain, the pretensions of 
 that church. And, indeed, I am nowise quali- 
 fied by any right of personal scholarship or re- 
 search to take sides on debatable questions of 
 sacred archaeology. But in that church one 
 is shown sites and relics of which the genuine- 
 
Jerusalem in 
 
 ness is, as a matter of common knowledge, 
 denied by authoritative persons. 
 
 Scepticism in such matters prevents rever 
 ence nay, provokes resentment. For in pro- 
 portion as one would be awed by the true, one 
 is offended by the false. And here was even 
 our dragoman shrugging his shoulders as, passing 
 from shrine to shrine, from chapel to chapel, he 
 told of the specific claim that each represented. 
 
 There must be, I am sure, minds with a 
 sympathetic range capable of embracing a clearer 
 understanding of these matters than is possible 
 to me, who am ruled by the thought that there 
 can be no room in religion, as there should be 
 no room in politics or the arts, for any conscious 
 deviation from truth from pure, brave truth. 
 The best explanation I can guess at is that the 
 Greek and Latin Churches, concerned more for 
 the spiritual than for the intellectual advance- 
 ment of mankind, hold themselves justified in 
 offering symbolism under a guise of realism. 
 And it came about that, during our stay in the 
 church, we were to witness a remarkable scene 
 which illustrated, and in no unfavourable light, 
 the working of an ecclesiastical system which 
 1 may or may not have correctly interpreted. 
 Retracing our steps through the building, we 
 had returned within sight of the domed structure 
 of white and yellow stone, enriched with columns 
 and pilasters, that contained the little low- 
 
222 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 pitched vault where, in the effulgence of forty- 
 three gold and silver lamps, we had seen the 
 cracked marble slab that is said to cover the 
 actual rock on which the body of Jesus lay 
 a marble slab that has been visibly worn by the 
 soft pressure of countless pilgrim kisses. 
 
 In contrast with the stillness that reigned in 
 that shrine when we were there, was the con- 
 fusion of muffled sounds now issuing from it. 
 Drawing near with instinctive haste, we were 
 startled to hear trembling, piteous cries of 
 human anguish. 
 
 But a moment later we understood. For 
 from the exit of the chamber there emerged a 
 succession of figures we recognized, by their 
 thick, warm, homely clothing, as some of our 
 Russian pilgrims. It was one of the old dames 
 who came first, her mouth all in puckers, the 
 tears streaming down her cheeks. A tottering 
 old man followed, wet-eyed and sobbing. Then 
 other men and other women, with handkerchiefs 
 to mouth, coat-sleeves to eyes, clutching at one 
 another for support all helpless under the sway 
 of an overpowering emotion. And from unseen 
 companions who had followed them into the 
 little chamber, there still came those distressing 
 cries of poignant, present grief. 
 
 As a manifestation of religious fervour, that 
 scene was deeply impressive in its simplicity 
 and sincerity. But not otherwise could I think 
 
Jerusalem 223 
 
 of it than as spiritual light shining in mental 
 darkness. The discoveries of Conder, Warren, 
 and the Palestine Exploration Society did not 
 exist for those poor Russian peasants. Worse, 
 the Reformation did not exist for them. In 
 a word, they carried one's mind back to the 
 sixteenth century, and to the old issue whether 
 truth should be determined by the priests or 
 by the facts. 
 
 The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is within 
 Jerusalem (indeed, that is one ground for ques- 
 tioning its claim to shelter Calvary, which was 
 outside the walls) ; but on leaving the Church 
 of the Holy Sepulchre I experienced a grateful 
 sense of re-entering Jerusalem of being once 
 more in that city which in its entirety is endowed 
 with the glory of hallowed history, so that the 
 visitor does not need to concentrate contem- 
 plation on specific sites and stones, and may 
 reasonably shrink from the effort when the 
 authenticity of those specific sites and stones 
 is open to doubt. 
 
 To walk through the most populous quarter 
 of Jerusalem is to realize the tragic destiny of 
 one race of mankind the race that has survived 
 a world-wide hatred and centuries of persecu- 
 tion. Christians and Mohammedans in that 
 city are numbered by thousands, Jews by tens 
 of thousands. Christians enjoy a full latitude 
 in their holy places. Mohammedans, as the 
 
2^4 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 rulers, have superb mosques wherever they have 
 been pleased to erect them. But for the Jews 
 there is only a little outside alley to localize 
 their heritage of glorious memories. There, 
 every Friday since a remote antiquity, they have 
 besought Heaven to remedy their humiliation 
 and their woes. Again and yet again they 
 raise their voices in the opening words of the 
 seventy-ninth Psalm : " O God, the heathen are 
 come into Thine inheritance ; Thy holy temple 
 have they defiled ; they have laid Jerusalem 
 on heaps. . . . We are become a reproach to 
 our neighbours, a scorn and derision to them 
 that are about us. How long, Lord ? Wilt 
 Thou be angry for ever ? " 
 
 It was not on a Friday that we passed through 
 the narrow, humble streets and came to the 
 Place of Wailing. But we found there several 
 Jews weeping and uttering their piteous lamen- 
 tations. They spoke into the crevices of a huge 
 wall that rose as a barrier between them and 
 the site of their Temple of old that Temple 
 of which the great stones at the base of the 
 wall are believed to be relics. 
 
 The quivering petitions of those poor old 
 Jews, like the passionate grief of the Russian 
 pilgrims, were as living links between to-day 
 and the most momentous events in the history 
 of the world. After the lapse of a long series of 
 centuries, here were men shedding tears over 
 
THE PLACE OF WAILING 
 
 22 5 
 
 15 
 
226 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 those things that happened in ancient Jerusalem, 
 which has long since melted into dust. In that 
 narrow outside alley I was witnessing a scene in 
 a drama that had humanity for its theme and 
 eternity for its scope. 
 
 We paid our half sovereigns to see what lay 
 on the other side of that wall. Of all areas 
 on the earth, the Haram enclosure offers, I 
 imagine, the most impressive combination of 
 interests. It embraces thirty - five acres of 
 Jerusalem. From that stately area, part pave- 
 ment and part turf, with its cypress-trees and 
 noble buildings, one can see the Mount of 
 Olives rising near at hand to the east a gentle 
 slope tinted in the sunlight to hues of tender 
 grey, and mapped across its surface with a web 
 of white walls. Largely an artificial level, the 
 Haram enclosure is arched and hollowed under- 
 ground to an extent which proves, to the 
 satisfaction of modern authorities, that ancient 
 Jerusalem contrived a system of water storage 
 practically inexhaustible. Of those subterranean 
 reservoirs, one the Great Sea has a capacity 
 of two million gallons. 
 
 But it is as the nearly certain site of Solomon's 
 Temple, and of the Herod Temple known to 
 Jesus, that the Haram enclosure makes its most 
 powerful appeal to the imagination. On spots 
 deemed to be of special sanctity, Islam has 
 reared its palatial shrines. The Mosque of 
 
Jerusalem 
 
 227 
 
 Omar, or Dome of the Rock, I have somewhere 
 seen described as the world's most beautiful 
 building. I can merely think of it as presenting 
 the most richly decorated interior that I have 
 ever seen. Mosaic and marble and gold can 
 presumably reach no higher triumph of gleaming 
 splendour than is there achieved. 
 
 HARAM ENCLOSURE 
 
228 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 When the slippered visitor has arrived at the 
 inner corridor, his brain is drugged by a sense of 
 overpowering magnificence ; and thus the force 
 of contrast lends an almost startling aspect to a 
 great bare, rugged rock which, enclosed by an 
 ornamental grille, occurs beneath the centre of 
 the dome. It is about sixty feet long, by a width 
 somewhat less, and of an altitude that varies 
 from two feet to six. Whether in the ancient 
 Temple this rock supported the Holy of Holies 
 or the Altar of Burnt-Offering is a matter of 
 uncertainty. 
 
 Having visited the Dome of the Chain a 
 beautiful little building that is said to mark the 
 spot where David had his throne of judgment 
 we made a tour of the Mosque of el-Aksa, and 
 descended into the spacious vaults known as 
 Solomon's Stables. 
 
 The Haram enclosure makes its lofty intellectual 
 appeal to all Christendom, as to other vast sections 
 of mankind. But it provides some incidental dis- 
 tress to persons nurtured in the mental freedom 
 of Protestantism. Hollows in the pavement of 
 the two magnificent mosques are indicated, one 
 as the footprint of Jesus, another as the footprint 
 of Mahomet, and a third as the handprint of 
 Gabriel. These monstrous trivialities of ecclesi- 
 astical theatricalism are shown by Moslems eager 
 for baksheesh. 
 
 Such hindrances to a devout spirit pass, 
 
Jerusalem 229 
 
 however, quickly out of mind. Wonderful as 
 are the buildings, reverence is provoked not 
 merely, and not mainly, within their restricted 
 areas. Jerusalem and its surroundings form one 
 vast shrine open to heaven. 
 
 To ascend the gentle slopes in the Armenian 
 quarter is, under sanction of authoritative 
 opinion, to believe that one's feet are on Zion. 
 When your eyes and thoughts rest on the Mount 
 of Olives, conspicuous from so many standpoints, 
 there is no element of doubt to qualify a deep 
 content. On its lower slopes you see a little 
 enclosure where several olive-trees survive from 
 long ago. There, or somewhere near, was the 
 Garden of Gethsemane. 
 
 Narrow, steep, with its arches of gloom, the 
 Via Dolorosa, stretching in a broken line amid 
 the city, figures to the imagination as an avenue 
 of infinite sorrow, though its claim to a special 
 sanctity is affected by the doubts that involve 
 the traditional Holy Sepulchre. Some part of 
 its mediaeval reputation must now be transferred 
 to the road that skirts Jerusalem. 
 
 Let me outline the scene as we several times 
 saw it while driving along the east side of the 
 city. On rising ground to the left, venerable 
 grey walls, broad- based on the solid rock, rise 
 to a height of sixty feet, and owe much of their 
 majesty to grand old gateways, some sealed with 
 massive masonry. The ground rises also on the 
 
230 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 right, for the road is in a valley the Valley of 
 Jehoshaphat. We pass a long line of piteous 
 humanity lepers, the halt, and the aged poor, 
 who offer the testimony of their rags and sores 
 to the eye of compassion. Turning the north- 
 west corner of Jerusalem, we still tread that 
 white road which runs between the city's bul- 
 warks and dusty hills that are honeycombed 
 with tombs. 
 
 And presently we pause to peer over a wall 
 at an area of neglect and weeds, where the 
 ground rises with precipitous abruptness. That 
 unlovely little hill is thought to be Calvary. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 
 
 Rachel's Tomb Bethlehem and its people The Church of the 
 Nativity Bethany The Wilderness of Judaea Inn of the 
 Good Samaritan An impressive ravine Hermits of the pre- 
 cipice Modern Jericho A plague of flies Across the gorgeous 
 plain The Dead Sea A walk alpng the shore The reedy 
 Jordan Ancient Jericho. 
 
 W/E went by 
 ~* carriage to 
 Bethlehem, stop- 
 ping twice upon 
 the way first at 
 a well, later at a 
 shrine. 
 
 The well was 
 of the sort that 
 answers to our 
 own acceptance of the word, with a stone ring 
 raised about the mouth. There is poetry in the 
 conception which locates the seeing of a star by 
 the reflection it shed in water. The Wise Men 
 looked down into that well such is the beau- 
 tiful tradition and saw a shining image of the 
 beacon in the heavens. 
 
 231 
 
 
232 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 The imagination asks in vain for a pillar to 
 mark the unchallenged site of Rachel's tomb. 
 What one sees is a bare little square building 
 roofed at one end by a dome. We pursued 
 further our winding course amid the hills, and soon 
 before us lay a little city radiant in the sunshine. 
 The Christian population of Bethlehem has 
 a marked individuality, of which the prevailing 
 note is brightness, as revealed superficially by 
 touches of colour in the native costumes, and 
 essentially by personal demeanour. Girls wear- 
 ing white veils came to our carriage with 
 carvings in mother-of-pearl, and other examples 
 of local handiwork ; their business overtures, so 
 far from having any taint of whining impor- 
 tunity, being characterized by smiling alertness 
 and an engaging maidenly dignity. 
 
 Passing through the narrow streets, we came 
 upon a large emporium of fancy goods fashioned 
 into some analogy to sacred themes ; so that, as 
 was easy to see, modern Bethlehem is awake 
 to commercial opportunities presented by a 
 constant stream of tourists and pilgrims. This 
 traffic in religious toys might well prove dis- 
 cordant with the spirit in which one visits 
 Bethlehem. But the people of that little city 
 conduct themselves with grace and decorum, 
 and I am sure that they act in this matter 
 innocently and with reverence. 
 
 Stooping, we entered the Church of the 
 
Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 233 
 
 Nativity the oldest and most sacred Christian 
 building in the world. For it encloses a portion 
 of the basilica which, in the year 327, Con- 
 stantine built upon the birthplace of Jesus, as 
 was attested by Jerome (who dwelt within the 
 edifice soon after its erection), and as is con- 
 firmed by modern scholarship. In awe one 
 treads the spacious nave and aisles, where 
 columns and windows are black with antiquity. 
 Reaching the choir, we found Greeks worship- 
 ping in the chapel to the right, Armenians in 
 the chapel to the left. Our guide, a Roman 
 Catholic, conducted us to the adjoining Latin 
 Church of St. Catherine, whence we descended, 
 by steps rough hewn, into a subterranean region 
 of supreme sanctity. 
 
 We brushed against the solid rock in groping 
 along narrow, crooked passa ges, which ccnnect 
 several simple and solemn chambers. One 
 square vault was Jerome's study, where hangs 
 an archaic painting that shows him writing. 
 Another vault contains his tomb, and the tombs 
 of Paula and Eustachia mother and daughter 
 who were Jeromes devoted disciples. Finally 
 one reaches a cavern or grotto having a width 
 of eleven feet and a length more than thrice 
 that measure. At the eastern end is a semi- 
 circular apse, where a silver star in a marble 
 slab marks the spot where Jesus was born. 
 Doors in the grotto open upon steps that lead 
 
234 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 10M 
 
 
 RACHEL'S TOMB 
 
 to the Greek and Armenian chapels overhead ; 
 and it is the shameful and amazing fact that 
 jealousy exists among the rival Christian sects, 
 who sometimes defile those holy precincts by 
 engaging in bloody brawls. Here and there 
 within the building we saw Moslem soldiers 
 stationed alert, on guard, ready with their 
 loaded weapons to preserve the peace. That 
 Christianity should merit this standing rebuke 
 from an alien religion, by acting in contra- 
 diction to itself at the very fountain-head of 
 the faith, makes one hang one's head in bitter 
 humiliation. 
 
Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 235 
 
 We retraced our five miles' journey across the 
 beautiful hills ; and next day we set out from 
 Jerusalem, again in a carriage, to visit Jericho 
 and the Dead Sea. Crossing the lower slopes 
 of Olivet, within two miles we came to Bethany 
 a warren of dwarf stone buildings abutting on 
 the road. I saw a sparrow pecking for insects 
 in the crevice of a garden wall ; near at hand a 
 white cat was sporting in a clump of buttercups ; 
 and we heard the laughing voices of little girls 
 at play. These things somehow assisted me 
 to realize the relation in which Bethany stands 
 to Jerusalem ; and as we confronted that jumble 
 of white walls and dwellings, bathed in cheerful 
 sunshine, I found something very human in the 
 thought that Jesus, during His visits to the city, 
 made His home in the suburbs. 
 
 We lingered at Bethany to visit the traditional 
 home of Mary and Martha, which proved inter- 
 esting as affording probable clues to external 
 aspects of a dwelling at the time of Christ. 
 The people of the village looked poor and 
 unenlightened ; and we went to and fro with a 
 following of high-spirited youngsters, who, turn- 
 ing a deaf ear to Solomon's homilies on good 
 behaviour, mingled appeals to our generosity 
 with reflections on our personal appearance. 
 
 Having been joined by a mounted soldier 
 engaged to guard us, we resumed our journey 
 down the winding road, which soon passed into 
 
236 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 a region of hillocks and hills a strange region, 
 which puzzled the mind to account for its 
 strangeness. The explanation came with the 
 recollection that other hills and hillocks are 
 green. These smooth undulations were, for the 
 most part, unclothed by vegetation. They 
 exhibited their naked geology to the view ; the 
 crumbling limestone showing various tints of 
 white and grey, with large areas red with iron. 
 Only here and there was a sheltered slope, where 
 a stretch of grass was jewelled with scarlet 
 anemones, and poppies nodded among the mustard 
 and the daisies. Elsewhere it was a sun-scorched 
 landscape. 
 
 We were in the Wilderness of Judaea ; and 
 I had an inquisitive eye for such life as might 
 be astir. Over all the miles of our route I saw 
 but one little bird, and only two butterflies. 
 Lizards were numerous enough on stones by 
 the roadside, and I caught sight of a snake as 
 it wriggled away in affright at carriage wheels. 
 Of tillage we saw no sign, save where two 
 donkeys drew a plough that an old man was 
 guiding. On one hill three camels showed 
 conspicuous against the sky-line, and upon the 
 back of each animal, by a droll coincidence, a 
 couple of crows were roosting. 
 
 Tradition locates the scene of the Good 
 Samaritan's compassion ; and these my brother 
 alighted to make a sketch. In the neighbouring 
 
Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 237 
 
 inn a great profusion of Palestine mementoes 
 were on sale. While we drank coffee in a 
 gallery of costumes and fancy goods, who 
 should come ambling in but one of our Russian 
 pilgrims ? Sweeping off his hat in courtly 
 salutation, the merry-hearted old fellow obviously 
 accepted us on a basis of established friendship ; 
 nor did an ignorance of English on the one hand, 
 or of Russian on the other, hinder relations of 
 sustained cordiality. 
 
 Returning to the carriage, we continued our 
 downhill journey through the parched realm 
 of grey and red, the road's serpentine course 
 figuring in perspective before us like the lash 
 of a whip, with the mountains of Moab lying 
 beyond in a beautiful blue haze. The air was 
 hot ; and it grew hotter, and still hotter. We 
 met a diligence returning with fellow-travellers 
 from Jericho : and I chanced to notice an 
 accompanying cloud of flies hovering about 
 their heads. 
 
 A bend in the road brought us to one of the 
 most majestic ravines I have ever seen. Peering 
 over the side, we saw far below a line of vivid 
 vegetation, while the murmur of splashing water 
 came up to us with a grateful suggestion of 
 refreshing coolness. For by this time the oppres- 
 sive atmosphere had dried my lips and set my 
 flesh athrob. It was the Brook Cherith that 
 made music in our ears. 
 
238 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 On the other side of the chasm, the jagged 
 cliff rose perpendicular to a dizzy height ; and 
 up there on the face of the precipice we espied 
 little walls and windows made by man. It 
 lifted the mind out of accustomed channels to 
 think of human beings dwelling in such elevated 
 isolation. The holy hermits of those eyries, 
 Solomon said, hold only such occasional com- 
 munion with the outer world as is necessary to 
 procure the bare requirements of life. 
 
 From that point the road descended steeply, 
 and soon we arrived upon a vast plain. Dimly 
 in the surrounding distance I saw nature in a 
 new aspect, steeped in strange colours ; but the 
 hot, heavy air induced a mental lassitude, and I 
 heeded only that part of the immediate fore- 
 ground to which Solomon called our attention. 
 There, it seemed, had stood the Jericho that 
 Jesus knew now a site level and bare save for 
 some stumps of masonry that once were towers. 
 We rode on to a little group of houses with a 
 background of trees ; and half an hour later we 
 sat down to lunch in the hotel of modern Jericho. 
 Then I had my first experience of a plague of flies. 
 
 Tablecloth and ceiling were black with them, 
 and the intervening space was filled with myriads 
 on the wing. What with the heat, and that 
 enveloping cloud of buzzing insects, I am bound 
 to say we did not enjoy our lunch. The 
 management seemed to have left no stone 
 
Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 239 
 
 unturned so far as glass traps, sticky paper, and 
 other expedients were concerned. Moreover, 
 behind us were posted attendants who waved 
 fans persistently about our heads. But man is 
 powerless against hungry, obstinate, innumerable 
 flies. Retiring routed, and eager for a wash, we 
 went upstairs to our bedrooms, which proved to 
 be full of mosquitoes. 
 
 But all these discomforts 
 were forgotten when pres- 
 ently we were driving across 
 the Plain a gorgeous, ma- 
 jestic, awful region. Con- 
 ceive yourself traversing a 
 vast arena many miles across, 
 hemmed in to right and left 
 by mountains, and with an s^ 
 illimitable view of water 
 on ahead. Conceive this 
 landscape coloured in two children at jericho 
 
 great streaks and patches with brilliant, un- 
 expected hues. The naked marls and sands 
 form areas of dazzling white, dull gold, shining 
 silver, and pearly grey. The sea ahead is a rich, 
 velvety blue. The limestone mountains stained 
 with iron are mammoth walls of alabaster and 
 glowing red, save where in the distance they 
 shimmer with luminous shades of mauve and 
 purple. Nor is green omitted from the variety 
 of colours flaming in the sunshine. Turn your 
 
240 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 head and you see, away to the left, a vivid, 
 verdant line that marks the course of the 
 Jordan. 
 
 Our carriage went jolting over the mounds 
 and hollows of that parched and variegated 
 ground ; and anon we arrived beside the Dead 
 Sea, and stood on its shelving beach of pebbles. 
 There was no wind, and a great stillness lay 
 upon the lonely waste of water. Some slight 
 wooden shelters, with a thoughtful Arab in 
 charge, stood beside the shore. No boat, or 
 buoy, or other sign of man, was anywhere 
 visible. 
 
 Some writers have asserted that sentient 
 beings cannot live in the Dead Sea, and that 
 birds expire in the act of flying over it. Such 
 was not the fate of several birds that essayed the 
 feat while we were there ; and as for the former 
 statement, did I not see in the water a con- 
 spicuous creature, some six feet long, and not 
 merely alive, but swimming and diving with 
 exuberant vitality ? Nor was my enjoyment of 
 a bathe in the Dead Sea one whit less than my 
 brother's. That the water had an unusual 
 buoyancy we realized on trying to plunge 
 beneath the surface for the rest, it had a taste 
 so salt as almost to be bitter, and we came 
 ashore with a tingling sensation about our eyes. 
 
 While my brother was sketching, I went 
 alone to explore the shore. Along the mile or 
 
Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 241 
 
 so of my walk, the beach was thickly strewn 
 with a brown litter of tree trunks and roots, 
 barkless branches, and stout canes flotsam of 
 nature. For shells and dead fish I looked in vain. 
 
 My laborious tramp on the yielding stones 
 brought me at last to the place where, in a 
 leafy jungle, the Jordan came pouring through 
 several channels to merge with the sea. 
 
 Wandering about the river bank, I peered 
 into pools and eddies, and found the water 
 alive with fishes. Nor were they all small fry. 
 One grey creature, some fifteen inches long, 
 went splashing off at my approach. I pursued 
 him from spot to spot for his jerky journey 
 through the shallows was marked by cloudy 
 trails but, coming to deeper water, he eluded 
 my further inquisitiveness. 
 
 Later I found among the trees a picturesque 
 hut set on poles and built of reeds and branches 
 its occupants two swarthy individuals whose 
 bearing was friendly if their words were mean- 
 ingless to me. By gesture I revealed a curiosity 
 to learn the occasion of their dwelling in that 
 lonely delta. They were fishermen, it would 
 seem ; for, conducting me to the rear of that 
 strange abode, they pointed to a line of their 
 captures that hung in the sun to dry a sort 
 of large, flat-headed barbel which, or I was 
 much mistaken, were fellows to the fish I had 
 seen in the water. 
 
 16 
 
242 A Journalist in the Holy Land 
 
 Also they showed me their little boat moored 
 against the bank ; whereupon, concerned not to 
 miss an opportunity to cruise on the Jordan, I 
 signalled my desire to be taken for a row. Nor 
 were they slow to gratify the whim of an 
 intrusive stranger who could give no account 
 of himself; and a minute later I was being 
 borne along the bosom of the world's most 
 interesting river. The cloudy water moved with 
 great momentum down the reedy avenue; so 
 that, perceiving the toil it cost my companions 
 to make headway against the torrent, I early 
 directed them to reverse our course and return 
 to the bank. 
 
 They were Greek fishermen, I afterwards 
 learnt from Solomon, and it seemed that the 
 fish they catch are endowed by tradition with 
 a sacred significance, so that the skulls, em- 
 bellished by crude paintings, find a sale among 
 visitors to Palestine. As we drove back to the 
 hotel, a new interest was provided by the 
 flights of storks that moved overhead white 
 processions flashing against the azure sky. 
 
 Having dined under the irksome conditions 
 that prevailed at lunch, we sat after dark in the 
 garden, quenching our thirst with mineral waters 
 of exorbitant price, and watching dainty fire- 
 flies flit among the trees. 
 
 Next morning we walked through modern 
 Jericho, which proved in the main a collection of 
 
Bethlehem and the Dead Sea 243 
 
 huts made with sticks and reeds, and occupied 
 by a primitive people scantily attired in rags. 
 Journeying farther afield, we came to the 
 mounds and reservoirs that mark the site of 
 yet a third Jericho the Old Testament city. 
 Here we picked up fragments of pottery and 
 specimens of other relics that Arab excavations 
 had brought to the surface. 
 
 The rest may be told in a sentence we went 
 back in the carriage to Jerusalem, and by rail 
 I journeyed thence through orange groves to 
 Jaffa and the sea. So ended the most glorious 
 experience of my life, an experience that can 
 never be excelled, and never repeated. For 
 there is only one Palestine, and a second visit 
 would lack the quality of a revelation. 
 
 FINIS 
 
INDEX 
 
 Acre, 80 
 
 bazaars of, 87 
 
 departure from, 89 
 
 harbour of, 88 
 
 prison of, 87 
 
 walls of, 85 
 Alexandria, 1 
 Algerian settlers, 153 
 Ali, 36 
 
 American tourist, an, 26 
 Annunciation Church, Nazareth, 
 
 110 
 Antiquary, friendly, 63 
 Antiquities, true and false, 186 
 Arab hawker, 7 
 
 husbandman, 96 
 
 porter, indignant, 47 
 
 singer, 146 
 
 Baby breadwinner, a, 197 
 
 Baksheesh, 1 9 
 
 Basins, rock-cut, 123 
 
 Bath, a, 133 
 
 Bazaars, 87 
 
 Bedouin manners, 215 
 
 Beehive, a, 191 
 
 Bethany, 235 
 
 Bethel, 213 
 
 Bethlehem, 231, 232 
 
 Birds, 104 
 
 Blood-shedding procession, 41 
 
 Bog, adventure in a, 178 * 
 Boy, purchase of a, declined, 30 
 Breakfast, a sumptuous, 100 
 Buried treasure, 187 
 
 Cairo, 5, 17 
 
 police of, 40 
 Calvary, 230 
 
 Camel-drivers, friendly, 106 
 Camp, our, 55 
 Capernaum, 130 
 
 Card, a protecting, 98 
 Caterpillars, 105 
 Cherith, 237 
 
 Church of the Holy Sepulchre 
 220 
 
 of the Nativity, 233 
 Columns, ancient, at Samaria, 
 
 183 
 Cook, Mr., 3 
 
 Cookery, a question of, 161 
 Copping, Harold, meeting with, 
 
 54 
 
 Damascus Gate, 216 
 Dead Sea, 240 
 Dervishes, the, 34 
 " Ditch of Joseph," 1 76 
 Dome of the Chain, 228 
 Dragoman, my, 20 
 Drink question, the, 157 
 
 245 
 
246 
 
 Index 
 
 Ebal, 204 
 
 Egyptians, appearance of, 6, 13 
 
 Endor, 160 
 
 " Eye of a needle," 85 
 
 Falsehood, a, 164 
 
 Farrier at work, a, 132 
 
 Fish in Sea of Galilee, 142 
 
 in the Jordan, 241 
 
 Fisherman, a naked, 143 
 
 Fishermen in the Jordan, 241 
 
 "Five Loaves," the, 130 
 
 Flies, plague of, 238 
 
 Flowers, 96, 105, 112, 116, 130 
 
 Friend in need, a, 17 
 
 Frogs, 105 
 
 Fuel, 32 
 
 Funeral procession, 32 
 
 Galilee, 128 
 George, our waiter, 58 
 Geranium, wild, 168 
 Gergesene cliffs, 130 
 Gerizim, 204 
 Gethsemane 229 
 Grass, 96 
 Guard, our, 62 
 
 Haifa, 54 
 
 Hamman, 133 
 
 Haram enclosure, 226 
 
 Hermits, 238 
 
 Hermon, 107 
 
 High Priest of the Samaritans, 
 
 200 
 Holy Land, arrival, 53 
 Horns of Hattin, 129 
 Horses, our, 65, 76 
 Husbandman with a sickle, 97 
 Hussein, horse of, 43 
 Hyena, a, 124 
 Hyssop, 85 
 
 Issachar, 175 
 
 Jacob's Well, 204 
 
 Jaffa, 54 
 
 Jealousy of Christian sects, 234 
 
 Jenin, 174 
 
 Jericho, 238, 242 
 
 Jerusalem, 214 
 
 hotel life at, 217 
 
 population of, 223 
 Jews, tragedy of the, 223 
 Jezreel, 173 
 
 John the Baptist, tomb of, 
 
 188 
 Jordan, the, 148 
 Judaea, hills of, 214 
 Justice, Turkish, 203 
 Juveniles, hostile, 98 
 
 Kefr Kenna, 114, 116 
 
 Sabt, 153 
 Kestrels, 156 
 
 Lebonah, 205 
 Leper, a, 108 
 Little Hermon, 169 
 Lizards, 108 
 Lost path, a, 92 
 Lubban, Plain of, 205 
 Lubieh, 120 
 
 children of, 122 
 
 Mahomet, our muleteer, 81 
 
 his horsemanship, 90 
 Mary's Well, 108 
 Maryetta, death of, 137 
 Moab, 237 
 Moharram, the, 38 
 
 Moses, the place where he was 
 
 found, 33 
 Moslem hostility, 201 
 Mosque of el Aksa, 228 
 
Index 
 
 247 
 
 Mosque of Jezzar, 88 
 
 of Omar, 220 
 Mosquito curtains, 60 
 Mount Carmel, 104 
 
 Gilboa, 107, 172 
 
 of Olives, 229 
 
 Tabor, 160 
 Murderers, 87 
 
 Nablus, 195, 199 
 
 people of, 197 
 Nain, 168 
 Naphtali, 113 
 Nazareth, 99, 107 
 
 children of, 108 
 
 market of, 110 
 
 welcome to, 107 
 Needlework, 116 
 Negroes, a family of, 158 
 Nileometer, the, 33 
 
 Old Cairo, 33 
 Olive groves, old, 181 
 Oranges, a bargain in, 7 
 Orphanage, Nazareth, 111 
 
 Packing up, 102 
 Passengers, fellow, 51 
 Passports, 59 
 
 Persian procession, the, 39 
 Photograph-taking, 154, 166 
 Pigeon dish, a, 161 
 Place of Wailing, 224 
 Plain of Dothan, 176 
 of Esdraelon, 107, 172, 173 
 Poisonous creatures, 151 
 Pool of Hezekiah, 220 
 Port Said, 45 
 Prison, 87 
 
 Procession, a grotesque, 194 
 Protestant school, Shefa-Amr, 
 102 
 
 Pyramids, the, 18 
 
 ascent of, 22 
 
 descent of, 23 
 
 Rabbi Abraham loses his wife 
 
 and daughter, 137 
 Rachel's tomb, 232 
 Railway fares, 5 
 Rain, 88, 94 
 
 Rameses II., mummy of, 33 
 Reassuring message, a, 98 
 Reineh, 113 
 
 women of, 115 
 Riding lessons, 66 
 Robbers, danger of, 97 
 Rodah Island, 33 
 Rose of Sharon, 105 
 Row on the Nile, 35 
 Runaway ride, a, 79 
 Russian pilgrims, 206 
 
 Saidna Hussein, 43 
 Samaria, 182 
 
 people of, 184 
 
 school at, 188 
 Scenery of Egypt, 6 
 Schoolmaster, a Moslem, 190 
 Sea of Galilee, 129, 132 
 
 bath in, 142 
 
 cruise on, 140 
 
 fish in, 142 
 Sebastiyeh, 182 
 Semaleh, 150 
 Shadoof, the, 16 
 
 Sharia Darb-el-Gedid, 38 
 Shechem, 195, 199 
 Shefa-Amr, 93, 100 
 
 school at, 102 
 
 tombs at, 104 
 Shiites, 43 
 
 Moharram of, 32 
 Shunem,^170 
 
2 4 8 
 
 Index 
 
 Shunem houses of, 171 
 Simon the cook, 161 
 Sleeping pavilion, our, 60 
 Snake, a, 192 
 Soldier guards, 61 
 
 fresh, 125, 165 
 Solomon, our dragoman, 58 
 Solomon's Stables, 228 
 Sparrows, 192 
 
 Sphinx, the, 26 
 Spiders, 63 
 Stork, a captive, 120 
 Storm on Sea of Galilee, 141 
 Suez Canal, the, 45, 49 
 Sugar-cane, 35 
 Sweet-water Canal, 49 
 Syrian village, appearance of, 
 119 
 
 Tea, Bedouin, 169 
 Tent, our, 58 
 Tiberias, 131 
 
 market place, 132 
 
 Tobacco bargain, a, 195 
 Tombs at Shefa-Amr, 104 
 Tourists at Jerusalem, 215 
 Trespassing, 93 
 
 Unchanging East, the, 86 
 
 Valley of Jehoshaphat, 230 
 Vermin, plague of, 213 
 Via Dolorosa, 229 
 Village, an Arab, 30 
 Vines, old, 181 
 
 Waiter, our, 57 
 Wall, fortified, 85 
 Water-carriers, 114 
 
 supply of Egypt, 14 
 
 tortoises, 153 
 Wilderness of Judiea, 236 
 Wine- presses, 123 
 
 Zebulon, 113 
 Zion, 229 
 
 Printed by Hazell, Watson <fc Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury. 
 
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