of ttw 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. & 
 
 1 \C I I 
 
 J. >w> .( 
 
 Section . • i5. r. l7. 
 
 Number , 
 
I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 Princeton Theological Seminary Library 
 
 https://archive.org/details/ondesertwithbrieOOfiel 
 
^A/clIs of Moses 
 
 OF THE W A N D-E R I N G I 
 
 'of If a* 
 
 Cmnp’by 
 the Hed Sou 
 
 
 MaKliav! 
 
 it Kath< 
 
 Urff'Shomer/ 
 
 y 
 
 DUlanrc from the Well* of Boses to the Content 153 Bile*. 
 Ciunel’s Journey a tiny 20 to25 Biles. 
 
 Route - Camps X 
 
 Ras Mohammed ^ 
 ME n SEA 
 
 
ON THE DESERT 
 
 WITH A BRIEF REVIEW OF 
 
 RECENT EVENTS IN EGYPT. 
 
 ✓ 
 
 BY HENRY M. FIELD, D.D. 
 
 AUTHOR or “FROM THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY TO THE GOLDEN HORN,” 
 AND “FROM EGYPT TO JAPAN.” 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
 1883 
 
Copyright, 1883 , by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 
 
2To CKcorge 35. $ost JH. 3S 
 
 PROFESSOR OF SURGERY AND BOTANY 
 IN THE SYRIAN PROTESTANT COLLEGE AT BEIRUT, 
 
 Companion on tfje JBesert, 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED THIS STORY 
 OF OUR WANDERINGS TOGETHER. 
 

CONTENTS 
 
 .w • xj * 
 
 # 
 
 I. Egypt in the Spbing op 1882 1 
 
 II. England in Egypt 22 
 
 III. The Fiest Day on the Deseet 38 
 
 IY. Maeah, Elim and the Camp by the Bed Sea 55 
 
 Y. Oue Bedaween Companions 65 
 
 YI. A Sabbath in the Wildeeness 78 
 
 VII. The Ascent op Mount Seebal 87 
 
 VIII. Coming to the Foot op Sinai 98 
 
 IX. On the Top op Mount Sinai 109 
 
 X. The Hebbew Commonwealth pounded on Religion 121 
 
 XI. Theoceacy and Democeacy 138 
 
 XII. The Ceiminal Law— was it weitten in Blood ? 156 
 
 XIII. Lipe in a Convent 172 
 
 XIY. Leaving Sinai. Passing Theough the Mountains 188 
 
 XV. The Geeat and Teeeible Wildeeness 203 
 
 XVI. Nukhl— on the Route of Pilgeims to Mecca 218 
 
 XVII. The Old Sheikh. Illness on the Deseet 232 
 
 XVIII. Pekils Among Robbees 248 
 
 XIX. Retukning to Civilization 262 
 
 XX. The Moslems of Gaza— A Beave Missionaey 273 
 
 XXI. Theough the Hill Countey to Bethlehem 283 
 
 XXII. Abound the Place wheee Cheist was Boen 291 
 
 XXIII. The Dead Sea and the Joedan. Jeeicho 306 
 
 XXIV. Going up to Jeeusalem 319 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Tlie Peninsula of Sinai has been a favorite ground of 
 Biblical explorers. In their zeal to visit scenes made dear 
 by connection with sacred history, they have sought to 
 follow the track of the children of Israel from the time of 
 their departure out of Egypt ; to trace their marches on 
 the desert ; and to fix the place of their encampments, not 
 only around the base of Sinai, but even when wandering 
 and almost lost in the Great and Terrible Wilderness. 
 The fruit of these researches is a Library of Exploration, 
 which forms a most valuable addition to our Biblical 
 Literature, not only for the knowledge it gives of sacred 
 geography, but of the whole religious, social, and political 
 economy of the Hebrews. 
 
 While these great works, the monuments of so much 
 learning, occupy the attention of scholars, other readers 
 may be interested in turning over a Portfolio of Sketches, 
 which claims only to present a few Pictures of the Desert. 
 The Peninsula is as unique in its scenery as in its history — 
 combining the three great features of the desert, the moun- 
 tains and the sea ; the sands, the cliffs, and the rolling wa- 
 ters — all which have a peculiar fascination when seen in a 
 pure, transparent atmosphere, with the lights and shadows 
 of sunrisings and sunsettings. Passing through such a 
 country, not as an explorer, but only as a traveller, the 
 writer has been content to accept what came within his 
 personal observation, and to describe only what he could 
 
11 . 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 see with his own eyes. The notes which are here written 
 out were all taken on the spot, often in the most difficult 
 circumstances — in the tent at the close of day, when wea- 
 ried with a long march ; or at noon, resting under a cliff, 
 in “ the shadow of a great rock in a weary land on the 
 shore of the sea, or on the tops of mountains. Sometimes, 
 as he passed over a point of view which commanded a wide 
 sweep of the horizon, he could only rein in his camel, and 
 sketch the scene from the saddle. Pictures thus taken, if 
 they have no other merit, may have that of a literal fidel- 
 ity, and imperfect as they are, may perhaps impart a little 
 of the glow of enthusiasm which the scenes themselves 
 enkindled in him who attempts to describe them, and thus 
 lead some to follow in his steps ; while to others he would 
 hope that these lighter sketches may serve as an introduc- 
 tion to those great works, which are not only of absorbing 
 interest, but rich in learning and instruction. 
 
 Once only in the following pages is the simple narra- 
 tive — the detail of incidents of tent-life, of the camp and 
 the march, or the description of scenes on the mountain 
 and the desert — interrupted to introduce a defence of the 
 Hebrew Law. This may be thought quite unnecessary. 
 But it has become such a fashion of the day to question, 
 not only the inspiration of Moses, but his wisdom as a 
 Lawgiver, and even his humanity, that one who was loyal 
 to that great name could hardly refrain from some reflec- 
 tions which naturally arose under the cliffs of Sinai. 
 
ON THE DESERT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OP 1882. 
 
 Tlie war had not yet come. For months there had 
 been rumors of trouble in Egypt ; the English papers 
 were full of accounts of tumult and disorder ; there had 
 been a military revolution ; troops had surrounded the 
 Palace of the Khedive, and compelled a change of Minis- 
 try; all power was in the hands of the army; constitu- 
 tional authority was destroyed, and the country was drift- 
 ing into anarchy. Such reports created a feeling of alarm 
 in Europe, and many travellers who had proposed to spend 
 a Winter on the Nile, remained in the South of France, or 
 in Italy. I left Naples with some apprehension, but as we 
 approached Alexandria on the morning of the IGth of Feb- 
 ruary, the sun rose on the same scene as when we had 
 landed there from Constantinople six years before. There 
 was no sign of warlike preparation. Everything had the 
 look of peace and of commercial prosperity. The ships 
 that crowded the harbor showed that we were entering the 
 great maritime city of the East, while there was a faint 
 revival of the ancient splendor in the palaces on the shore. 
 In all this there was nothing to give token of a city that 
 in four short months was to be the scene of a fearful mas- 
 
2 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 sacre ; and tliat one month later was to he devoted to 
 destruction. 
 
 For the present there was nothing to excite appre- 
 hension. I landed at Alexandria with no worse fate than 
 that of being pulled this way and that, as every traveller 
 is, by the Arab boatmen, anxious for the honor of carrying 
 his baggage and receiving his money ; and drove to the 
 Hotel de l’Europe on the Place Mehemet Ali, which was the 
 scene of the massacre on the 11th of June ; and proceeded 
 to Cairo without incident, stopping at Tantah by the way, 
 where four months later foreigners were dragged out of 
 trains and butchered in cold blood. But as yet all was 
 quiet, and when I found myself once more in Cairo, in my 
 old quarters at the Grand New Hotel, where I had been six 
 years before, sitting on the same balcony overlooking the 
 Ezbekieh Square, and listening to the same music floating up 
 from under the palm trees below, I felt as if I were at home, 
 and gave myself up to the full enjoyment of the most delight- 
 ful of Eastern cities. For a Winter’s residence, there is no- 
 thing to equal Cairo. The flood of light, which gives bright- 
 ness and color to everything ; the soft and balmy air, which 
 it i 3 a luxury to breathe ; the palms, with their tall trunks 
 and tufted crowns ; the old mosques, with their minarets, 
 from which the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer ; the 
 endless bazaars, with long-bearded Orientals sitting at the 
 place of custom ; the picturesque sights of the streets, with 
 dashing carriages, and lithe and springy syces, dressed in 
 white, with red girdles and velvet caps, running before 
 them, as they ran before the chariot of Pharaoh ; and the 
 long processions of camels, making such a contrast with the 
 donkeys, waddling under the weight of fat, turbaned Turks, 
 or of women, sitting astride and covered in black from 
 head to foot, with only a pair of eyes peering out from 
 faces thickly veiled ; or ambling along, with English riders 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 3 
 
 on their backs, and the donkey boys, now belaboring the 
 little beasts, and now helping their own slow steps by drag- 
 ging at their tails — all these make a variety and change 
 of which one never wearies. 
 
 Of course, however short one’s visit to Cairo, and how- 
 ever often he has been there before, he must ride out to 
 the Pyramids, to look again with awe and wonder at those 
 mighty monuments of the past ; and to Heliopolis, to see 
 the oldest obelisk in Egypt, still standing, as it stood four 
 thousand years ago in front of the Temple of the Sun. 
 where Joseph saw it when he married the daughter of the 
 priest of On ; and where Plato studied philosophy, as Moses 
 had studied before him, and became, like him, “learned in 
 all the wisdom of the Egyptians.” 
 
 To its attractions in the way of antiquities, Cairo has 
 recently had a great addition in the royal mummies lately 
 discovered at Thebes, which have been brought down the 
 Nile, and placed in the Museum at Boulak, which I visited 
 with Dr. Grant, who is an authority as an Egyptologist. 
 If it is an honor to stand before kings, even dead kings, I 
 had it to the full that day. There I saw the open sarcopha- 
 gus which holds the mummied body of Raineses II., whose 
 daughter took Moses out of the bulrushes. Dr. Grant has 
 in his private collection a ring, of which he has good reason 
 to believe that it once adorned the finger of Menephtah, 
 the son and successor of Raineses, and the very Pharaoh of 
 the Exodus. 
 
 Not less interesting to me, in a different way, was a 
 visit to Dr. Schweinfurth, the distinguished African trav- 
 eller, who makes his home in Cairo, as the most conven- 
 ient point Rom which to make his journeys into the inte- 
 rior of Africa. Here he has gathered his great collections 
 of plants ; his walls are lined with charts and maps, on 
 which he kindly traced for me the outlines of his ex- 
 
4 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 plorations. I listened with amazement at the simple story. 
 For thousands and thousands of miles, he made his way 
 through swamp and jungle and forest, across deserts 
 and over mountains. “And how did you travel ? ” I 
 asked. “On foot.” “With whom?” “Alone!” There is 
 nothing in all the history of exploration more touching 
 than the story of the loss of his treasures. When he had 
 travelled more than two years, and amassed a collection 
 of priceless value, it was destroyed in an hour by the burn- 
 ing of an African village. Then indeed he feared that his 
 reason might give way. To keep his mind in action, he 
 began keeping a record of his own footsteps along his lonely 
 and dreary march, and in six months made an actual count 
 of a million and a quarter of steps ! Thus he got his mind 
 away from brooding on his loss, and his brain into some 
 sort of regular action. After this, who shall say that cour- 
 age of the highest kind has died out from among men, or 
 that even this sordid and selfish age of ours cannot produce 
 heroes equal to any found in story ? He reckons the Nile 
 to be the longest river in the world, but in the measurement 
 he includes, as a part of the great river of Egypt, certain 
 affluents of the lakes out of which it flows : apart from which 
 it might not equal either the Amazon or the Mississippi. 
 
 There was another man whom it was a pleasure to see 
 walking about the streets of Cairo — M. de Lesseps. He 
 was generally leading a child by the hand, one of his sec- 
 ond family, the children of his old age. I had met him in 
 America, and he received me very cordially. To my in- 
 quiry as to the comparative difficulties of the two great 
 Interoceanic Canals with which his name is connected, he 1 
 answered without hesitation, that the difficulties of Suez 
 were far greater than of Panama. The former was built 
 in the desert : there were no means of transportation ex- 
 cept the backs of camels, until new approaches were con- 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 5 
 
 structed ; new implements of engineering had to be cre- 
 ated for the unaccustomed task ; even to the end a large 
 part of the excavations had to be made by the fellaheen 
 taking up the sand or the slime in baskets, and carrying it 
 away on the top of their heads ! But at Panama a rail- 
 road is already built across the mountains, which can trans- 
 port men and materials to any point. The old man ex- 
 pressed himself as entirely satisfied with the progress of 
 the work, and spoke with absolute assurance of its complete 
 success ; he was going out to America the next year to see 
 how far it was advanced, although he was nearly eighty 
 years of age, and had not a doubt that he should live to 
 see the waters of the two oceans flowing together. With 
 such a man it seems indeed as if all ordinary rules were 
 reversed ; as if the obstacles of time and nature, which 
 daunt and defeat less ardent spirits, were made to bend to 
 his unconquerable will. 
 
 Cairo has many social attractions in the resident Euro- 
 pean families, and in strangers that come here for the 
 Winter. The American colony is not large, but it is very 
 pleasant. There are no more charming interiors anywhere 
 than in the hospitable homes of General Stone and Judge 
 Batcheller. Br. Grant, the Scotch physician, is married to 
 an American lady, who is well known for her kindness to 
 strangers and her charities to the poor ; she is now greatly 
 interested in the establishment of a hospital, like that 
 at Beirut, under the charge of those Protestant Sisters 
 of Charity, the Deaconesses of Kaiserswerth. The Ameri- 
 can missionaries, in their new building on the Ezbekieh 
 Square, which includes their chapel and their schools, are 
 working quietly but faithfully to diffuse those elements of 
 knowledge and of Christian faith which are the germ of 
 true civilization. In all these families an American is sure 
 to find a hospitable welcome. 
 
6 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 But into whatever circle I went, I found that the one 
 absorbing topic was the political state of Egypt. Since I 
 was here six years ago, on my way round the world, great 
 changes had taken place. Ismail the Magnificent was gone, 
 and Tewfik, his son, reigned in his stead. To give the 
 details of these changes would be a long story. A very 
 brief review is sufficient to render intelligible the course 
 of events, which at last has culminated in war. 
 
 If wa go back to the origin of the troubles in Egypt, we 
 shall find that what the country is suffering to-day is a bit- 
 ter inheritance from the past. The misgovernment of 
 Ismail Pacha prepared the way for the difficulties and em- 
 barrassments of his son, as the excesses of Louis XIV. and 
 Louis XV. prepared the way for the French Kevolution. 
 
 But let us not be unjust even to Ismail Pacha. He was 
 a man of great ability, and he rendered services to Egypt 
 which should never be forgotten. But for him we should 
 not have the Suez Canal ; at least his share in it was as 
 important as that of M. de Lesseps himself : for while the 
 latter furnished the engineering skill, the former furnished 
 the labor ; and if the capital came chiefly from Paris, yet 
 no small part came from Cairo. One-quarter of all that 
 the Khedive received through his foreign loans, it is esti- 
 mated, went into the construction of the Suez Canal, and 
 thus was paid towards a work which was really of far more 
 benefit to England than to Egypt. The Khedive had a 
 noble ambition for his country, which he wished to take 
 rank among the great powers bordering on the Mediterra- 
 nean. He had vast schemes of national grandeur. To 
 restore the ancient commerce of Alexandria, he spent great 
 sums in enlarging its harbor ; he built here and at ~PoA 
 Said long breakwaters against the sea, and piers and 
 docks and wharves ; he had steamers crossing the Medi- 
 terranean and on the Bed Sea ; to revive agriculture, he 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 7 
 
 dug canals for irrigation to carry tlie “ sweet water ” of 
 the Nile to every part of the Delta ; he encouraged the 
 raising of cotton and of sugar ; while his railroads cross- 
 ing the country, with trains of cars taking the place of 
 caravans of camels, gave to ancient Egypt, with its tem- 
 ples and its Pyramids, the aspect of modern civilization. 
 Ismail is no longer ruler of Egypt, hut these works remain, 
 the enduring monuments of his services to his country. 
 
 Could he but have stopped here, he would have had a 
 place in history as one of the greatest rulers of his time. 
 But when could an Oriental prince or potentate be content 
 with labors for the public good ? He must needs also sur- 
 round himself with magnificence and splendor. And so 
 Ismail began building palaces with the same recklessness 
 of cost with which Louis XIV. began building Versailles, 
 only that he had not the wealth of France behind him. 
 
 It has been my fortune, or misfortune, to witness the 
 financial collapse of both Turkey and Egypt. I was in 
 Constantinople in the Autumn of 1875, just after Turkey 
 had announced to Europe that she could no longer pay the 
 interest on her bonds. The wild extravagance of the Sul- 
 tan, wasting untold sums in building palaces, and keeping 
 up his enormous domestic establishment, could have but 
 one issue. To be sure, he paid as long as he could — that 
 is, as long as he could make new debts to pay old ones, or 
 even borrow enough to pay the interest. But a time came 
 when the bankers of London and Paris and Amsterdam 
 were no longer willing to throw their millions into the 
 Bosphorus, and then “there was quickly an end.” 
 
 The disaster to Turkey was naturally followed by that 
 of Egypt. The credit of both rested on the same hollow 
 foundation. Hardly had we crossed the Mediterranean 
 before we saw the same ruin impending in Cairo that had 
 already come in Constantinople. A long career of extrav- 
 
8 
 
 EU-YPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 aganee, exhausting tlie resources of a country that was 
 very poor to begin with, had brought Egypt to the verge 
 of bankruptcy. The crisis was delayed for a time by the 
 purchase of the shares of the Khedive in the Suez Canal 
 by England for four millions sterling. But this could only 
 postpone, it could not prevent, the inevitable ruin. 
 
 Seeing the shadow on the wall, Ismail at last humbled 
 himself so far as to ask advice, and applied to England to 
 send out to Cairo a man skilled in finance to investigate 
 his affairs, and if possible restore order and confidence. 
 I was in Cano at the moment that Mr. Cave appeared on 
 the scene, and began the Herculean task. He soon found 
 that he had no place to stand on ; that he was sinking in a 
 bottomless abyss. It was hard to find* out what were really 
 the debts of Egypt, for the Khedive had an ingenious sys- 
 tem of bookkeeping — a kind of “double entry” — by which 
 a large part of what came into the treasury went into his own 
 private purse, while debts that were incurred were charged 
 to the State. To disentangle this confused mass of accounts, 
 seemed almost hopeless. To meet these debts, resources 
 of every kind were gone ; the Khedive had taxed the coun- 
 try till it could bear no more ; he had wrested everything 
 from his miserable people ; and thus at the same moment 
 had exhausted his resources at home and his power of bor- 
 rowing abroad. 
 
 It were useless and sickening to follow this steady de- 
 scent from one depth to another lower still. It is enough to 
 recognize the peculiar and extraordinary circumstances out 
 of which rose the Anglo-French Control, of which we have 
 heard so much. This was an arrangement by which the 
 finances of the country were placed in the hands of French 
 and English Controllers, who were to collect the taxes and 
 pay the interest on the debt. This has been very severely 
 criticized. I confess I do not like it either in principle or in 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 9 
 
 practice. Partnership in business may be a "wise manage- 
 ment of affairs, but partnership in government does not 
 work so well. An alliance of two countries which join to 
 control a third, is a sort of double-headed monster, which 
 has no more place in government than in nature. Nature 
 abhors monsters, and so does wise diplomacy or legislation. 
 Especially a joint action between two countries so jealous 
 of each other as France and England, was sure to' result 
 sooner or later in misunderstanding and mischief. 
 
 Besides, there was an injustice in the thing to which it is 
 very hard to reconcile our American ideas. To make the 
 best of it, it was an anomalous arrangement — one to which 
 neither England nor France, and least of all America, would 
 submit for an instant. Suppose, because English bankers 
 forty years ago lent money on Pennsylvania bonds, which 
 did not prove very remunerative, England should say 
 “Now we will come in and administer the finances of 
 Pennsylvania for a few years ’until our bondholders are 
 paid in full, principal and interest, with a liberal commis- 
 sion for collecting bad debts, and after that we will give the 
 control back to you,” she would receive an answer that 
 would be quite intelligible. This is the charge that is 
 made against England : that she has used all the weight of 
 her national authority to collect debts, and not even debts 
 owed to herself, but to private capitalists, to speculators, 
 who if they lend money to a State like Egypt at enormous 
 interest, ought at least to take their own risks, and not come 
 to the Government to help them out of a bad bargain, for 
 which they have nobody to blame but themselves. 
 
 But I do not quite understand the matter so, nor that 
 the Anglo-French Control was imposed upon Egypt by 
 foreign power without her consent and against her w ill. 
 It was Ismail Pacha who invited the help of England and 
 France to get him out of his financial difficulties. He had 
 
10 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 got to the end of his rope. Nobody would lend him a 
 shilling. Then it was that England and France said “We 
 will try to raise you up and set you on your legs again, if 
 you will let us manage the finances. Europe will have con- 
 fidence in us, but it will not in you.” This was a pretty hard - 
 bargain, but it was the only one that could be made ; and 
 bad as it was in principle, yet anything was better than levy- 
 ing taxes (and double taxes) by the bastinado. The change 
 brought immediate relief ; the country began to revive. 
 The burden of taxation was still heavy, but at least the peo- 
 ple knew what to depend upon : that they were only to be 
 taxed once a year, and the taxes to be collected at a regular 
 time, and in a regular way. There were no more bastinado- 
 ings to extort money. Confidence returned ; Egyptian bonds 
 rose in all the markets of Europe. But the Control had to 
 deal not only with an impoverished country, but with an 
 imperious and intractable master. Ismail was quite will- 
 ing that they should come in to relieve him from embar- 
 rassment, and to put such a plausible show on his affairs as 
 should enable him to borrow more money ; but he had no 
 idea of their placing a check on his extravagance ; and so, 
 after chafing for awhile under the restraint, he finally flew 
 into a passion, and told the Controllers to go about their 
 business, and he would manage the finances himself, upon 
 which they appealed to their Governments, who addressed 
 themselves to the Sultan, who joohtely told the Khedive to 
 go about his business, who thereupon embarked with his 
 harem for Naples, where for three years he has had abun- 
 dant leisure to contemplate the situation. 
 
 That, in short, is the whole story of the Anglo-French 
 Control. It was certainly an awkward arrangement, but 
 still, as a temporary expedient, it did immense good. But 
 like many other good things, it ran into an abuse. The 
 Egyptians felt that it was pretty hard to have to pay 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 11 
 
 interest on a debt of nearly a hundred millions sterling, 
 contracted at an enormous discount, of which the country 
 had received probably not more than fifty per cent. 
 
 But this was not all. The Controllers, finding that they 
 had what some would call “ a fat place,” imported a swarm 
 of foreign officials, to whom they gave the other “fat” 
 places in the financial administration. No sooner was it 
 fairly established in power, than it virtually took possession, 
 not only of the Control of the Finances, but of all the de- 
 partments of the Government. In the household of the 
 Khedive there were French and Italian secretaries and 
 masters of ceremonies, while Englishmen were employed 
 on the railways and in the postal service. There was 
 the same mingling of nations in the departments of jus- 
 tice and of the interior ; in the army and in the police ; 
 in the arsenals and military schools ; in short, every- 
 where. A list carefully prepared showed that there were 
 nearly fourteen hundred foreign officials employed in one 
 post and another in the Egyptian Government. A large 
 part of these obtained their positions by the removal of 
 native officials, who in many cases were quite as well 
 qualified as these foreign intruders. General Stone said 
 to me, “ Here come these English and French Controllers, 
 who have not only taken the great offices to themselves, 
 with enormous salaries, but have placed under them a large 
 number of foreign subordinates. As one illustration of 
 what they are doing, they have in many instances removed 
 the Copts, who have been scribes in the land from the days 
 of Joseph, and who were the best men to be found for the 
 minor posts of the government, to do the work of special 
 bureaus in the different departments, and filled their places 
 with Englishmen imported from India — ‘old Indians’ — 
 who have been worn out in that country, and now find 
 Egypt a new field of operations. These swarm upon us 
 
12 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 like a plague of locusts, and eat out the substance of the 
 land. No wonder that intelligent Egyptians are indig- 
 nant.” This testimony might be received with some abate- 
 ment, because General Stone had been for years the Chief 
 of Staff to the Khedive, and his sympathies were strongly 
 with the Egyptians. But similar language was used by 
 the American Consul and by all the American residents 
 with whom I conversed. They felt that this virtual appro- 
 priation of the government by foreign Controllers, was a 
 gross abuse of trust ; that it was a “ spoiling of the Egyp- 
 tians,” which they could only regard with disgust and in- 
 dignation. 
 
 Certainly it was a great injustice ; but let the blame 
 fall where it belongs. The odium has been thrown upon 
 England, when a careful inquiry shows that it was not the 
 English but the French who took the lion’s share of the 
 spoils. Not long since a paper was presented to the House 
 of Commons, giving an accurate report of the number of 
 British subjects in the service of Egypt, which, to the sur- 
 prise of the public, showed that there were three or four 
 times as many Frenchmen as Englishmen. Among the 
 foreign officials it was found also that there was a large 
 number of Italians, besides a libera! sprinkling of Germans, 
 Roumanians, Greeks, and Syrians. 
 
 While the French and English took the financial posi- 
 tions, the Turks took the high places in the army. One 
 cannot understand Egyptian politics without recognizing 
 the fact that Arabs are not Turks ; indeed no two peoples 
 regard each other with more intense dislike. They may 
 unite to fight against the infidel ; but left to themselves, 
 they would fight with each other, as they did in the days 
 of Mehemet Ali. And yet as Egypt is subject to Turkey, 
 all the best places in its army have been held by aliens, 
 whom the Egyptians at once hate and despise. The 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 13 
 
 poor fellaheen furnished the rank and file, hut all the offi- 
 cers were Turks or Circassians. Thus the Egyptians were 
 ground between the upper and the nether millstone. 
 There was no place for them in the army except as com- 
 mon soldiers, nor in any department of the Government. 
 They could only be hewers of wood or drawers of water 
 to their foreign masters. Out of this double or triple 
 grievance — this Anglo-French-Turkish oppression — grew 
 up the National Party of Egypt : a party which was in- 
 spired chiefly by jealousy of foreigners, against whom it 
 raised the rallying cry of “ Egypt for the Egyptians.” 
 
 The first demonstration that brought Arabi Bey to the 
 front as the leader of the National or military party, was not 
 against the English or the French, but against the Turks. 
 In making some promotions in the army, the Minister of 
 War, who was himself a Turk, had given every position of 
 importance to a Turk or a Circassian, utterly ignoring the 
 Arabs, who naturally resented this public degradation, and 
 against which Arabi, who was then but a Bey (a Colonel), 
 and two others of the same rank, united in making a re- 
 spectful but decided protest. For this remonstrance they 
 were summoned to the Ministry of War. They obeyed, but 
 suspecting foul play, left word with their regiments, if they 
 did not return in two hours, to come and release them by 
 force. At the War Office they were immediately placed 
 under arrest, and as they did not return, their regiments, 
 true to the command, appeared in arms and broke open the 
 doors, and drove out the Minister of War, releasing their 
 Colonels, and carrying them off in triumph. The Khedive, 
 instead of punishing them, condoned their offence, and 
 showed that he rather sympathized with their sense of 
 wrong, by dismissing the obnoxious Minister. 
 
 Of course a man who had thus bearded the lion in his 
 den, became immensely popular with the army. He was 
 
14 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 regarded as the champion of his race. But his success 
 was his danger, as it tempted him to resort on all occasions 
 to military force. The next demonstration was a more for- 
 midable one, being aimed not at an obnoxious individual, 
 but at the whole Ministry, and even at the Khedive himself. 
 On the 9th of September, Arabi appeared at the head of 
 three regiments well armed, with batteries of Krupp guns, 
 with which he marched to the Abdine Palace in Cairo, 
 around which the troops formed with loaded cannon, while 
 Arabi with his staff rode forward to the presence of the 
 Khedive, who stood on the steps of the Palace, and who drew 
 himself up with an appearance of calmness and courage, 
 while the English Controller, who stood by him, leaned over 
 and whispered to him that he should order the rebel to be 
 shot ; but as the Khedive himself would have been blown 
 to atoms in an instant, and his English adviser with him, 
 he prudently refrained, and instead asked what <the army 
 wanted. Arabi replied, not in the tone of one who offers 
 a petition, but who issues an order, that they demanded 
 three things : that the Ministry should be dismissed ; that 
 the pay of the army should be increased ; and that an 
 Egyptian Parliament should be summoned to prepare a 
 constitution for the country. The Ministers, who were 
 standing by, saw the hopelessness of resistance, and as- 
 sented to their own dismissal, which the Khedive accorded 
 on the spot ; to the other two demands he could not as- 
 sent without referring them to the Sultan. 
 
 The result was a triumph : the main point had been 
 gained, which would carry the others with it, at which 
 Arabi bowed, the military saluted, and marched off the 
 ground with bands playing in all the exultation of victory. 
 ' In all these proceedings the Americans had taken no part. 
 They had no share in the Financial Control, and had neither 
 interest in, nor sympathy with, any measures which seemed 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 15 
 
 oppressive or unjust ; and though they could not but look 
 upon the mode of redress by armed force as a very high- 
 handed proceeding, yet they sympathized with the National 
 party to this extent, that they thought that the Egyptians 
 were very hardly treated ; that they had been crowded to the 
 wall ; and that the course of France and England towards 
 Egypt, had not been worthy of two powerful nations 
 dealing with a country that was both weak and poor. 
 The knowledge of this sympathy, which was openly ex- 
 pressed, made our countrymen very popular in Cairo ; 
 the people appreciated their friendly feeling ; they knew 
 that we had not meddled in their affairs, and had no 
 part in the oppressive taxation under which they were 
 suffering ; and we were often entertained by hearing 
 their bands strike up our national airs. The culmination 
 of this era of good feeling was at a public demonstration 
 on Washington’s birthday, which our Consul, with General 
 Stone and some Americans passing the Winter here, thought 
 it would be a pleasant thing to celebrate. Accordingly 
 they got up a grand dinner at our Hotel, to which they in- 
 vited all the Ministers of the Khedive. It is not a com- 
 mon thing to see this mingling of Arabs and Eiu’opeans, 
 but it would not have excited remark were it not that re- 
 cent events- led many to regard it as a political demonstra- 
 tion, and indeed some who were in official positions felt 
 constrained not to take part in it lest their action might be 
 so interpreted. 
 
 However, the dinner came off, and proved an unique 
 affair. It brought together a distinguished company. All 
 the Ministers of the Khedive were present, among whom 
 the greatest curiosity was manifested to see Arabi Bey, the 
 leader in the recent military movement. In leading the 
 army against the Government, he was guilty of an in- 
 subordination, for which, had Ismail Pacha been still 
 
16 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 Khedive, and felt strong enough, he would undoubtedly 
 have been shot. But in such cases the character of the 
 act is generally judged by its success, and as Arabi Bey 
 had the army at his back, instead of being executed, he 
 was now Minister of War and virtual dictator of Egypt. 
 I was interested to see a man who had acted such a part, 
 and who might be destined either to supreme power or to 
 death, and observed him closely. He is a man of large 
 physique, with a face that is not at all intellectual, but 
 heavy, except his eye, which looks as though it might flash 
 fire if he were once aroused. But his manner was very 
 quiet, and his few words when I conversed with him through 
 an interpreter, were such as might be uttered by any patri- 
 otic man. He said he had come out that evening, though 
 not well, to do honor to the memory of a man who had 
 freed his country from a foreign yoke, perhaps thinking in 
 himself that what Washington had done for America, he 
 might do for Egypt. 
 
 Besides the Americans present, there were a number of 
 Europeans, whose titles and decorations showed that they 
 were men of high position. Of these, the most distin- 
 guished was M. de Lesseps, who, in spite of his ad- 
 vanced age, is still full of life and energy, and has all the 
 ardor and the hopefulness of youth. 
 
 After an hour of pleasant conversation, the company 
 adjourned to the large dining-room, which had been deco- 
 rated with flags, in which those of America and Egypt 
 were everywhere conspicuous. The tables were loaded 
 with flowers. During the whole evening the band of the 
 Khedive, which was stationed under the windows, played 
 American airs. The Consul-General presided, having on 
 his right Mr. William Walter Phelps, our Minister to 
 Vienna, who had arrived that day on his way up the Nile, 
 and next to him Mahmoud Pacha, the Prime Minister of the 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 17 
 
 Khedive ; and on the other side the Finance Minister, and 
 next to him Arabi Bey, now Minister of War, to whom I sat | 
 directly opposite, and had opportunity to observe him the 
 whole evening. I was struck with the gravity of his man- 
 ner, which was serious almost to sadness. While all round 
 the tables the company was merry and gay, he sat silent, 
 as one absorbed in thought. I do not think he smiled the 
 whole evening. Nor did he take a drop of wine. While 
 Europeans and Americans were drinking freely, his glasses 
 remained untouched. In this, as in his prayers'* and fast- 
 ings, he is a devout Moslem, and conforms to the strictest 
 rules of his religion. Yet there was nothing sullen in his 
 manner, as if he would cast a silent reproach on the pleas- 
 ures which he could not enjoy. On the contrary, he pre- 
 served the forms of Oriental courtesy, and whenever our 
 eyes met across the table, he touched his breast and fore- 
 head, as if by this token he would give me the kiss of 
 peace. Such was the man who was soon to be at the head 
 of Egypt, not only of the army, but of the state — the 
 leader in a war, and the captive of England. 
 
 Of course there could be no American dinner without 
 toasts and speeches. General Stone proposed “ The Mem- 
 ory of Washington,” which was honored as usual by all 
 rising and standing in silence. Next came “ The Presi- 
 dent of the United States,” to which there was a response 
 which, reviewing the sad events of the year, paid a deserved 
 tribute to our martyred President, and expressed generous 
 hopes for his successor. To the name of “ The Khedive,” 
 Mahmoud Pacha replied in Arabic. One of the Chamber 
 of Notables also spoke in the same language, and an officer 
 translated his words into French. A distinguished German 
 editor, Mr. Sonnemann of Frankfort, responded for “ The 
 Press,” eulogizing the Press of America as surpassing in 
 enterprise and independence the Press of Europe. M. de 
 
18 
 
 EGYPT IN' THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 Lesseps was called up, and spoke, of course in liis own 
 language, witli a force and energy that awakened great 
 enthusiasm. He said he had traversed America from New 
 York to San Francisco, and had visited everywhere the 
 schools, to which he attached the greatest importance, 
 especially to the schools for women, which he said were 
 the foundation of the greatness of America. This was 
 strange language to be spoken in the presence of an assem- 
 bly of Moslems ! All the expressions of fee lin g were in 
 the friendliest spirit. One speaker ended with this rhetor- 
 ical flourish, in which the compliments were pretty evenly 
 balanced between Egypt and America : 
 
 “ In the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia there was 
 a Department assigned to Egypt, over which was written 
 ‘From the oldest of nations to the youngest.’ That greeting 
 we now return, presenting the best wishes of the youngest 
 of nations to the oldest. Americans have many attractions 
 to Egypt. Hundreds of our people come here every Winter, 
 to enjoy your climate, to sail up the Nile, to see your monu- 
 ments, your temples and pyramids. How can we but wish 
 well to a country where we have had so delightful, though 
 but a temporary, home ? 
 
 “ I see before me distinguished representatives of the Arab 
 race, one of the great races of the world, which has played a 
 mighty part in history — and not only in the history of Asia 
 and Africa, but of Europe also, for scholars cannot forget 
 that there was a time when the Arabs, carrying their con- 
 quests along the northern shores of Africa, crossed into 
 Spain, where they remained hundreds of years, and where 
 they founded the Universities of Seville and Cordova, and 
 were the masters of learning for Western Europe. A race 
 which has had such a place in the past, surely has reason to 
 anticipate a great career in the future. 
 
 “ So do we believe in the continued vitality of Egypt. 
 Superficial travellers may think its only interest is from 
 what it has been in the past, from its pyramids, its tem- 
 ples, and its tombs. But is there nothing of Egypt but its 
 sepulchres ? I see around me a living Egypt, in which there 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 19 
 
 are elements of growth, which promise to restore at least a 
 portion of its former greatness. That all this may be real- 
 ized, is the ardent wish of America. Across the world of 
 waters that rolls between us — across the Atlantic and the 
 Mediterranean — she sends her greeting to her elder sister of 
 the Orient. As in the ages past, so in the ages to come may 
 the Nile, rising in the Highlands of Central Africa, continue 
 to pour down its annual flood, spreading over the land of 
 Egypt fertility and abundance ; and so long may this beau- 
 tiful country be the home of aprosperous and happy people. ” 
 
 If the speaker could have foreseen the events of the 
 next few months, he might have been less sanguine of the 
 future of the Arab race, but he certainly would not have 
 abated anything of his good wishes for Egypt. 
 
 The last speech was by Mr. Phelps, who mingled wis- 
 dom and wit in such a way as put everybody in the happi- 
 est mood, and the company broke up while the band played 
 Hail Columbia and the Star-spangled Banner. 
 
 If fine words could make fair weather, the troubles of 
 Egypt ought to have vanished with the darkness of the 
 night ; but although the sun rose the next morning over 
 the Mokattam hills without a cloud, the political sky was 
 as dark and threatening as ever. Weeks passed, and 
 affairs grew “no better” very fast. Change succeeded to 
 change, yet none brought the desired relief. The sym- 
 pathy of Americans was still with the National party to 
 this extent, that they felt that the country had a substantial 
 grievance in the enormous burden of debt and of taxation 
 which had been rolled upon it, and in the swarm of foreign 
 officials which eat out its substance — a grievance against 
 which it was a matter of loyalty and of patriotism to pro- 
 test with the utmost energy. Nor was this feeling confined 
 to Americans : so far as I could learn, it was the sentiment 
 of all foreigners in Cairo, except those who were directly 
 or indirectly interested in the maintenance of the Control. 
 
20 
 
 EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1382. 
 
 But the best cause may be ruined by folly or by vio- 
 lence. If the National party had been what a party is in 
 other countries — if it had limited itself to a firm, manly 
 protest against abuses — it would have had the sympathy 
 and support of all the friends of good government through- 
 out Europe and in America. But they do not do things 
 in that way in Egypt. There are no political parties such 
 as exist in England and in America, which can give effect 
 to public indignation. The Arabs do not understand our 
 way of expressing discontent, by holding public meetings 
 and passing resolutions. The only organized body is the 
 army, so that a political movement, to carry any force with 
 it, becomes almost of necessity a military movement. It 
 is so much easier to make changes in the Mexican way, 
 by a pronunciamento and a military demonstration, than 
 by the slow process of petitioning and protesting. Why 
 should they take this roundabout way of carrying out their 
 will, when it was only necessary to march on the Palace ? 
 As the poor Khedive was wholly unsupported, he had 
 nothing to do but to submit. The Anglo-French Control- 
 lers of course protested vigorously, but as they had not a 
 soldier at their back, Arabi Bey, at the head of his regi- 
 ments, laughed them to scorn. 
 
 This military remedy for the evils of the state, though 
 at first it seemed quite Napoleonic, at last became weari- 
 some, and Americans ceased to regard it with enthusiasm. 
 The heroic treatment in disease sometimes cures, but not 
 unfrequently kills ; and so it might be with the unhappy 
 state on which these army surgeons were making such ter- 
 rible experiments. We began to suspect that these new 
 leaders, who raised the cry of “ Egypt for the Egyptians,” 
 meant only Egypt for themselves. They did not show such 
 unselfish patriotism as lifted them above the mass of their 
 countrymen. They were just as full of intrigue, and just 
 
EGYPT IN THE SPRING OF 1882. 
 
 21 
 
 as eager for power — in short, just as thorough Arabs — as 
 the men whom they had displaced, while they showed a 
 childish incapacity for government, putting up one day 
 what they pulled down the next. This was not a gov- 
 ernment based on political principles, or even a govern- 
 ment of party, but a government of mere caprice. They 
 dictated to the Khedive the Ministers he should appoint, 
 and then deposed the men of their own creation. This 
 was repeated so often that it created in the foreign com- 
 munity a general feeling of insecurity. The Egyptian 
 leaders themselves seemed to have a sense of their suc- 
 cessive failures ; but this, instead of leading them to adopt 
 a more conciliatory policy, only enraged them to the point 
 of taking still more desperate measures. They could go 
 to any length, for there was no restraint upon their power. 
 But one thing they could not do — they could not inspire 
 confidence. The more changes they made, the more did 
 they stir up uneasiness and alarm ; and when at last it 
 came to the point that troops surrounded the Palace, and 
 gave the Khedive only till a certain hour in which to make 
 his submission, with orders to fire upon him in case he 
 refused, the best friends of Egypt said, This is Revolution ! 
 They saw that the country was drifting into hopeless anar- 
 chy ; that the temper of the people was becoming more 
 sullen ; that the worst elements of the Arab nature were 
 aroused, and would soon get beyond control. All the 
 dangers which we fondly hoped were past, came back 
 again more threatening than before. The temporary tran- 
 quillity which we had enjoyed was but the lull before the 
 storm. 
 
CHAPTER H. 
 
 EXGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 “What business have the English in Egypt?” is a ques- 
 tion often asked since the recent events. Without assum- 
 ing to speak for those who are well able to speak for 
 themselves, there are some plain principles of justice which 
 must occur - to all candid minds, and which may furnish at 
 least a partial answer. Englishmen as individuals have 
 just the same rights in Egypt which Americans have — no 
 more and no less. We claim the right of going to Egypt, 
 as we would go to France or Italy, and as long as we go 
 quietly about our business, of having the protection of its 
 laws. Certainly it is not unreasonable to insist that the 
 Egyptian Government shall see to it that American citizens 
 are protected in life and property, that they are not robbed 
 or assassinated. If, in spite of all assurances of protection, 
 they are robbed or murdered, the very least their Govern- 
 ment can do is to make a demand, respectful but deter- 
 mined, that the robbers or murderers shall be punished. 
 The most violent denouncers of English intervention can 
 hardly deny that in this respect Englishmen have the same 
 rights as Americans. But there was a time not many 
 months ago when neither an Englishman nor an American 
 could show himself anywhere in Egypt without danger of 
 being both robbed and murdered ; when the streets of 
 Cairo and of Alexandria were as unsafe as if one were 
 among the cannibals of New Guinea or the head-hunters 
 of Borneo. 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 23 
 
 Then ensued a veritable panic — a feeling almost as if 
 a reign of terror bad begun. Foreign consuls warned 
 their countrymen that they could no longer be responsi- 
 ble for their- safety, and advised them to get out of the 
 country. To protect them as far as possible, the French 
 and English fleets were ordered to Alexandria. This, 
 in the opinion of many, was a fatal mistake. But for 
 this, it is said, there would have been no massacre and 
 no bombardment. This inflamed the feeling of the Arab 
 population to the highest point, and precipitated the ter- 
 rible events which followed. This is possible, and yet, 
 looking at it calmly, I cannot see that England and 
 France did any more than they ought to have done, or 
 that there was any sufficient cause to rouse a populace to 
 such rage and fury. 
 
 Let us make the case our own. Suppose for some 
 cause — not our own fault, some action of our Govern- 
 ment — Americans were suddenly to become unpopular in 
 Mexico, so much so that American residents in Vera Cruz 
 felt that their lives were not safe, and that for their protec- 
 tion the squadron in the Gulf of Mexico were ordered to 
 that port. Would that have been an offence to the majesty 
 of Mexico sufficient to justify, or to excuse, the Mexicans 
 if they should rise and massacre every American whom 
 they could find in their streets ? Or suppose they should 
 begin to throw up earthworks, and train their guns on our 
 ships, should we strike our flag, and steal ignominiously 
 out of the harbor ? On the contrary, I think an American 
 Admiral would have done just what the English Admiral 
 did — that he would not have lifted an anchor under the 
 compulsion of threats, but stayed where he was, and taken 
 the consequences. The fleet was lying quietly in the har- 
 bor of Alexandria, not a gun had been fired, when there 
 occurred in that city one of the most atrocious massacres 
 
24 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 of modem times. Hundreds of Europeans were hunted 
 down in the streets, clubbed to death or bayoneted : for 
 soldiers, whose business it was to keep order, took part in 
 the cowardly butchery. 
 
 Of this savage outbreak, a great many explanations 
 have been offered. But we sometimes go very far round 
 to find a reason for an act or an event, when the cause 
 lies on the surface. The real cause was not a politi- 
 cal one, not a sense of injury at the action of France or 
 England, but the natural temper of the people. On board 
 our ship from Naples to Alexandria was a gentleman who 
 had been the French Consul at the latter port for more 
 than twenty years ; and to my inquiry for his opinion of 
 the people among whom he had lived so long, he answered 
 almost savagely, “ Les Arabes sont betes feroces!” That 
 tells the whole story. There is in the Arab nature an ele- 
 ment of ferocity that may well liken them to wild beasts. 
 It is a feeling compounded of hatred of foreigners and 
 religious fanaticism, which only needs to be let loose from 
 restraint to lead them to any act of violence and blood. It 
 was with such a population that England had to deal. 
 
 From the moment of the massacre, the relations of 
 England and Egypt were changed. It was no longer a 
 question of Anglo-French Control. The blood of mur- 
 dered Englishmen cried from the stones of the streets of 
 Alexandria, and called for punishment. It is said that we 
 must not hold either the government or the people respon- 
 sible for what was merely the act of a mob. Certainly not, if 
 either government or people at once disclaim all sympathy 
 with the atrocious crime, and make haste to punish the per- 
 petrators. For this measure of atonement England waited 
 patiently, but none came. To be sure, the military party 
 made a show of virtuous indignation. Hundreds were 
 arrested, but not a man was punished. By the course of 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 25 
 
 double-dealing and excuses for delay, it became evident 
 that tlie sympathy of the army and the people was with 
 those who perpetrated the massacre, and not with their 
 unhappy victims. It then became necessary for England 
 to take the matter into her own hands. 
 
 That Arabi Pacha was in any way responsible for 
 the massacre is not pretended, for he was at the time 
 in Cairo. But that he felt a keen regret for it, or 
 that he took any decided measures to punish its per- 
 petrators, I find no evidence. I fear that he was in 
 this like his race — a true Arab in duplicity. He has 
 shown many points of his character since that evening 
 when I sat opposite to him at Cairo, and he touched his 
 breast and forehead, and gave me the kiss of peace. He 
 has been lifted up to a higher position, as the head not 
 only of the army, but of the state. Perhaps I can judge 
 him better now, can see him in his true proportions, and 
 form a clearer idea of the real greatness or littleness of the 
 man. I would judge him justly, with full recognition of 
 all in him that is worthy of respect. I do not by any 
 means regard him as a light and trifling character, to be 
 dismissed with a sneer. He is a man of courage and 
 capacity. No man could place himself at the head of a 
 great national movement, as he has done, who did not pos- 
 sess both. Nor is he merely puffed up with conceit and 
 vanity, with no serious purpose. There is in him an ele- 
 ment of religious fanaticism, which makes him in dead 
 earnest in anything he undertakes. Whatever education 
 he has was obtained at the University of El Azhar in Cairo, 
 which is the very centre and focus of Moslem fanaticism. 
 One who was a fellow-student with him there, tells me that 
 he was very religious and devout. Such a man is not a 
 contemptible enemy. As to his patriotism, I neither dis- 
 pute it nor doubt it, although I am very incredulous of 
 
26 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 patriotism among Moslems and Arabs — at least the word 
 lias to be understood in a peculiar way. Patriotism has 
 its types, as it appears among different nations. The Bed- 
 aween are intensely patriotic, though their only country is 
 the desert. Every sheik is jealous for his tribe — that is, 
 within its territory he is not willing that anybody should 
 have the privilege of robbing but himself. In Mexico 
 every man who makes a revolution is a patriot — that is, he 
 believes (honestly, no doubt) that the good of the country 
 requires that he should be the head of the state, and he 
 gets up a revolution to carry out that patriotic purpose. 
 Whether the patriotism of the Egyptian leader has any 
 higher character than this, may be doubted. He seems to be 
 compounded in about equal parts of three elements, which 
 are the master-passions of his nature— hatred of foreign- 
 ers, religious fanaticism, and personal ambition. These 
 different impulses are so mixed up in him, that prob- 
 ably he does not know one from another. He does not 
 stop to analyze his motives (the Arab intellect is not 
 given to such fine distinctions), and so he might well think 
 he was acting from one when he was really acting from 
 another. When he was seeking his own ambition, he be- 
 lieved he was seeking the good of his country, and even 
 doing God service : for it must be that Allah was pleased 
 that honor should come to such a faithful servant. What a 
 happy conjunction of circumstances, whereby he was able 
 at one and the same moment to serve God, his country, 
 and himself ! We have no doubt that he wished Egypt to 
 be independent of all foreign control — of the control of 
 Turkey as well as of France and England, however he 
 might profess loyalty to the Sultan, and then he would have 
 liked to be the head of this independent African State. 
 That is all that we can find in Arabi Pacha. Of such a 
 man we cannot make, in any exalted sense, either a patriot 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 27 
 
 or a prophet, a restorer of Islam or a savior of his country. 
 
 The massacre took place on the 11th of June ; the bom- 
 bardment followed on the 11th of July. One whole month 
 England was waiting for some atonement for that horrible 
 outrage, some show of a disposition to punish such bar- 
 barity and crime. But instead of that, the military party, 
 which was now in full power, felt not so much shame at 
 this inhuman massacre as annoyance at the continued pres- 
 ence of English ships in the harbor. They had a perfect 
 right to be there, as American ships would have had a right 
 to be there if Americans had been massacred in the streets 
 of Alexandria ; and if punishment had been so long de- 
 layed that the authorities, instead of punishing, seemed 
 to justify the act, and to make it their own. Instead of 
 seizing and punishing the murderers, they began to plot 
 to drive out the fleet. If they had had torpedoes, they 
 would have blown up the ironclads. As it was, they could 
 only throw up breastworks and plant guns, with the plain 
 intent, as soon as they were strong enough, to open fire. 
 Now it is not in human nature, least of all in the military 
 nature, to see such preparations for attack with a tranquil 
 mind ; and Arabi Pacha was politely requested to desist. 
 Not only did the English Admiral request this, but the 
 Khedive and the Sultan commanded it. The wily Arab 
 professed compliance, and declared that all mounting of 
 guns had been stopped ; but when an electric light from 
 the fleet was turned on the forts, the men were found as 
 busily at work as ever. After this discovery of falsehood 
 and treachery, the Admiral thought it prudent to take 
 some other security than the word of a Moslem. 
 
 And so at last the war was begun. On Tuesday morn- 
 ing, the 11th of July, the English fleet commenced the 
 bombardment of Alexandria, and in a few hours silenced 
 the forts, and that afternoon or the next morning took 
 
23 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 possession. "When we heard that the first gun had "been 
 fired, it was with a feeling of relief. The conflict was 
 inevitable, and as it had to come, the sooner it came the 
 better : for the sooner it began, the sooner it would be 
 over, and thus an end be put to a state of things which 
 was the ruin of Egypt, while it was a source of perplexity 
 and uneasiness to all Europe. War is a terrible thing, but 
 there are things worse than war. Anarchy is worse. Bet- 
 ter a conflict on the battlefield or on the sea than such fi 
 state of things, that part of a city’s population was in 
 daily fear of massacre ; that an European dare not walk 
 the streets lest he should be the object of insult or of per- 
 sonal violence ; and that the few remaining residents who 
 could not flee were obliged to seek for safety by barricad- 
 ing themselves within their houses, with the dreadful pros- 
 pect of having to fight with an infuriated rabble, intent on 
 pillage and fierce for blood. 
 
 When it came to the point of actual hostilities, it 
 pleased some who could see nothing in the course of 
 England but injustice and oppression, to speak of it as 
 a war against Egypt. Certainly it was a war in Egyptian 
 waters and on Egyptian soil ; but it was not a war against 
 the Egyptian government, but, on the contrary, in sup- 
 port of that government against an armed rebellion which 
 threatened to destroy it. To this intervention England 
 was bound by every sentiment of justice and honor : for 
 she had been the adviser, and as it were the protector, of 
 the Khedive. Indeed it was because he was thought to 
 be too much under her influence and control, that he be- 
 came unpopular with the military party at home. After 1 
 leading him into a position of such difficulty and such 
 peril, it would have been an infamy to desert him in the 
 very crisis of his fate. That shame was not to be put 
 upon England. On the other hand, how loyally and faith- 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 20 
 
 fully she fulfilled her obligations to her ally, the world 
 knows. The pretence of a great patriotic movement in 
 Egypt, and a show of military power, were kept up until the 
 troops could arrive from England and from India, when, 
 on the 13th of September, starting a little after midnight, 
 they stole silently across the sands up to the strongly- 
 fortified position of the enemy, and as soon as daylight 
 began to appear, in the gray of the early morning, stormed 
 the intrenchments, and in one hour destroyed the whole 
 Egyptian army. The collapse was complete ; the defeat 
 became a rout ; men and horses fled in wild dismay on the 
 road to Cairo, which the British troops entered the nest 
 day, cheered and welcomed by the very mob that, if it 
 had felt strong enough, would have revelled with fiendish 
 delight in the massacre of every man of the regiments 
 that now marched through their streets. The Khedive 
 was brought back, and received with every demonstration 
 of enthusiastic loyalty ; while the conquering army camped 
 in the public squares. 
 
 The English being thus established in Egypt, the 
 public feeling of Europe and America is much exercised 
 as to how long they are to stay there. Hardly had they 
 entered Cairo before the Porte addressed a letter to Lord 
 Duliei'in, intimating that as the object of their expedition 
 was accomplished, there was no use for them to remain 
 any longer, and asking how soon they would leave the 
 country and return to England ? To this modest inquiry, 
 the accomplished diplomatist returned an answer, which it 
 is to be hoped gave satisfaction, to the effect that England 
 had no wish to prolong her occupation, but that she had 
 made great sacrifices to restore order in Egypt, and could 
 not leave the country until she had taken ample security 
 against a recurrence of the same state of anarchy — which, 
 being interpreted, signifies that the troops will remain just 
 
30 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 as long as it pleases the English government and people. 
 They may well be excused if they take their own time 
 about it, for if Englishmen, as individuals, have the 
 same rights in Egypt as Americans, yet beyond these 
 general rights, which are common to all foreigners, Eng- v 
 land as a country has some special claims to consideration. 
 England has fought for Egypt and for Turkey again and 
 again. Indeed it may be said that both owe to her their 
 continued existence. When Napoleon invaded Egypt 
 in 1798, he would have taken the country and kept it if 
 it had not been for England. The Egyptians could do 
 nothing : Napoleon swept away the Mamelukes at the Bat- 
 tle of the Pyramids. It was an English fleet under Lord 
 Nelson which fought the Battle of the Nile. It was an 
 English General, Sir Kalph Abercrombie, who gained the 
 final victory on land which drove the French out of Egypt. 
 Napoleon invaded Syria, and earned everything before 
 him till he encountered the English at Acre, who soon put 
 a stop to his victorious career. Again in 1831 Ibrahim 
 Pacha invaded Syria, and would have marched on Con- 
 stantinople if he had not been stopped by the European 
 powers. In 1851 England and France went to war with 
 Russia to preserve Turkey. Thus often has England fought 
 for Turkey and for Egypt, and the bones of her soldiers 
 who have fallen in defending those Moslem powers, are 
 scattered on many battlefields in three continents — in 
 Europe, in Asia, and in Africa. It is not yet five years 
 since England put forth her powerful hand to save Turkey, 
 which was at the feet of Russia. A Russian army was at 
 the gates of Constantinople, and could have entered the 
 city, and planted its guns on the heights overlooking the 
 Bosphorus, and the Russian flag might have waved from 
 all the minarets of the Turkish capital. When in that city 
 a few months since, a friend pointed out the position of the 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 31 
 
 Russian army, which was camped almost under tne walls, 
 and we asked, Why did it not march in and take full pos- 
 session ? The answer was, It was stopped by the English 
 fleet, which came' up the Dardanelles and through the Sea 
 of Marmora, and anchored in sight of Constantinople. The 
 Sultan, who has lately protested so energetically against an 
 English fleet in the harbor of Alexandria as an invasion of 
 his sovereign rights, was not at all disturbed at the sight 
 then, but on the contrary felt an immeasurable relief, as if 
 he had been reprieved from a sentence of death, when he 
 saw the flags of the great English ironclads from the win- 
 dows of his Palace. After thus saving both Turkey and 
 Egypt again and again, it is not a great presumption for 
 England to ask whether she has not some rights in the East 
 which Turk and Arab are bound to respect. 
 
 Besides all this, England has great material interests in 
 Egypt. We say nothing of the interest of bondholders, 
 of money loaned for internal improvements — for railroads 
 and canals, and piers and ports. This very harbor of 
 Alexandria, which has been the scene of such great events, 
 was built largely by English money. But leaving all 
 this, the interest of England in the Suez Canal is greater 
 than that of all the world beside. Eighty or ninety per 
 cent, of the ships that pass through that Canal, are Eng- 
 lish. It is the highway from England to India. The 
 distance from London or Liverpool to Bombay, is nearly 
 five thousand miles less by the Suez Canal than by the old 
 route around Africa. The control of this, therefore, is not 
 only a commercial convenience ; it is a military necessity. 
 Suppose there were another mutiny in India, and that 
 Arabi Pacha had command of the Suez Canal, and should 
 think it a good time to “ get even ” with England by stop- 
 ping all transit, and that the English troops should have to 
 be sent around by way of the Cape of Good Hope, the 
 
32 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 two or three weeks’ delay might cause the loss of the Eng- 
 lish Empire in India. Can England leave a matter of such 
 moment to the caprice of a military adventurer ? 
 
 In the presence of such interests, it is not difficult to 
 understand what England has been fighting for. Aside 
 from her obligations to the Khedive, she had immense in- 
 terests in Egypt, and Egypt was in a state of anarchy, 
 which threatened to destroy those interests. England was 
 fighting to put down that anarchy, and to restore order 
 and good government. In this she was fighting for the 
 real interest of Egypt as well as her own. If the recent 
 state of things continued, the country was ruined. The 
 only hope was in prompt and decisive action, which should 
 crush rebellion and reestablish order. At the same time, 
 England was fighting for the Suez Canal, as she would for 
 Malta and Gibraltar, as outworks of Britain, whose preser- 
 vation concerned the integrity of her mighty realm. 
 
 For these reasons, which might be enlarged to any 
 extent, it is clear that England had a right to send her 
 troops to Egypt to settle this business between a faithful 
 ally, the present Khedive (whom the military party would 
 sacrifice simply because he had been such a friend of Eng- 
 land), and his rebellious soldiers. She had a right to go 
 there, if she had a right to go anywhere, to fight for the 
 security of her Indian Empire. In the battle which she 
 undertook, she was fighting for our interests as well as her 
 own : to make it safe for Americans to visit Egypt, to go 
 up the Nile, and to pursue their lawful callings — their 
 travels, or their business affairs, or their missionary enter- 
 prises — in the East. 
 
 And so the English are masters of Cairo ! One more 
 victory for civilization ! To some this may seem a very 
 un-American sentiment. Do we not claim America for 
 the Americans, and should we not concede also, as a mat- 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 33 
 
 ter of simple justice, Egypt for the Egyptians ? But the 
 course of events has so drifted within a few months, and 
 so many new elements have come in to change the issue, 
 that “ Egypt for the Egyptians ” would now mean Egypt 
 to be given up to anarchy and ruin. It is not easy to 
 apportion praise or blame between nations any more than 
 between individuals. There may be wrong on both sides. 
 I am far from thinking England blameless in her dealings 
 with Egypt. In the matter of the Anglo-French Control, 
 there is much which an Englishman would wish to forget. 
 But that does not change the fact that when it came to 
 the point of war, the issue was sharply defined between 
 anarchy and order, between civilization and barbarism ; 
 and no friend of humanity could hesitate where to be- 
 stow his sympathies. It was precisely the same question 
 in Egypt which so often recurs to the traveller in India. 
 If we go back to the origin of English power in India, 
 the world can hardly furnish a case of greater spolia- 
 tion and robbery. All the denunciations of it by Burke 
 were fully deserved. And yet in the course of a hun- 
 dred years, things have so come round that to-day the 
 maintenance of English power is the security of order 
 and peace in India, and the hope of civilization in South- 
 ern Asia. And when I visited the Residency in Luck- 
 now, and walked over the holy ground where so many of 
 the best and bravest of England fought and fell, it was 
 with no divided sympathies between its defenders and the 
 murderous Sepoys that gathered round them for their de- 
 struction. No matter what were the wrongs suffered by 
 another generation of Hindoos from another generation 
 of Englishmen — that could not change the issue, that the 
 battle then being fought around those walls was a battle 
 between European civilization and Asiatic barbarism. And 
 the same tin-ill of joy and pride that shot through every 
 
34 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 vein at the story of the coining of Havelock to the relief of 
 the beleaguered garrison of Lucknow, now returned when 
 I read of the Highlanders inarching up the heights and 
 taking possession of the Citadel of Cairo. 
 
 The war is over, but what shall come after it ? That is • 
 the question which now troubles Europe and the East. 
 As England has had to fight the battle alone, she is en- 
 titled to consider, first of all, her own security and pro- 
 tection. She can no longer leave the control of the Suez 
 Canal, and with it her communications with India, to the 
 mercy of any military usurper, who by getting control 
 of the army, may be master of Egypt — only for a few 
 weeks, it may be, yet long enough to work irremediable 
 injury to the commerce of the world. How is this security 
 to be obtained ? Years ago Bismarck advised England to 
 take Egypt and keep it. Mr. Gladstone disavows any such 
 purpose, and no doubt with the utmost sincerity. But 
 what may not be a matter of design, may be a matter of 
 necessity. If it were so, it would be the best possible thing 
 for that country. But the same end may be accomplished 
 by England assuming a protectorate over Egypt, while 
 leaving the Khedive as its nominal ruler. 
 
 As for Turkey, she has done nothing, and should get 
 nothing. Indeed her part has been worse than nothing. 
 Her whole course from the beginning has been one of 
 falsehood and treachery. The Sultan encouraged the re- 
 volt of Arabi Pacha, and sent him a decoration at the very 
 time that he was in arms against the Khedive, only to de- 
 nounce him as a rebel as soon as (and not a moment be- 
 fore) it became evident that his cause was lost! The 
 proper return for this duplicity would be that the Sultan 
 should lose his hold in Africa. If, as the outcome of this 
 war, the connection of Egypt with Turkey could be sev- 
 ered forever, the end would be worth all that it has cost. 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 35 
 
 France too can expect to reap little benefit from a war 
 fought wholly by England. No great power ever acted a 
 more contemptible part. After sending her fleet to Alexan- 
 dria, then to withdraw it at the very moment when the affair 
 threatened to become serious, and to sail away without 
 firing a gun, was an exhibition of weakness such as hardly 
 ever was given by a nation jealous of its military reputa- 
 tion and glory. After this, it is pitiful to read how, as 
 soon as the English entered Cairo, the French officials 
 came flocking back, like vultures to their prey ; and that 
 the French Controller reappeared on the scene, asking, in 
 a surprised and injured tone, and with an assurance that 
 was peculiarly French, why he was not invited to attend 
 the meeting of the Ministers of the Khedive, as one of 
 his recognized advisers ! This bustling official soon re- 
 ceived his quietus in a notice issued by the government, 
 addressed not to him alone, but to all the powers, that 
 the Foreign Control was abolished ! France found that 
 she could not leave it to England to fight the battle, and 
 she come in to reap the fruits of victory. This is not 
 the least of the good results of the war, that the Control, 
 which has been such an offence to Egypt, and such a scan- 
 dal to the world, is to cease to exist ; and that England 
 and France will no longer appear in the character of 
 bailiffs engaged in the collection of private debts. 
 
 But it is not only the fate of Egypt that is at stake, but 
 in some degree of all the East. It is a strange comment 
 on our ideas of the natural progress of society or of civili- 
 zation, that the border-land between Asia and Africa, which 
 had on either side of it the greatest empires of antiquity, 
 is to this day overrun by half-savage tribes — true sons of 
 tlshmacl, whose hand is against every man, and every man’s 
 hand against them. If indeed civilization is ever to invade 
 those waste places of the earth — if law and order are to 
 
36 
 
 ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 subdue the children of the desert, and make their roving- 
 ground as safe from robbers as the sea is from pirates — it 
 must be by the pressure of something stronger than Egyp- 
 tian or Turkish power. This is a matter which concerns, 
 not England alone, but all commercial nations as well, which 
 have communication with the far East, and which, coming 1 
 and going, have to traverse these desolate plains, that have 
 been given up hitherto, in more senses than one, to the 
 spirit of destruction. 
 
 And perhaps it would not be impertinent to inquire 
 just at this time, whether Christendom has any rights in 
 the East which Moslems are bound to respect ? It is not a 
 pleasant thing for the English or American traveller to find 
 the land which was the cradle of his religion under the 
 dominion of the Turk ; to have the burial-place of Abra- 
 ham, Isaac, and Jacob covered by a mosque, which no 
 Christian may enter ; to see the Mosque of Omar standing 
 on the ancient site of the Temple of Solomon ; and to find 
 even the spots connected with the life and death of our 
 Saviour — the place of His birth in the Church of the Na- 
 tivity at Bethlehem, and of His burial in the Church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem — guarded by those who de- 
 spise the very name of Christ. 
 
 Now we do not propose to preach a crusade for the 
 recovery of the Holy Sepulchre ; but we may be permitted 
 to rejoice when, in the course of events, an end can be put 
 to the humiliations of centuries. This can only be by a 
 manifestation of superiority so great as to compel Arab 
 and Turk to treat Christian powers and Christian peoples 
 with common decency and respect. For we may as well 
 understand first as last, that however much may be said of 
 Oriental hospitality, yet to all true Mussulmans, in their 
 hearts the foreigner, the Giaour, is an object of hatred, 
 whom it would be doing God service to destroy. The 
 
ENGLAND IN EGYPT. 
 
 37 
 
 American missionaries who were in Constantinople during 
 the Russian war, told me that they could tell how the battle 
 was going by the looks of the people ; that every change 
 was reflected in their faces ; that when there was a report 
 of Turkish victories, the populace at once became insolent 
 toward foreigners, whom their fierce countenances seemed 
 to say that they would be glad to massacre ; but when the 
 news came of the fall of Plevna, and the rapid march of 
 the Russians on Constantinople, they collapsed into abject 
 terror. A people of such a mood and temper are always 
 safest when they are kept under the restraint of over- 
 whelming power. 
 
 Seeing that such issues are depending on the action 
 now to be taken, may we not say that there are interests 
 involved higher than those either of England or of Egypt — 
 the interests of Christendom and of civilization in the East ? 
 England has an opportunity to strike a blow at barbarism 
 such as is not given to a nation in a hundred years. Our 
 only fear is that she may weakly consent to give up her 
 advantages, and thus lose by diplomacy what she has 
 gained in war. If so, the latter end of this movement 
 will be as impotent as its progress hitherto has been 
 glorious. If she fails to complete what she has begun — 
 if, after subduing the military revolt and restoring order, 
 she abandons the country — it will quickly relapse into its 
 former anarchy. Then indeed will ten devils enter in where 
 one was driven out, and the last state of that country will 
 be worse than the first. Let her not by any weak compli- 
 ances throw away an opportunity such as may never be 
 hers again. “ Who knoweth but she has come to the king- 
 dom for such a time as this ? ” The future of Egypt, 
 and to a large extent of the whole East, is now in the 
 hands of England, and may God give her wisdom and 
 firmness to do her duty ! 
 
CHAPTER m. 
 
 THE FIRST DAT ON THE DESERT. 
 
 I did not come to Egypt to study politics or war, 
 although the extraordinary interest of recent events has 
 led me to refer to both, even to the extent of anticipating 
 what took place after we left Cairo. History has been 
 making so rapidly within the last few months, that even 
 the passing traveller could not go over the scene where so 
 much has transpired, without at least a brief outline of 
 events which may change the face of the Eastern world. 
 
 But my purpose in coming to Egypt was simply to take 
 it en route to the desert. When we were in the East six 
 years ago, we had planned to sail from Constantinople to 
 Beirut, and make the tour of the Holy Land ; but the 
 cholera had broken out in Northern Syria, which caused 
 such a strict quarantine to be kept along the coast, that we 
 were warned that we should be subject to great delay when 
 we came to leave the country to enter Egypt, and so we 
 were obliged to sail direct to Alexandria. We spent six 
 weeks in Egypt, going up the Nile, and then embarked 
 for India. I consoled myself for the loss of Palestine by 
 inwardly resolving to keep it for another time, when I 
 might be able also to go to Mount Sinai. That time had 
 now come, and I was in Cairo not even to enjoy, except for 
 a few days, its picturesque scenes or its delightful climate, 
 but s im ply to pass on my way to a very different country. 
 
 I had come from Naples alone, leaving my family to 
 spend the Winter in Italy. But it would have been cheer- 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 39 
 
 less to set out on a solitary pilgrimage across the desert. 
 "While unsettled in plans, I learned that Dr. George E. 
 Post, Professor of Surgery and Botany in the Syrian Pro- 
 testant College at Beirut, had for some time desired to make 
 the journey to Sinai, and I wrote to him inviting him to 
 share my tent and table. To my great joy, he was able to 
 accept the invitation, and never was a traveller more fortu- 
 nate in his companion. I found him the model of a Chris- 
 tian gentleman and scholar. He is one of that corps of 
 young men who, uniting scientific knowledge with mis- 
 sionary zeal, have done so much both for science and relig- 
 ion, and I may add, for the honor of the American name in 
 the East. For weeks we rode side by side on our camels, 
 and his conversation beguiled the weariness of the way. 
 With such a companion, one could never be lonely. He had 
 lived eighteen years in Beirut, was master of the Arabic 
 language, and was familiar with all Oriental customs. He 
 joined me in Cairo on the 20th of February, and we were 
 together a week before we set out on our journey. 
 
 He at once relieved me of all the details of our pro- 
 posed expedition. It is no small thing to make preparation 
 for crossing the desert. One must choose his dragoman, 
 and draw up a formal contract, which has to be signed and 
 sealed before the Consul, in which every item is specified — 
 the number of camels and tents, the days of marching, and 
 the provisions of every kind, even to what we should have 
 for breakfast, for luncheon and dinner, and to the number 
 of our sheets and towels. Travellers in the East may be 
 pardoned if they are sometimes lifted up with vanity when 
 they see that it takes almost as much to set them in motion 
 as to get a ship under weigh. Though there were but 
 two of us, it required a considerable outfit for a month in 
 camp. Everything had to be carried on the backs of cam- 
 els — our tents, iron bedsteads, mattresses, table, and camp- 
 
40 
 
 THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 chairs — a stock of household furniture sufficient to begin 
 housekeeping ; to which must be added stores of canned 
 meat and fruits, boxes of eggs, and even a hencoop full of 
 chickens ! Even when thus provided, we could not have a 
 single meal except as we carried sacks of charcoal to cook 
 our food. And not less important than what we were to 
 eat, was what we were to drink, of which we must have a 
 large supply : for though the camels could go four days 
 without water, we could not. This had to be carried in 
 casks, which were slung on the backs of camels. Alto- 
 gether an Arab sheik, with his patriarchal family, could 
 hardly make a more imposing caravan. 
 
 We found a dragoman in a Syrian from Beirut, whom Dr. 
 Post had known before — Yohanna (or Hanna) Abeusaab — 
 who was willing and obliging, though not always as ener- 
 getic as we could wish, yet who served us fairly well, and 
 for whom we had, and still have, a very friendly feeling. 
 As soon as the contract was signed, he began to bustle 
 about with a sense of importance, and in an hour or two 
 knocked at our doors to ask us to come out into an open 
 space behind the Hotel to see our tents, and to select our 
 camels. The tents were already pitched, and we drew 
 aside the d.oor almost with the feeling that we were pene- 
 trating the retreat of some Oriental potentate. They were 
 ornamented with figures in gay colors, and carpeted with 
 Persian rugs, which together made quite a brave show. 
 Yohanna smiled serenely as he saw the pleasure, not un- 
 mingled with surprise, with which we regarded such mag- 
 nificence, and gravely intimated that he was not yet at the 
 end of his resources, but that he would do “ more better ” 
 for us before he got through. There was also a house- 
 keeping tent in which the cook would perform his myste- 
 rious operations. The Arabs would sleep outside in the 
 open air. 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 41 
 
 The selection of camels is a very nice matter, as on a 
 good beast depends much of the comfort of one’s jour- 
 ney. Looking over the number of those lying on the 
 ground, I picked out a young dromedary that had ra- 
 ther a sleek appearance. Just then Dr. Schweinfurth, i 
 Avho was passing in the street, came up, and gave us 
 the benefit of his experience as an African traveller. He 
 thought I had chosen rather a pretty creature, but ad- 
 vised me to spread out what she carried broadly on her 
 back, so as to make, not a narrow saddle, but a space on 
 which one could sit in Turkish fashion, with his legs under 
 him, or change his posture at will. I observed that this 
 was the custom of the Arabs, by which they are able to 
 take their long marches on the desert without undue 
 fatigue. As my camel and I were now to be on somewhat 
 intimate relations, I approached to make her acquaintance, 
 and even tendered her some little caressing, attempting to 
 stroke her gently ; but in an instant she swung round her 
 long neck, and gave me a vicious snap, which warned me 
 not to presume on any familiarities. I concluded to make 
 no further advances, but still virtuously resolved to be a 
 kind and indulgent master. 
 
 In all this busy preparation, I felt as if I were “ only a 
 passenger,” although Dr. Post said that the Arabs, recog- 
 nizing me as the head of the expedition, would give me the 
 title of “ Father of Backsheesh.” I find that the relation 
 between the giver of backsheesh and the receiver of it, is 
 a mysterious and sacred one. Hardly had I left this tent- 
 ground before an Arab, whose camel I was to ride, rushed 
 up to me in the street, and saluted me with the greatest 
 warmth, telling me that “ he was my backsheesli-man ” ! 
 
 The camels went forward to Suez four days before we 
 left Cairo. As we could overtake them in a few hours by 
 railway, we lingered behind to the last moment to enjoy 
 
42 
 
 THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 the animated life of the streets and bazaars. As we sat on 
 our balcony, and listened once more to the music from the 
 square below, it seemed as if the band were playing a 
 Chant du Depart, and we knew that our time had come. 
 But we both felt regret at leaving the most Oriental of 
 cities, with perhaps the single exception of Damascus ; 
 and as we rolled away, we kept looking back at the Pyra- 
 mids, as with other companions I had looked back at the 
 dome of St. Peter’s as we departed from Borne. The Delta 
 is not unlike the Campagna in its broad sweep and limit- 
 less horizon, and never did it appear in greater beauty. 
 The Springtime had long since come, and already the land 
 was rejoicing with the joy of its first harvest — a harvest 
 not of grain, but of grass. As far as the eye could reach, 
 the fields were in bloom with clover. These rich, juicy 
 grasses are the chief dependence of the Arabs for the sup- 
 port of their beasts of bur-den, and the harvest is gathered 
 with the greatest care. It is not done by patent mowers, 
 as on our Western prairies ; but the Arabs, scattering over 
 the plain with their sickles, clear each a rod or two of 
 ground, just enough to make a load for a camel, and piling 
 them in huge bundles on their backs, a procession of these 
 moving haystacks goes swinging along the road into Cairo. 
 This clover-harvest lasts only a few weeks, but it is a very 
 pretty sight, presenting a boundless sea of verdure, and 
 illustrating the exhaustless fertility of the Valley of the 
 Nile. 
 
 And now we leave the great river behind us, and move 
 out on the broad spaces of the Delta, where we find resem- 
 blances to other landscapes than the Campagna. If we 
 could but take away the miserable Arab villages, and in 
 their places introduce a few windmills and dykes and 
 canals, we might be in Holland ; or if we were to go still 
 farther, and strip the landscape of all but what nature has 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 43 
 
 given it, we might be on the prairies of Illinois. But the 
 Arabs and the camels and the pahn-trees are not Dutch nor 
 American. 
 
 About fifty miles from Cairo, we come to Zagazig — a 
 place which has risen to importance as a centre of the 
 railway system of Egypt, the line from Cairo meeting that 
 from Alexandria, and going on to Ismailia and Suez. Soon 
 after leaving Zagazig, the railway runs parallel to the Sweet 
 Water Canal, and after a few miles passes over a spot which 
 six months later was to be made famous by the battle of 
 Tel-el-Kebir. 
 
 But as we cotdd not anticipate history that was to come, 
 our thoughts were of history long past and remote. We 
 were here skirting the land of Goshen, where J acob and his 
 sons settled when they came into Egypt, and from which four 
 hundred years later Moses led the Exodus of the Israelites, 
 then grown to be a nation of two (perhaps three) millions 
 of people. When they rose up in the night to flee out of 
 Egypt, it is not probable that they intended to march by 
 the way of the desert : for that was far aside from the 
 direct route to Canaan, the land promised to their fathers. 
 At first they moved to the northeast, following the old car- 
 avan route to Syria, from which they were turned back by 
 a line of forts which stretched along the border of Egypt — 
 the dividing-line between Asia and Africa. It was then 
 that they turned southward to make their escape, and that 
 the Egyptians, following hard after them, thought that they 
 had caught them between the mountains and the sea, which 
 had “ shut them in ” ; and it was only when the Israelites 
 had crossed the Red Sea, which not only overwhelmed 
 their enemies, but put a barrier to further pursuit, that 
 they were safe. 
 
 At Ismailia we struck the desert, which here appears, 
 not as a level plain, but undulating like the rolling prairies 
 
44 
 
 THE FIRST DAY OY TnE DESERT. 
 
 of the "West. The wind, having an unbroken sweep, makes 
 sport of the sand, as it does of snow in Winter, casting it 
 up in huge drifts, like the dunes thrown up by the Ger- 
 man Ocean on the coast of Holland. 
 
 At eight o’clock in the evening we reached Suez (we 
 had left Cairo at noon), and stopped at the hotel where, 
 with another travelling companion, I had rested for a night 
 six years before, when on the way to India. There is 
 hardly a caravanserai in the world which receives within 
 its doors a more miscellaneous company of travellers, com- 
 ing and going between Europe and Asia. As we sat at 
 table, Englishmen who had just landed were t alkin g of 
 tiger-hunts in India. A gentleman with whom we had 
 made a pleasant acquaintance in Cairo, was to leave the 
 next morning for Hong Kong. While conversing with 
 him, our dragoman burst in to tells us that the camels 
 had come, and with the Arabs were in camp on the other 
 side of the Gulf of Suez, distant three hours’ sail. He 
 wished us to be up at six, and in light marching order for 
 our - long journey on the Desert. We begged for an hour’s 
 grace, but promptly at seven stepped into the little boat 
 that was lying at the quay ; and as our English friends, 
 who were on the balcony of the hotel, waved their hand- 
 kerchiefs and wished us a happy journey, the Arab boat- 
 men raised their lateen-sail, and we glided softly from the 
 African shore. 
 
 But there was still a little formality before we were 
 fairly out of Egypt. For months there had been almost a 
 panic in the East, from dread of the approach of cholera. 
 It had broken out in Mecca, where it was reported that 
 hundreds were dying daily, and from which returning pil- 
 grims had so often brought the cholera or the plague into 
 Western Asia, and so into Europe. A strict police had 
 been kept up on all the lines of approach, and thousands 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 45 
 
 of pilgrims were compelled to halt in tlieir march till the 
 danger of contagion was passed. This cordon sanitaire was 
 still rigidly maintained even when there seemed to he no 
 necessity for it. The alarm was over, and yet more than 
 a dozen great steamships were still lying off the harbor, 
 detained in quarantine a week before they could land their 
 passengers, lest they should bring cholera from India or 
 some other part of Asia. As this was no longer necessary, 
 it seemed a cruel hardship that Europeans, returning from 
 the East, when their voyage was over and they were in 
 sight of land, should be detained a whole week before they 
 could set foot on shore. Even we, poor innocents, although 
 we did not come from Mecca, but were rather going to- 
 wards it, yet had to stop at the quarantine to be inspected, 
 lest we should carry infection among the beggarly Arabs. 
 However, they did not detain us long, and taking on board 
 a black soldier, who had some badge of office round his 
 neck, and whose presence gave us permission to land on 
 the other side, we bore away. Never did a fairer morning 
 shine on land or sea. As we receded from Suez, we had a 
 fuller view of the mountains of Attaka, which form a back- 
 ground behind it ; and very grand they were, with their 
 sharp peaks rising against the sky, and their sides seamed 
 and scarred with the storms of thousands of years. As 
 they are of a dark-brown-red color, one can hardly resist 
 the impression that they gave name to the Ked Sea, al- 
 though it is more commonly supposed to be derived from 
 the red coral which is so abundant in its waters. This 
 bold and rugged coast of Africa is in striking contrast 
 with that of Asia, which is all sand and desert. As we 
 sailed across from one to the other, it seemed as if here 
 was the natural place for the passage of the Israelites ; as 
 if they must have been “ shut in ” by the mountains be- 
 hind us, and crossed here at the narrowest part of the 
 
46 
 
 THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 sea. In such musings we skimmed the still waters of the 
 Gulf. As we approached the other side, we found the 
 shore covered with tents, which were for the coast-guard 
 that had been kept here for months to detain caravans of 
 pilgrims coming from Mecca. At ten o’clock the boat 
 touched a long stone pier that stretched out from the land, 
 and we sprang ashore, and were on the soil of Asia. Here 
 our camels were waiting for us. But we did not wait for 
 them, but leaving them to load up the baggage, started off 
 in advance, eager for our first walk on the desert. The 
 fresh, pure air put new life into us, and we strode ahead in 
 high spirits, although here and there the skeletons of cam- 
 els that lay bleaching in the sun warned us that a desert 
 journey was not without its dangers. 
 
 At the distance of a mile or two we came to the Wells 
 of Moses, where there are a number of springs and palm- 
 trees. The place may well bear the name of Moses : for as 
 it is the first oasis on the desert, there can be little doubt 
 that he camped here after his passage of the Red Sea, 
 and here perhaps Miriam sang her song of triumph. 
 
 These Fountains of Moses might be made a very pretty 
 spot. But like everything which the Arabs touch, the place 
 is neglected and dirty. Green slime collects on the pools 
 of water, yet underneath the springs bubble up as fresh 
 as they did three thousand years ago, and with a little 
 effort the surface might be kept clear, and the water be 
 always sweet and pure. Even as it is, the pahn-trees grow 
 luxuriantly, the very sight of which, and of the pools of 
 water, must be grateful to those coming from the desert. 
 We were in a glow with our walk, and found it very pleas- 
 ant to rest under the shade, and enjoy the coolness, as a 
 gentle wind was stirring the palms above our heads. Gen- 
 erally parties camp here for the first night, and start fresh 
 in the morning. But we had a day’s work before us, and 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 47 
 
 now sprang up as we saw our train approaching. It halted 
 in front of us, and the camels knelt down in the soft, warm 
 sand for us to mount, and when they rose up, we were 
 fairly launched on the desert. 
 
 To the left is a chain of low hills, which forms part of 
 the escarpment, bounding like a wall the vast upland of 
 the Great and Terrible Wilderness, which we were after- 
 wards to traverse, and which we found to be indeed a 
 land of desolation. Between these hills and the Red Sea 
 stretches the desert, into which the traveller plunges as 
 soon as he leaves the Wells of Moses. There is no grad- 
 ual approach, by which he may get accustomed to his new 
 experience. As the sailor puts out from the land into the 
 open sea, so the traveller is instantly at sea in the billowy 
 ocean of sand. And how did it seem — this first dash into 
 the desert ? The first sensations were of glare and heat. 
 The heat was melting, the glare was blinding. The sun 
 beat down upon us as in mid-summer. Turn which way 
 I would, the sky above was brass, and the earth be- 
 neath a fiery furnace. Even the sight of the sea gave no 
 suggestion of coolness, but rather the contrary, as it shim- 
 mered under the blazing sun, which seemed as if it would 
 lick up all the waters of the earth. As we sweltered on 
 over the sands, I thought, How little do those who “ live at 
 home at ease ” know of the “ delights ” of foreign travel ! 
 After an hour or two, it began to grow rather monotonous ; 
 and fearing lest I should dissolve, if this heat continued all 
 the afternoon, I turned meekly to the dragoman, and asked 
 “ Yohanna, how long are we to have this sort of thing ? ” 
 “ Thirty days,” was the answer. I dropped the subject. 
 
 As some travellers who follow us may be as ignorant or 
 as thoughtless as I was, perhaps it may be of service to 
 tell how I learned by experience to guard myself against 
 these two exposures and dangers of the desert. To pro- 
 
48 
 
 THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 tect my eyes, I had provided myself in Cairo with goggles, 
 which I immediately mounted, and which for a time af- 
 forded great relief : a sudden shadow fell on the landscape, 
 as if a welcome cloud had intercepted the rays of the sun ; 
 all things took another hue ; the yellow sand put on a pur- 
 ple tint that was grateful. But after an hour or two, I 
 found that the blue glasses, while they shut out the glare, 
 also shut out the view of the desert ; and as I wished to 
 see it in all its savage nakedness, I uncovered my eyes. 
 As a partial protection, I had purchased in Cairo a pith 
 hat, or helmet, such as is commonly worn in India, which 
 is perforated to furnish ventilation for the head, and which 
 projects in front so as to afford a partial screen for the 
 eyes. At Mount Sinai I bought of a monk a straw hat of 
 immense brim, such as I had never seen worn except by 
 Chinamen in the East. It seemed to be modelled after the 
 top story of a pagoda, and settled on my head like an ex- 
 tinguisher. It was very good on the desert except as the 
 wind blew, when it took the breeze like a sail or a para- 
 chute. After many experiments, I came to the conclusion 
 that the best protection against both the blinding glare 
 and the withering heat, was the Indian helmet, supplement- 
 ed by a broad, generous umbrella. The latter should be 
 specially constructed for the purpose — double-lined, and 
 with a long, stout handle that can be lashed to the pommel 
 of the saddle. With these two protections combined, one 
 may feel that he has a double awning on the upper deck, 
 and will hardly be in danger of ophthalmia or sunstroke. 
 And yet let the traveller do what he will, there are certain 
 stubborn realities that are here, and that cannot be chang- 
 ed : the fierce sun is over his head, and the burning sand is 
 under his feet ; and after all precautions, he will find it 
 necessaiy to offer the prayer that the sun may not strike 
 him by day, nor the moon by night. 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 49 
 
 Added to the stifling heat, we began to feel the craving 
 of hunger, for we had taken our breakfast at Suez at an 
 early hour. It was now time for lunch, and I looked about 
 for some quiet, shady spot, where we could find shelter 
 from the noontide heat. How welcome would be one of 
 our Stockbridge elms, and how gladly would we lie down 
 under its grateful shade ! But in all the horizon there 
 was not a tree to be seen— not a solitary palm, nor even 
 a juniper bush, under which we might crouch, like Elijah. 
 "Weary with the hopeless search, at last we halted right in 
 the midst of the desert, “ squatting ” on the sands, with no 
 other shade but that of an umbrella. But we made the 
 best of it. The dragoman spread out his Persian rugs, 
 and proudly displayed the resources of civilization, as he 
 brought out tin plates and knives and forks, and gave us a 
 roasted chicken and pressed beef, with bread and oranges 
 and figs. We rose up grateful as for a feast, mounted our 
 camels, and resumed our march. From that moment we 
 took a new view of life, looking on the bright side of the 
 desert. We found that while the heat was intense, the air 
 was of such exquisite purity that we drew in deep inhala- 
 tions. We breathed though we burned, and each breath 
 seemed to renew our strength. In such an atmosphere one 
 can see to a great distance. We had in full view the chain 
 of mountains on the other side of the Red Sea. We even 
 grew reconciled to the everlasting sand, which, though 
 burning to the touch under the midday sun, was yet so 
 clean that it seemed as if it had never been stained by 
 blood or tears. So pure and undefiled was it that we won- 
 dered not that in the absence of water it is sometimes used 
 for the sacrament of baptism, and that the Arabs use it for 
 their washings before prayer. Our dragoman put it to a 
 more homely service : he washed his dishes in the sand, 
 whereby they were not only cleansed, but scoured. 
 
50 
 
 THE FIRST DAY OX THE DESERT. 
 
 And now as we are fully “ at sea,” it is time to speak of 
 tlie “ skip ” tkat carries us. To-day began my first experi- 
 ence of camel-riding, of wkick I kad keard suck fearful 
 descriptions, and wkick is to many tke great terror of 
 tke desert. An Englisk writer, tke late Albert Smitk, de- 
 scribes tke sensation to be like tkat wkick one would 
 experience in riding on a piano-stool tkat was mounted 
 on tke top of a Hansom cab, and driven over plowed 
 ground ! Friends kad told me tkat my back would be 
 broken, and for tke first kour or two I almost expected to 
 hear tke bones crack. Yet strange to say, I lived through 
 it, and “ still live ” after a month’s experience of tke same 
 kind, and find camel-riding not at all unpleasant. It is a 
 long, swinging motion, and one needs to get limbered up to 
 it. Tke spine must be made flexible — not a bad thing for 
 a man who is by nature stiff-backed. Indeed I am pre- 
 pared to take up tke defence of tke camel as a muck- 
 abused and long-suffering beast. True, I cannot boast of 
 kis looks or of kis temper. He has no beauty, like tke 
 horse, with smooth, round body, arched neck, and clean 
 limbs. Tke only pretty feature of a camel is kis ears, 
 wkick, instead of being long like a donkey’s, are small like 
 those of a mouse. But kis general features are ungainly : 
 he seems to be all back and legs. These are not graceful 
 proportions. Nor is the absence of physical perfection 
 compensated by kis moral qualities, so tkat we can say 
 “ handsome is tkat handsome does,” for tke camel is not 
 an amiable beast. He is always groaning and complaining, 
 and has a growl kke a kon. 
 
 But in spite of all defects of temper, he has some nota- 
 ble virtues. Though he has not tke speed of tke horse, 
 yet when it comes to the heavy work of carrying burdens, 
 he leaves tke horse far behind. Muck as camels growl 
 when you are loading them, yet when tke burden is 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 51 
 
 placed upon them, though they will not skip off like a 
 prancing steed, they will rise up and carry it all day long. 
 In this they are like some Christians, who are always 
 grumbling, but who, when it comes to the pinch, rise up 
 under their loads, and bear them manfully ; while others, 
 who are smooth and plausible and full of promises, man- 
 age to evade every irksome duty. But as to riding this 
 beast of burden, one might well hesitate. The first glance 
 is not assuring. When you take your stand beside the huge 
 creature, whose hump towers quite above your head, and 
 think of climbing such a height, it seems like climbing a 
 haystack. But you do not have to climb up to him : he 
 kneels down to you. The only trouble is in mounting. 
 Here there are three separate motions, which may be de- 
 scribed as a kind of “ double back-action,” or a double 
 forward-action. The camel is lying on the ground, his 
 long legs all under him, and they have to be taken out by 
 instalments. The rider mounts, and the beast begins to 
 rise. First he rises to his foreknees. This tips the rider 
 back to an angle of forty-five degrees. Then his long 
 hindlegs begin to move under him, and as he rises, not to 
 the knees, but to the full height, the rider has a violent 
 pitch forward. Then the forelegs are set in motion again, 
 by which the camel lises from his knees to his proper level, 
 and the rider is in the saddle.* 
 
 * Dr. Post, who looks at the camel with the eye of an anato- 
 mist, describes his rising up on his feet more scientifically, as 
 follows: “ It is divided into three stages: 1st, A backward un- 
 dulation, by which the hindquarters receive the weight of the 
 trunk, while he disengages his left foreleg, and advances it bent 
 at the left foreknee. 2d, A strong forward lunge as he raises 
 both hindquarters together to their full height; it is this lunge 
 which surprises the inexperienced rider by the punch in tho 
 back and the forward fling. 3d, The left foreleg is now straight- 
 ened fully, thus raising the forequarters to their natural level; 
 
52 
 
 THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 Once seated, the posture is very easy. Indeed one can 
 ride in any posture — astride, as men ride, or sidewise, as 
 ladies ride — and with this advantage, that one can turn 
 either way, to the right or the left. When Dr. Post and I 
 were riding side by side, we often turned so as to face 
 each other, and thus had many a pleasant conversation as 
 we moved slowly along. Sometimes the Doctor, who w r as 
 an expert in such gymnastics, swung clear round toward 
 the tail, and so watched the caravan as it came lumbering 
 along behind us. The favorite posture of the Arab is 
 with his legs crossed on the camel’s neck. To this one 
 easily gets accustomed. I sat thus for horn’s, with folded 
 arms and folded legs — the picture of a philosopher. It 
 is a great advantage in riding that the camel does not 
 need to be guided. He has no bridle, but only a hal- 
 ter around his nose, by which he is led. To each animal 
 there is a cameleer, who, if need be, will go before and 
 lead him. But I soon found this to be unnecessary, 
 since camels, left to themselves, will follow each other in 
 Indian file, and seldom get out of the way. Thus mov- 
 ing on with slow and steady step, a camel’s back is a 
 good place for reading or meditation. As one has no 
 use for his hands in guiding, he can hold a book or 
 a letter. As I could get no new letters on the desert, 
 I read over my old ones again and again. Here too 
 one can find scope for endless reveries. In a caravan 
 one is often left to himself. His companions may push 
 ahead, or drop in the rear, so that the line of march is 
 
 he assists himself in this motion by steadying himself on his 
 right wrist until he is nearly erect, when he flings the right fore- 
 foot into position in the act of straightening the other leg. The 
 act of kneeling reverses these motions, except that he drops 
 upon both foreknees at once, giving something of a jar to the 
 rider.” 
 
THE FIRST DAY ON THE DESERT. 
 
 53 
 
 long drawn out, and each one finds himself alone. At 
 such times I used to cross my legs, and throwing the hal- 
 ter over th neck of my poor dromedary, let her stray 
 along at her wn will, now stopping to crop the scanty 
 herbage, and now moving on with measured step. Thus 
 “rocked,” as it were, “in the cradle of the deep,” who 
 could but give way to his quiet musings ? Especially 
 did this mood come upon us at the approach of evening. 
 Isaac went forth to meditate at eventide, and few are not 
 more or less touched with the sweet influences of the scene 
 and the horn - . Conversation drooped with the falling of 
 the day, and for an hour or two we rode on in silence. 
 As the sun sank lower on tli9 Egyptian hills, the air 
 grew cooler, and then came the beauty of the desert. 
 The sun went down in glory. Turning on our camels, 
 we watched the dying day as it lingered long on the 
 waters of the Red Sea and on the tops of the distant moun- 
 tains. Then shot up something like an aurora, or the after- 
 glow on the Nile. The scene was so beautiful that we 
 should have stopped to gaze upon it but that we were 
 growing anxious about our course. The baggage train 
 had gone ahead to pitch the camp, but where was it? 
 We looked eagerly for the white tents, but saw none. The 
 last gleam of twilight faded into night, and the moon, 
 nearly full, rose over the desert, and all things looked 
 weird by its light. But the distance seemed longer and 
 longer. By-and-by it flashed upon us that the old sheikh 
 who was leading us had lost his way. There was not a 
 track of any kind. For half an hour we were i:i a good 
 deal of anxiety, for we might have to spend the night under 
 the open sky. The Arabs raced the camels across the 
 fields, and we shouted at the top of our voices. At length, 
 to our great relief, we heard an answer, and in a few min- 
 utes saw the lights of our tent3. It was half-past seven 
 
54 
 
 THE FIRST DAY OX THE DESERT. 
 
 when we came into camp. Our men had "been as anxious 
 about us as we were about them. We found dinner await- 
 ing us, after which we strolled out to call up^n our neigh- 
 bors : for another American party, fromPPhiladelphia, 
 which had left the Wells of Moses in the morning, was 
 camped near us. Indeed we camped side by side every 
 night but one till we reached Mount Sinai. Taking the 
 two parties together, there were twenty-seven camels, and 
 about the same, or a larger, number of men. It was a 
 picturesque sight to see the huge creatures stretched upon 
 the ground, and the Arabs about their camp-fires cooking 
 their food. All round us the sand glistened in the moon- 
 light, white as the driven snow. In such a scene of peace, 
 we lay down in our tents to sleep the first night on the 
 desert. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MARAH, ELIM, AND THE CAMP BY THE RED SEA. 
 
 It needs no blast of a trumpet to waken tlie traveller 
 on tbe desert. Even the heaviest sleeper must open bis 
 eyes when tbe sun, rising over tbe level waste, as over tbe 
 sea, strikes on tbe white tents. But we bad another morn- 
 ing summons to tell us when it was day. In tbe provision- 
 ing of our camp, our dragoman bad laid in a large supply 
 of poultry. A spacious liencoop, which crowned like a 
 tower tbe bump of one of our camels, earned a flock of 
 chickens and pigeons, which were let out at night to pick 
 up tbe meal that was thrown to them on tbe sand, and 
 made a pretty home picture as they cackled about, after 
 which, with true domestic instinct, they went to roost on 
 the top of the coop, giving to our camp a little of the ap- 
 pearance of a farmyard. With these more quiet fowls 
 were a couple of roosters that did all the crowing for us 
 that was necessary, and never forgot to waken us early in 
 the morning. We were sure of having “the cock’s shrill 
 clarion,” if we had not “ the echoing horn,” to “ rouse us 
 from our lowly beds.” Nor was it a bad thing to be 
 roused, as the morning is the time to march. A wise trav- 
 eller will always start early, even if he has to take several 
 hours of rest at noon. On the desert, if nowhere else, 
 “ the morning and the evening ” are “ the day.” 
 
 Soon after sunrise all hands were astir. The breaking 
 up of camp is always an animated scene, and few sights 
 are prettier than the striking of the tents. But when it 
 
56 
 
 MARAH, ELIM, AND 
 
 comes to loading up tlie camels, the scene is not only ani- 
 mated, but sometimes too much so. The Arabs are an 
 excitable race, and the cameleer who finds that his beast 
 is overloaded in the distribution of the burdens of the 
 march, is apt to give utterance to his wrath in loud words 
 and fierce gesticulations. This morning I was startled at 
 hearing the voices of the men ; they fairly shrieked with 
 anger — I have no doubt they swore by the Prophet, but 
 as I did not understand Arabic, I was happily spared their 
 imprecations — and I thought they were coming to blows, 
 and that we should have a battle of the Bedaween. But 
 if this were like a thunderclap, it was not followed by 
 much of a shower. After a few minutes of this war of 
 words, they relapsed into silence, and went quietly to work 
 loading up their camels, and marched off as if nothing had 
 happened. This first experience was of use to me after- 
 wards, and when I heard the loud voices of the men, I 
 paid no more attention to them than to the growling of 
 the camels. 
 
 In the order of march, my companion and I always 
 started in advance, and started on foot. For this there 
 was a double reason. The hour of sunrise was so inspir- 
 ing that we were eager to be abroad. It seemed as if the 
 sun was not merely new risen on the world, but risen on a 
 new world. Old things had passed away with the shadows 
 of the night, and all things had become new. The exqui- 
 site purity of the atmosphere made it a luxury to breathe, 
 and we could not wait a moment in camp when we were 
 ready for a walk on the desert. Besides this, Dr. Post had 
 a special motive to quicken his steps. He is an enthusias- 
 tic botanist, and has already collected twelve thousand spe- 
 cies of plants, which he has in the Museum of the College 
 at Beirut, and one object he had in accompanying me to 
 Mount Sinai was to make a collection of the Flora of the 
 
THE CAMP BY TIIE RED SEA. 
 
 57 
 
 Desert. It seemed a strange place in which to look for 
 flowers. But he proved by observation that what is so 
 beautiful in poetry is true in fact ; that 
 
 “ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air.” 
 
 In one month on the desert he collected over three hun- 
 dred and fifty species of plants, most of which were un- 
 known in Syria. 
 
 We had not gone far when we descried in the distance 
 a caravan approaching. What could it be ? Pilgrims from 
 Mecca ? But this was not the road to Mecca. As we drew 
 nearer, it proved to be a company of Bussian pilgrims re- 
 turning from Mount Sinai — thirty-two of them, of whom 
 only two were men. The greater number of women sug- 
 gested that it was perhaps in performance of a vow that 
 they had made a pilgrimage to the Convent of St. Catherine, 
 which is a favorite shrine with the Bussian peasants. Bec- 
 ognizing in us pilgrims bound to the same destination, 
 they looked down upon us from the height of their camels 
 with smiles of pleasure, and kept bowing and smiling till 
 their camels had borne them past, and they quickly dis- 
 appeared on the horizon of the desert. 
 
 These pilgrims were followed by a company of Beda- 
 ween, bound in the same direction, but on an errand of 
 business instead of a pilgrimage of devotion. Bestriding 
 their camels were huge sacks laden with charcoal, which 
 the Arabs make from the few shrubs or stunted trees which 
 they find in the mountains, and which form almost the only 
 article which they can produce, for which they can obtain 
 money, or anything which must be bought with money. 
 
 . They were now bound for Suez to sell their charcoal. To 
 go and return would take them a week’s time, and as the 
 fruit of their journey and their labor, a camel’s load would 
 bring perhaps twenty francs, with which they would pur- 
 
58 
 
 MARAH, ELIM, AND 
 
 chase probably a sack of grain for their families, and a few 
 ounces of tobacco for themselves. 
 
 After these two encounters, we saw no man that day. 
 We marched on quite alone, and began to feel more and 
 more the loneliness of the desert. Not only was there no 
 man in sight, but not a living thing. The utter absence of 
 life affected us strangely, as it brought the sense not only 
 of solitude, but of silence. Even while it was yet broad 
 day, there fell on us a silence as of the night. The earth 
 grew calm and still, as if suddenly the course of nature 
 had stopped, and all things had ceased to live. Although 
 the Red Sea still gleamed in the distance, yet as we moved 
 away from it, we could no longer hear the lapping of its 
 waves ; and there was no sign of life on sea or land, or in 
 the sky. Not a bird wheeled in the air ; not even an in- 
 sect’s hum broke the stillness of the desert. Even nature 
 seemed to have hushed her voice ; no murmuring brook 
 made music in our ears ; no sough of the wind in the 
 pines whispered to us in the gloaming. The only sound 
 that fell on the ear was the steady step of the camel crunch- 
 ing through the hard crust ; and when we passed through 
 long stretches of soft sand, even that seemed muffled, as 
 the broad foot, soft and springy as the tiger’s, sank under 
 us almost without a sound. So oppressive was the still- 
 ness that it was a relief to hear the song of the cameleer, 
 though it had little music in it, for it was always in the minor 
 key, and low and feeble, as if he trembled to hear the 
 sound of his own voice in the deep solitude. It seemed 
 as if we had gone out of the world, and entered the Halls 
 of Eternal Silence, and were moving on into a mysterious 
 realm, where the sound of human voices would be heard 
 nevermore. 
 
 In studying the geography of the desert, the first les- 
 son to be learned is to know what is meant by a wady. 
 
THE CAMP BY THE RED SEA. 
 
 59 
 
 Destitute as these broad stretches of barrenness are of 
 springs, or running brooks, yet at times they are swept 
 by terrific storms, when torrents dash down the mountain 
 side, and plow deep furrows in the sandy waste. The dry 
 beds which they leave behind are wadies. These wadies, 
 depressed below the level of the surrounding plain, are 
 the favorite places for pitching tents, as the banks on either 
 side furnish a shelter from the winds that sweep over the 
 desert. Several of these we crossed to-day, in which the 
 half-dried mud showed that there had been recent rains. 
 Wherever the moisture had touched, there were signs of 
 vegetation. Dr. Post, who is always on the lookout for 
 such treasures, found twenty new species of plants in 
 one day, which he displayed with the delight of a discov- 
 erer, pointing out how nature had provided sustenance for 
 them by furnishing them with thick leaves or long roots 
 or little warts, which the microscope showed to be so 
 many minute cells or sacs for water. Every traveller will 
 have his attention called by his camel, if not by his guide, 
 to a thorny bush of which the camel is very fond. Nor 
 will the rider, if he be wise, urge on the poor beast which 
 stops a moment to crop its leaves, for it is very aromatic, 
 and sends up a fragrant smell into his face. Another 
 bush which is common is the juniper — more properly the 
 “ broom ” of the desert — under which we often found a 
 shade for our midday meal. 
 
 Twice to-day were we reminded that we were on the 
 track of the Israelites — once at Marah, the spring whose 
 very name tells of its bitterness, and which, however sweet- 
 ened by Moses, still disappoints the traveller, for indeed it 
 is almost dried up. We found in it no flowing water at 
 all ; only digging in the sand, we discovered where a hidden 
 spring was oozing away. A much larger spring, or group 
 of springs, we found at Wady Ghurundel, the Elim of the 
 
60 
 
 MARAH, ELIM, AND 
 
 Scriptures, where we camped for the night. In these desert 
 marches it is always an object to pitch one’s tent near a 
 spring. W e were indeed supplied with water, which we took 
 in at Suez, from the Sweet Water Canal, which brings it 
 from the Nile. From this were filled the casks, which were 
 slung on the backs of our camels. These are so precious that 
 when unloaded for the night, and set up on end, they are 
 kept locked lest the men should snatch forbidden draughts. 
 W ater for themselves they carry in water-skins. But though 
 we were provided so as to be in no danger of dying by 
 thirst, yet in the desert there is something refreshing 
 even in the sight of flowing water. How could we fail 
 to camp at a spot where Moses had arrested his march 
 because he found, as he tells us, twelve springs and sev- 
 enty palm-trees ? Moses is gone, but the springs are still 
 here. “ Men may come and men may go, but they flow on 
 forever.” The Arab still comes to find water for himself and 
 his camels at the same spring which quenched the thirst 
 of the Israelites. On the very spot where the great 
 Hebrew leader pitched his tent, we camped at the end of 
 our second day’s march. In the morning I went down to 
 the springs, and found them hardly worthy of their ancient 
 fame, or of the place which they still hold in sacred poetry, 
 where “ the shade of Elim’s palm ” is the type of almost 
 heavenly rest. Neither in water nor in shade does Elim 
 approach the Wells of Moses. Instead of a running brook 
 or bursting fountains, one finds only a sluggish rivulet melt- 
 ing away in the sand, with a few straggling palms along its 
 brink. Yet slender as it i3, and although the water is some- 
 what brackish, it may be the very water of life on the des- 
 ert. The Arabs came from the camp, and filled their water- 
 skins, which they slung over their shoulders, and then 
 threw on the backs of their camels. I bent down to the 
 stream to drink, and though it was not like putting my 
 
THE CAMP BY THE RED SEA. 
 
 61 
 
 Kps to “ the moss-covered bucket that hung in the well,” 
 still there was a pleasure in drinking of the very springs 
 of which Moses drank more than three thousand years ago. 
 
 But the traveller on the desert must not linger by bub- 
 bhng streams or under palm-trees. While we had been 
 here, the camels had been got ready, and we must up and 
 away. To-day’s march brought a change of scene, as we 
 left behind the flat or rolling sandy plain, and entered into 
 a region more wild and rugged. We found that this Penin- 
 sula was not an unbroken plain, stretching to the base of 
 Sinai, but that “ the wilderness ” was a wilderness of moun- 
 tains, through which one could make his way only by fol- 
 lowing the wadies that wound about in every direction, 
 forming a perfect labyrinth, and that sometimes assumed 
 the character of mountain defiles. This afternoon we pur- 
 sued our course along these river beds till we came into one 
 where a torrent in the course of ages had cut through suc- 
 cessive strata of rock, cleaving them to the base of the 
 hills, and forming a gorge almost like a canon of the 
 Rocky Mountains. This we followed in all its windings 
 for several hours, till suddenly the cKffs opened, and be- 
 fore us lay the Red Sea, beyond which was a range of 
 mountains, the line of which was broken by peaks shooting 
 up here and there, like the cliffs of Capri, or the islands of 
 the Greek Archipelago. It was now five o’clock, and the 
 sun was sinking in the west, so that every point of that 
 long serrated ridge stood up sharp and clear against the 
 sky. Here was a scene which no artist could transfer to 
 canvas. We had before us at once the mountains and the 
 sea, and mountains on both sides of the sea. Enchanted 
 and almost bewildered by the scene, as we came out 
 upon a wide stretch of beach, we dismounted to walk, for 
 the greater freedom of motion, and that we could stop 
 and turn to every point of the horizon. Can I ever forget 
 
62 
 
 MARAH. ELIM, AND 
 
 that heavenly hour, and how soft was the light on the Afri- 
 can mountains ! As the sunset shone across the sea, it 
 lighted up also the Arabian hills, above which there was a 
 soft violet tint in the shy, which gradually faded away, and 
 was succeeded by an intense blue, while high up in the 
 heavens hung the moon, only two days to the full. Again 
 we mounted our camels, and rode on for a mile or two, till 
 rounding a point we discovered our tents in a little cove 
 or inlet in the sandy hills, but a few rods from the shore. 
 The spot seemed made for a camp, as it was sheltered 
 from the winds, and the sand was firm and hard, so that 
 the tent floor was smooth and clean. Here Moses camped 
 by the Red Sea, and following the illustrious example, we 
 camped, as it were, on the very shore, where in our waking 
 moments all night long we heard the waters as they came 
 rippling up the beach. 
 
 As our camp was by the sea, the temptation was 
 irresistible, as we rose the next morning, to take a bath. 
 One must have been three days on the desert to taste the 
 sweetness of such a dip, as he lies down and lets the cool 
 waters ripple over him. So keen was the pleasure of this 
 new experience, that when we set out for our morning’s 
 tramp, as our way led along the beach (indeed in one or 
 two places the rocks were so close that the camels had to 
 step in the water, and in storms caravans are sometimes 
 detained two or three days), I could not resist the impulse 
 to walk for some distance in the edge of the sea, now and 
 then dashing out to catch the foam of the breakers as they 
 came rolling in. Of course it was not a very prudent thing 
 to do. But nature will out. Boys will be boys, and I sup- 
 pose an old boy may have the same privilege as a young 
 one. At the moment I felt “ glorious,” although the Doc- 
 tor thought me a little daft. Looking at me with his keen 
 medical eye, he warned me that I was running a great 
 
THE CAMP BY THE RED SEA. 
 
 G3 
 
 risk. My feet were soaked ; my hob-nailed shoes, bought 
 in Cairo for mountain climbing, were badly water-logged ; 
 and altogether I was in a bedraggled condition. But my 
 spirits were so high that they kept me from any ill effect of 
 this rashness. Mounting my camel, I threw my dripping 
 legs over the pommel of the saddle, and thus hung them 
 up to dry, leaving shoes and socks and trousers to take 
 care of themselves. I found the enthusiasm of a march, 
 which keeps the blood almost at fever heat, better than 
 quinine to ward off the danger of taking cold. 
 
 And now appeared in the distance another welcome 
 sight — a couple of camels, with Arabs at their side, and 
 following on foot, with gun in hand, a solitary traveller • 
 Meeting a traveller on the desert is an event, like hailing 
 a ship at sea. We addressed the stranger in English 
 and French, and to the latter he returned an answer. 
 He proved to be an Italian, who had been for months in 
 the mountains, searching for precious stones, and was now 
 returning to Suez. “ Would he take letters for us ? ” 
 “ With the greatest pleasure.” In an instant down went 
 the camels, and two travellers were standing beside them, 
 pencil in hand, writing a few words to those who were far 
 away. A moment more, and the traveller was gone. We 
 did not see him again, but weeks after we learned that the 
 letters thus written on the desert had reached their desti- 
 nations at Beirut and Florence, and given great relief, as 
 they carried the first tidings of our safety. 
 
 The sandy beach, which lies here between the sea and the 
 mountains, broadens into a plain, and stretches on for some 
 miles, so that it took us over two hours to cross it. As 
 nowhere on the desert had we found more utter desolation, 
 and nowhere did the sun blaze down with a fiercer heat, I 
 am afraid some of my countrymen, passing over the “ burn- 
 ing marl,” have found that, in the temptations it offered to 
 
64 
 
 CAMP BY THE BED SEA. 
 
 cursing, there was a special appropriateness in the name it 
 hears of the "Wilderness of Sin ! From this withering heat 
 we found no refuge till we were once more in the gorges of 
 the mountains, under the shelter of the overhanging cliffs. 
 The day before we had come out of the mountains, and 
 now our course led back into them. Turning to take a last 
 look at the Bed Sea (which we should not see again except 
 at a great distance, from the top of Serbal and of Sinai), 
 we entered a narrow pass called the Throat of the Morsel, 
 which opened a way into the heart of the mountains, 
 that grew more wild and grand as we advanced. Often 
 we seemed to be shut in by walls, and had to come up 
 to their very base before they opened their iron gates 
 for us to pass through. The geological structure of the 
 country had changed. We had been in a region of lime- 
 stone, where the mountains were almost as white and glar- 
 ing as the sand of the desert ; but now the eye rested, 
 with a sensation of relief, on huge masses of old red sand- 
 stone, the effect of whose rich colors was heightened by 
 the outline of the cliffs and crags, which took on all fan- 
 tastic shapes, looking like old castles and towers. One can 
 imagine how they stand out against the sky when the sun- 
 set strikes upon them. We pitched our tents in a little 
 valley that was set in an amphitheatre of mountains. 
 Hard by we scaled the cliffs to penetrate the old tur- 
 quoise mines of Maghara, that were worked in the time 
 of the Pharaohs. The rocks still bear inscriptions graven 
 upon them in one of the earlier dynasties. These take us 
 f far back in the ages, but the impression they give of long 
 tracts of time is quite effaced by the mountains them- 
 selves. Our camp was at the foot of a peak which was 
 one solid mass of old red sandstone, compared to the age 
 of which the Pyramids of Egypt are but of yesterday. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 In the course of our marches, we had now come to the 
 last day of the week, and set out this morning with buoy- 
 ant spirits, inspired by the hope of a day of rest on the 
 morrow. As if to make us prize it the more, Saturday 
 was a day of unusual fatigue. Starting at seven o’clock, 
 we walked for an hour, when the camels came up, and we 
 mounted and rode four hours under a blazing sun. We 
 found the heat as great in these wadies as on the open 
 desert. They are so wide that except where the moun- 
 tains rise in abrupt cliffs, it is not easy to get under their 
 shadow ; while the sun’s rays are reflected from their 
 sides, and poured into the valley below, which glows like 
 a furnace. However, we bore it like martyrs. Indeed we 
 should have been ashamed to complain, mounted as we 
 were, while our poor Arabs trudged along by our side, 
 their naked feet sinking in the burning sand. We looked 
 down on them with pity ; but they did not seem to be in 
 need of pity, for they were chattering like monkeys, and 
 laughing all the way, while we were as glum as our cam- 
 els. This lightness of heart is the compensation which 
 nature sometimes gives to weaker races, to enable them to 
 bear the hardships of their lot. If these poor creatures 
 could but see themselves as others see them, half naked 
 and half starved, they would lie down on the desert and 
 die ; but a happy oblivion of their miserable condition 
 makes them take life as cheerfully as the rest of us. The 
 
66 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 contrast of their mirth with our grim silence and dogged 
 endurance, set me to thinking about these strange children 
 of the desert. Ever since we left Suez, I had been making 
 observations not only on the country, but on the people. 
 While keeping one eye on the horizon, taking in the gen- 
 eral features of the landscape, with the other I had been 
 quietly observing our motley company. Except the drag- 
 oman and the cook, our only companions are Bedaween. 
 They are our guides by day and our guards at night. 
 What sort of men are these to whom we commit our 
 safety? Certainly as guides we could desire no better. 
 The Arab knows the desert as the Indian knows the for- 
 est. Indeed he is made for the desert as truly as the 
 camel. His very physique fits him for long marches. His 
 body is light and his step is springy, yet he has not even 
 shoes on his feet. The sole protection to the foot when 
 going over the fiery sands, or even jagged rocks, is a pair 
 of sandals so thin that I wondered how he could keep 
 them on. Yet thus shod, or even with bare feet, he will 
 spring up the rocks like a goat, or climb to the top of the 
 highest mountain. It is true he goes in very light march- 
 ing order. His limbs are naked, and he carries not an 
 ounce of superfluous flesh on his bones. In all my ac- 
 quaintance with the Bedaween, I never saw one who was 
 fat like a negro. His only garments are a cotton shirt, 
 and a sort of overall of coarse hair-cloth which serves the 
 double purpose of a cloak by day and a coverlid by night.* 
 
 * Customs do not change on the desert in thousands of years. 
 The Israelites were as poorly clad as our Arabs, their one gar- 
 ment sufficing for both day and night. Hence the significance 
 as well as humanity of the law of Moses (Exodus xxii. 26, 27) : 
 “ If thou at all take thy neighbor’s raiment to pledge, thou shalt 
 deliver it unto him by that the sun goeth down : For that is his 
 covering only [that is, his only covering] ; it is his raiment for 
 his skin : wherein shall he sleep ?” 
 
OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 67 
 
 Thus lightly clad, but with sinews of steel which are better 
 than a girdle about his loins, he will march all day, and 
 when the night overtakes him, wrap himself up like a bun- 
 dle, and he down and sleep under the open sky. These 
 long marches are made with little food. The Arabs eat 
 little, because they have little to eat ; they are “ lean and 
 hungry-looking,” because they are hungry. It is not once 
 in a month they have a full stomach. Hence, if by the favor 
 of Allah they get a “ square meal,” they eat till it is gone. 
 Set before them a roasted sheep, and they will gorge them- 
 selves like anacondas, even though they must fast the next 
 day. In this utter thoughtlessness of the future, they are 
 like children. Indeed if one were to describe them in a 
 single word, he could hardly do it better than by saying 
 that they are grown-up children. They are children in 
 intelligence. No matter how old an Arab may be, how 
 many suns and moons have rolled over his head, he re- 
 mains to the day of his death as truly a child as when he 
 was born into the world. Not only does he not know how 
 to read and write, but he does not know his own age ; he 
 cannot tell the day, or even the year, of his birth. I doubt 
 if one of our Bedaween could tell his age within five, even 
 if he could within ten, years. Indeed he has no idea of 
 time any more than of distance. Ask him how far it is to 
 such a wady or such a camping-ground ? He will answer 
 “A good way.” Indeed he never measures distance by 
 miles, but only by hours, and even of these his ideas are 
 of the vaguest kind. Ask him how long since such a thing 
 happened, and he will answer “A good while ago.” As he 
 has no clear memory of the present, so he ha3 no forecast 
 of the future. Like a child, he lives only in the present. 
 Like a child, he acts wholly upon impulse, upon the feel- 
 ing of the moment. Like a child, his chief delight is in 
 telling stories, and in listening to them. The tales of the 
 
68 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 Arabian Nights are simply a series of brilliant pictures of 
 what may be witnessed still when a group gathers about 
 a story-teller in the bazaars of Cairo or Damascus, or round 
 any camp-fire on the desert. 
 
 A people who are thus but children, must be treated 
 like children, not like full-grown men. It is useless to pre- 
 sent to them formal propositions or arguments. I should 
 no more think of reasoning with a Bedawee than of reason- 
 ing with a baby. Give him backsheesh, and that he can 
 understand, but argument he cannot understand. Try to 
 govern him by appealing to his conscience or his common- 
 sense, and you will make a dismal failure. He has little 
 power of reflection or of judgment, and a very imperfect 
 germ of a moral nature. The ordinary standard by which 
 he measures men or actions is by the amount of back- 
 sheesh they give. A good man is one who gives “ plenty 
 backsheesh ” ; he who refuses this is to be accursed. Our 
 men seem to regard me with a friendly eye as “the father 
 of backsheesh.” They look up to the Howadji as a kind 
 of Providence, who is to rain gifts upon them, causing the 
 desert literally to blossom as the rose. The honor they 
 put upon me would be embarrassing were it not that they 
 are easily satisfied. The Arab is pleased with a trifle which 
 tickles his appetite or touches his vanity — a bit of gay 
 color to wrap round his head, or even a pinch of tobacco 
 to fill his pipe. I hope my rigid friends at home will not 
 accuse me of corrupting the simplicity and innocence of 
 these children of the desert, when I confess that the drag- 
 oman, wishing to exalt me in their esteem, brought me 
 every morning a pouch of tobacco, to be dispensed in the 
 course of the day. I was not prodigal of such riches, but 
 when a poor fellow looked up to me appealingly, pointing 
 to his empty pipe, I gave him a pinch to fill it. Never did 
 a little seed, sown on good ground, bring forth a richer 
 
OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 69 
 
 crop of gratitude. If I liad bestowed royal favors, their 
 delight could not have been greater. They smiled at me 
 all day long as they trudged by my side, and called down 
 upon me all the blessings of the Prophet. Thus the Arab 
 may be governed through his pleasures, his imagination, or 
 his fear. If a leader among the Bedaween knows how to 
 amuse them up to a certain point, all the while keeping a 
 tight rein upon them, he will have no trouble. The greater 
 the awe of his power, the greater the liberty with which 
 they can be indulged. But they must never be allowed to 
 forget that he is their master. If he will but please their 
 fancy, and at the same time impress them with a sense of 
 his own authority, and thus keep them in strict subjection, 
 he will find them docile and obedient. 
 
 So far, then, I was pleased with my new companions — 
 a pleasure which was all the greater because it was min- 
 gled with surprise. I had been accustomed to think of 
 the Bedaween as born cut-throats, as by nature thieves 
 and robbers, and who would not scruple at murder. But 
 our experience has been of the most pleasant character. 
 "We have had them in our service for weeks, and more 
 faithful servants, or those more harmless and inoffensive, 
 I never saw. We cannot help becoming attached to crea- 
 tures so simple, who seem to live in our favor, and who 
 follow us like pet spaniels. 
 
 Whenever we dismounted to walk, I observed my cam- 
 eleer looking wistfully at the vacant seat. He would not 
 have presumed to vault into his master’s saddle ; but some- 
 times I gave him a smile and a nod, when he climbed up 
 at the rear, and seating himself a few inches in front of 
 what looked more like a piece of tarred rope than a re- 
 spectable tail, with his naked and swarthy legs high in ah’, 
 rode in triumph. 
 
 Among those attached to me as my retainers was a boy, 
 
70 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 who sometimes had the honor of leading my camel. He 
 was a bright little Arab, and never looked up to me with- 
 out a smile on his face. Perhaps he saw a smile in the 
 face looking down upon him. I taught him one English 
 word — “ good ” — and the manner in which he would re- 
 peat after me “ Good, good, good,” was the amusement of 
 the whole party. How patiently he trudged along from 
 day to day, always merry, without a care — a creature of 
 the sun, living in its beams. Poor little Selim ! where is 
 he now? Watching the flock of black goats on the hill- 
 side ? Does he ever think of the Howadji ? The Howadji 
 sends him his blessing. May he too have goats and cam- 
 els, and a black tent, and the fairest daughter of the tribe 
 for his little wife, and find many an occasion to chuckle 
 within him, “ Good, good, good ! ” 
 
 Of course there are Bedaween and Bedaween. I am 
 far from thinking that all are quite so gentle as ours thus 
 far have been. More than once we have met a savage- 
 looking fellow, who seemed to be roaming about without 
 any purpose, and who certainly looked like a brigand, with 
 his cutlass at his side and his blunderbuss on his back. 
 What style of address he might have used had he met one 
 of us alone, I cannot say. Perhaps he would not have 
 stood upon forms of politeness. But seeing us well at- 
 tended and well defended, instead of demanding our 
 money or our life, he asked only tobacco to fill his pipe, 
 and went on his way perhaps a little disappointed, but not 
 altogether sullen and threatening. 
 
 I ought to add, although it is anticipating, that this 
 favorable opinion of the Bedaween was a good deal modi- 
 fied several weeks later, when we got among the robber 
 tribes on the border of Palestine. But for the present we 
 were among the gentle Tawarah, the Arabs of Sinai, of 
 whom I here record my first impressions. 
 
OUR BED A WEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 71 
 
 Such musings beguiled the weariness of the way. To- 
 wards noon we descried across the plain a projecting cliff, 
 to which we directed our course, and dismounting, threw 
 om'selves under its shade. The dragoman brought the 
 saddles from the camels, and placed them as pillows for 
 our heads. Thus stretched at length, we felt how grateful 
 beyond all words was “ the shadow of a great rock in a 
 weary land.” An hour’s rest was followed by our midday 
 meal, which was enlivened by the appearance of an unex- 
 pected guest. As we were taking our oranges and figs, 
 there rode up on his camel an Arab of somewhat com- 
 manding appearance, whom our dragoman instantly recog- 
 nized and announced as the Sheikh of all the Bedaween of 
 Sinai. He wore no sign of his rank except a red silk tunic, 
 and yet he is held in awe throughout the Peninsula, and 
 has among these wild tribes an almost unlimited authority. 
 Of course we could not be wanting in proper respect to 
 such a guest. Not to be outdone by Oriental hospitality, 
 we begged him to alight and partake of our repast — an 
 invitation which he did not wait to have repeated. To tell 
 the truth, he seemed to be blessed with a comfortable 
 appetite, and made no objection to the quality of our fare. 
 After he had feasted to his heart’s content, and while he 
 still sat on our outspread rugs, with his legs curled under 
 him like a Grand Turk, and was smoking his pipe, it oc- 
 curred to me, with true editorial instinct, that it would be 
 a good opportunity to “ interview ” him, and I signified my 
 desire to enter into a conversation, and was about to begin 
 in the abrupt American way, when Dr. Post checked me, 
 intimating that an Oriental must be approached with a 
 more formal courtesy. He asked him, therefore, a few 
 questions in regard to his family, expressing the liveliest 
 interest that the long line of emirs from which he was 
 descended, and from which he derived his authority, might 
 
72 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 nevei’ cease. At this the old man beamed upon us, recog- 
 nizing the delicate compliment, and was in the best mood 
 to impart the desired information. Thus encouraged, I 
 began : 
 
 “ How many Bedaween are there in the Peninsula of 
 Sinai ? ” 
 
 “ I have three thousand men-at-arms.” This is the way 
 in which a population is reckoned, by the number of their 
 spears ; of men capable of bearing arms. On the desert 
 one never meets an Arab without a sword at his side or a 
 gun slung on his back. The sword is commonly old and 
 rusty, and the gun plugged up at the muzzle, showing that 
 it is seldom fired off. But either sword or gun is the 
 badge of a man-at-arms, who, in case of necessity, may be 
 called by his sheikh into the field. I could not help think- 
 ing that such a rabble, armed only with flintlocks or match- 
 locks, could not be very formidable. Soldiers they could 
 hardly be called. I never saw any of them training in 
 companies, or showing signs of military discipline. A few 
 hundred men, armed with breechloaders, could march any- 
 where from one end of the Peninsula to the other. But 
 it would have been a want of tact to raise a question as 
 to the skill or prowess of the Bedaween of Sinai : I only 
 sought to know their numbers. 
 
 Leaving the field of war for that of love, I asked about 
 their marriage customs — -how the daughters of the desert 
 were wooed and won. The old sheikh took his long pipe 
 from his mouth, and while the smoke curled into the ail*, 
 he made answer in substance thus : 
 
 “Among the Arabs a maiden has nothing whatever to 
 say in regard to her marriage, being subject in all things 
 to the authority of her parents. She does not even see 
 the man whom they have chosen for her, or look upon his 
 face until the affair is settled, when she is carried veiled to 
 
OUR BED A WEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 73 
 
 his tent, and then for the first time may uncover her face, 
 and see before her her husband.” 
 
 “And how are these arrangements made ? ” 
 
 “ If a man of the tribe applies for the hand of a woman, 
 he makes a bargain as if he were buying a sword or a gun. 
 The father expects compensation, which varies according 
 to the wealth of the bridegroom and the rank of the bride. 
 The price is generally reckoned, not in money, but in 
 camels, which constitute almost the only wealth of the 
 desert. If the suitor be one of the maiden’s own relatives 
 or near friends, a single camel may be a sufficient com- 
 pensation, where two camels w'ould be expected from a 
 stranger. The latter is a large price, for a man on the 
 desert who owns six or eight camels is accounted rich. 
 A poor fellow ” (such as would be called in our Southern 
 States one of the “ low down whites ”) “ might get a girl 
 of his own inferior class for one or two Turkish pounds ” 
 (five or ten dollars). 
 
 “In fixing the value of a bride, I suppose chief regard 
 is paid to beauty ? ” . 
 
 “ Not at all. Beauty scarcely enters into the account. 
 The supreme consideration is the rank of her family. The 
 Arabs are very proud of their family, and she who can 
 boast of belonging to the first of her tribe is more prized 
 than she who is only fair to look upon.” This took me 
 quite by surprise. I could not understand how the con- 
 sideration of rank could have place among these barefooted 
 children of the desert. They all seemed to ms to stand on 
 a common level of poverty. It was like an aristocracy 
 among beggars. But Dr. Post assured me that it was so — 
 that distinctions of rank are as marked among them as in 
 the nobility of any country in Europe. He said the Arab 
 families traced back their line through generations, and 
 were very proud of their long descent — a pride which sur- 
 
74 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 vived even in the lowest degree of worldly estate. He had 
 had among his patients a descendant of the great Saladin, 
 who fought with Richard Coeur d9 Lion ; a man who was 
 blind, and whom he restored to sight by removing a cat- 
 aract from his eye, and who was yet too poor to buy him- 
 self a pair of spectacles ; and yet neither his poverty nor 
 his rags could make him forget the blood that flowed in 
 his veins. No scion of a royal house could be more proud 
 of his kingly birth. In other cases he had known emirs 
 who were regular tramps. One such used to come around 
 to beg, mounted on a brood mare worth a hundred and 
 fifty pounds ! He had a servant with him, whom he sent 
 in to prefer his request for alms, and who pleaded the high 
 rank of his master as a reason why he could not work. To 
 judge from the tone of both master and servant, it was an 
 honor conferred on the giver, that he might bestow his 
 charity on one of such long and proud descent. 
 
 Fearing lest a marriage so concluded might not be 
 always happy, our next question was “ Suppose the woman 
 who i3 thus married without her consent, does not like the 
 husband that has been given her, how is she to get rid of 
 him ? Is there any mode of relief ? ” 
 
 The old man shook his head as he answered : “ It is 
 not an easy matter. When a woman is married, she is in 
 the power of her husband. If he get3 tired of her, he 
 has but to tell her that she is divorced, and she goes back 
 to her father’s house. He does not even give her a writing 
 of divorcement, as Moses commanded the Hebrews.” 
 
 This seemed to place the advantage all on one side. But 
 pressing the matter a little further, we found that among 
 the Arabs, as everywhere else in the world, there is such a 
 thing as a woman’s revenge, and that if her lord is too 
 much of a tyrant, she can at least make him sit uneasy on 
 his throne. If she is intent on seeking relief from her 
 
OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 75 
 
 condition, the only way, said the sheihh, is to make her 
 husband’s life so uncomfortable that he shall of his own 
 motion give her a divorce and send her away. 
 
 “Then,” said Dr. Post, “if the wife does not like her 
 husband, and wants to get rid of him, she must torment 
 his life out of him and make him so miserable that he will 
 be glad to let her go.” This hit the nail so squarely on 
 the head that the old sheikh’s eyes fairly snapped, and he 
 chuckled as he answered “ Yes, yes, that’s it exactly — that’s 
 the way to do it.” We thought we had heard of such 
 things elsewhere than among the Bedaween — of many 
 a young bride sacrificed for position or for money ; for 
 whom there was no help, except as she “ tormented her 
 husband’s life out of him,” till at last divorce or death 
 brought her release. 
 
 To do the Arabs justice, it should be added that when 
 the husband has put his wife away, he cannot claim her 
 again. She may go to her family, or she may seek another 
 protector in the tribe. If he accepts her and defends her, 
 then the husband must give her a divorce. 
 
 I was curious to know about the form of Government, 
 of which the sheikh could speak by authority. It is patri- 
 archal, just as it has been from the earliest times, and 
 passes from sire to son through many generations. Our 1 
 friend who was sitting before us could trace his line for 
 hundreds of years. His power had come down from former 
 generations, and from him would pass to his descendants 
 after him. 
 
 But how about the administration of justice in a country 
 where there is no law, at least no written code, no lawyers 
 or gentlemen of the jury, and even no prison or place cf 
 execution ? Yet there must be some kind of rude justice, 
 or society could not exist. The sheikh explained that in 
 offences against property, one who steals from another 
 
76 
 
 OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANIONS. 
 
 must restore not only the amount, but many-fold. If the 
 thief runs away, the man whom he has robbed need not 
 trouble himself, for he has only to levy on his nearest rela- 
 tions. Anybody belonging to the family will do. He may 
 seize the property of a brother or cousin,' who in turn must 
 look after his rascally kinsman. This is better than all the 
 laws in the world against stealing, at least all laws which 
 could be administered against Arabs on the desert, for it 
 enlists the family feeling, which is stronger than the sense 
 of right and wrong, or even the fear of individual punish- 
 ment. A man who commits a theft brings retribution on 
 his whole household, who must suffer if he escapes, while 
 in any case his act covers them with disgrace. 
 
 As to offences against the person, there is one rigid and 
 inexorable law — a law older than Roman law, for Moses 
 found it on the desert more than three thousand years ago ; 
 it i3 the lex talionis — blood for blood, life for life. We ques- 
 tioned the sheikh very closely in regard to the blood feud, of 
 which we had heard so much. He answered, without any re- 
 serve, that by the immemorial laws of the Arabs, if one of 
 the tribe killed another, the brother of the murdered man 
 could take the law into his own hands, and kill the mur- 
 derer. Not only was he at liberty to do so, but he must 
 do it — it was a point of honor, the neglect of which would 
 be a disgrace. If the murderer ran away, then the slayer 
 need not go in pursuit of him. There is no “ law’s delay ” 
 on the desert to prevent his taking his revenge. If he can- 
 not find the murderer, he may kill the murderer’s brother, 
 or his cousin. I believe the license of revenge does no 
 farther go than to this degree of relationship ; but within < 
 this range of consanguinity the avenger may exact life for 
 life. To this extent indeed he must go. Some life he must 
 take. The blood of his brother cries from the ground, and 
 must not go unavenged. But if he kills the brother or 
 
OUR BEDAWEEN COMPANION'S. 
 
 77 
 
 cousin, he cannot then come and hill the murderer, for the 
 law of revenge is satisfied. One life has paid for the other 
 life. 
 
 This seems a terrible law— that of blood for blood ; 
 and yet it is perhaps the best law for the desert, for 
 the restraint it imposes on the passions of the people. 
 The Arab knows that the shedding of blood will bring 
 on a family feud, that will not end till the hands of his 
 victim’s brother are imbrued in his own blood ; that from 
 the instant he sheds blood, there is a mark upon his fore- 
 head like that on the forehead of Cain, giving license to 
 whoever meets him to kill him — a retribution hovering 
 round him from which he cannot escape. Though he 
 mount the swiftest dromedary, and flee across the desert, 
 though he hide in the mountains, the avenger of blood is 
 on his track, and sooner or later he must pay the penalty 
 of his deed. The knowledge of this is the most powerful 
 preventive of crime. 
 
 This ended our conversation, and the sheikh rose to 
 depart. We shook hands, and assured him of the pleasure 
 it had been to meet him, to which he responded with true 
 Oriental courtesy, and then mounted his camel and rode 
 away, with a dignity that became the lord of the desert. 
 
 Nor did we linger long behind. "We had enough to 
 think of as we mounted our camels and rode on. Toward 
 the close of the afternoon we entered a valley girt round 
 by awful summits, where by the camel-path stood a huge 
 boulder of red granite, which the Arabs say is the very one 
 struck by Moses out of which the water flowed. The set- 
 ting sun was tinging the giant heights and precipices of 
 Mount Serbal as we passed through the Yale of Bepkidim, 
 in which the Israelites fought with the Aanalekites. Soon 
 we perceived by the palm trees that we were entering the 
 oasis of Feiran, the great oasis of the wilderness of Sinai. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 No matter wliere a man may be — at borne or abroad, in 
 tbe city or in tbe wilderness — the week comes to an end, 
 and brings tbe day of rest — blessed day — never more wel- 
 come than on tbe desert. Some travellers ignore it, claim- 
 ing that tbe strict rules of Sabbatb observance wbicb ob- 
 tain in Christian communities at borne, bave no place in 
 tbe wilderness, where no man is. A caravan on tbe desert 
 is like a ship at sea, wbicb must keep on her voyage. Trav- 
 ellers are exposed to greater dangers here than on tbe 
 ocean. Not only may they be overtaken by storms ; they 
 may be attacked by robbers, who would strip them of 
 everything, and leave them to perish by exposure or by 
 famine ; so that it may be a matter of necessity and mercy 
 to press on till tbe point of danger is passed. I presume 
 not to judge those who so reason and so act. “ I speak 
 not of commandment,” but of privilege ; and only this I 
 . say, that they lose an experience which comes but rarely 
 in a lifetime, and tbe loss of wbicb they will always regret. 
 Nowhere is tbe day more needed for the physical rest 
 wbicb it brings. A week on tbe desert is a great trial of 
 strength and endurance, and one needs more time to re- 
 cover from it than tbe few hours of night. Rest is needed 
 for man and beast. As soon as we entered this oasis, even 
 tbe camels seemed to bave an instinct that a time of rest 
 bad come. Then' Sabbatb began, according to tbe Hebrew 
 custom, with Saturday evening. No sooner were they un- 
 
A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 79 
 
 loaded of their burdens than the poor tired beasts were 
 turned loose to wander by the brookside and drink at will, 
 and to crop the herbage that grew somewhat luxuriantly 
 in the valley. Our tents had been pitched on the margin 
 of the stream, the very sight of which was cooling to eyes 
 that had rested so long only on burning rocks and sands. 
 The change was a relief both to body and mind, for the 
 mind too had been under a constant tension, which needed 
 to be relaxed. And so, when we came within the circuit 
 of these hills, and under the shade of these palms, we said, 
 This is our rest, for we have desired it. "We felt the strain 
 of the week taken off, and began to unbend, and soon sank 
 down into delicious and undisturbed repose. 
 
 And when the morning broke, with returning conscious- 
 ness came the blissful thought that we had not to stir this 
 day. No voice from the desert whispered, Rise and march. 
 That alone was enough to quiet our nerves ; the heart beat 
 regularly, and the blood flowed smoothly in our veins. To- 
 day, at least, no mortal care should seize our breasts ; these 
 long, golden hours were reserved for tranquil thoughts and 
 sweet communings with our own hearts, with nature, and 
 with God. 
 
 The Sabbath had come, "^e knew it as soon as we 
 opened our eyes. Not by the unaccustomed stillness 
 which in populous cities or in villages marks the change 
 from the days of the week, for the silence of the desert is 
 so profound that it cannot be deepened. But there was 
 something which was not silence : it was Peace. There 
 was something in the deep blue heavens that were bend- 
 ing over us, that seemed to say, This is the day that the 
 Lord hath made. To enjoy it to the full, we sought for 
 greater retirement than that of our tent. Dr. Post, look- 
 ing round for the natural features of the oasis in which we 
 were camped, espied across the stream a solitary tree, an 
 
80 
 
 A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 acacia (tlie tree which furnished the shittim wood of which 
 the Ark was made), which he pronounced the most fully 
 proportioned tree he had seen on the desert. For a won- 
 der, it was of considerable size, and offered a grateful 
 shade. The air under it was cool and refreshing. To 
 this spot we removed our camp-chairs and a table, and 
 even our iron bedsteads, that, if need were, we might lie 
 down and rest ; and here we spent a long, sweet Sabbath, 
 full of a heavenly calm, with which all nature seemed to 
 be in sympathy. 
 
 Looking out from under our tree, it seemed as if all 
 living things were enjoying the rest of the day. One must 
 have been far in the desert to realize how sweet as well as 
 strange it was to see two or three little birds, not bigger 
 than sparrows, hopping about. They were very tame, at 
 least they had not been scared by the frequent presence of 
 men, and ventured quite near us, as if to make our ac- 
 quaintance ; and as they piped their feeble notes, it seemed 
 as if they were trying to sing a song of home, to cheer the 
 lonely travellers. But the creatures that enjoyed the day 
 the most were the camels. They knew that it was Sunday, 
 and enjoyed it as if it had been made for them. Just see 
 them now! I have been watching them as they roam 
 about at their own sweet will. They do not invade our 
 privacy, for they do not seek the shade, but the sunshine. 
 But sun or shade or water — all is free to them to-day. 
 Here is an old tramper of the desert now standing before 
 me. I hear a singular gurgling noise, as if a brook were 
 running down his throat. He is sucking up the water out 
 of the cistern which nature has provided as a reservoir 
 within him, into his stomach. Who would not rest on 
 such a day, when even the brute creation feel the blessed- 
 ness of repose ? 
 
 But we found beneath the shade more than mere phys- 
 
A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 81 
 
 ical rest. Our tree was but a little alcove in a great tem- 
 ple, of which the full proportions — walls and columns and 
 domes — were in the mighty amphitheatre of the hills. 
 Here we were in a deep valley, surrounded by mountains ; 
 while above us towered Serbal, like Mont Blanc above the 
 Yale of Chamouni. Never did I realize before the full 
 meaning, as well as beauty, of the words, “ The mountains 
 bring peace ” ; they are so great and strong, standing fast 
 forever, that they preach peace to mortals vexed with petty 
 cares. That peace encompassed us round to-day. We 
 seemed to be in a place of prayer ; and though there was 
 no sound of the church-going bell to awaken these soli- 
 tudes, yet we had found a sanctuary in which we could 
 worship as truly as beneath the swelling dome or in the 
 long-drawn aisle. Here we could sit and read our Bibles, 
 and worship God. 
 
 We had not indeed forgotten this worship on any day 
 of the week. Making a little family, we never forgot the 
 blessed institution of family prayers. This it was not 
 always possible to observe in our tent ; but after we had 
 begun the day’s march, we found by the wayside “the 
 shadow of a great rock,” or some other quiet nook, where 
 we could stop to read our Bibles. Dr. Post had always in 
 his pocket his Arabic Bible, which is said to be very much 
 like the Hebrew, from which he read the account of the 
 wanderings of the Israelites in the wilderness. It was 
 quite natural that an Eastern book, translated into an 
 Eastern language, should preserve a certain couleur locale — 
 a reilection not only of the natural scenery amid which, but 
 of the manners and customs of the people among whom 
 and by whom, it was written — not always retained in our 
 Western version ; and I found that the Bible so read and 
 translated into English for my benefit, had a freshness and 
 beauty which I had not perceived before. The story of 
 
82 
 
 A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 the wanderings became more real since we were amid the 
 very scenes through which the Israelites passed. And 
 after reading this, how sweet to think that we could com- 
 mit ourselves to the care of Him who had led them across 
 these very deserts and through these very mountains, going 
 before them as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire 
 by night ! More blessed still was the privilege of commit- 
 ting to Him those dearer to us than our own life. Never 
 in our prayers do we forget the loved ones far away. 
 Across the desert and the sea our hearts go to them with 
 a love and a longing that distance does but make the 
 stronger. Perhaps He who is in every place, and whose 
 ear is ever open, will hear our lowly cry from the sands of 
 the desert, and fold them in His arms of infinite tenderness. 
 
 While enjoying the natural beauty of this valley among 
 the mountains, we do not forget that it is a spot of great 
 historical interest. It was a scene of stirring events in the 
 history of the Hebrews, and a centre of monastic life in the 
 early Christian centuries. Here camped the Israelites. 
 They fought to obtain possession of this valley ; and stand- 
 ing here to-day, it is easy to see why they fought for it ; 
 it was simply to get water. They had marched across the 
 desert ; they had toiled wearily through barren mountains, 
 where no stream or fountain quenched their thirst. Moses 
 had struck the rock from which gushed forth water to keep 
 them from perishing. But a little in advance of him was 
 a valley watered by an ever-flowing stream. Access to it 
 was barred by the Amalekites, and he fought to force a 
 passage. I am well aware that there is a question among 
 Biblical scholars whether the mountain pass through which 
 we have just come is Rephidim, but such is the universal 
 tradition ; and so also has tradition fixed on the sharp 
 peak which rises up right in front of us as the one which 
 Mose3 ascended to pray while the battle was going on, and 
 
A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 S3 
 
 where Aaron and Hur held up his hands. Late in the 
 afternoon we climbed this peak, and stood on the very 
 spot where Moses knelt and prayed, and looked on the very 
 scene on which he looked on that eventful day which was 
 to decide the fate of Israel, when his hopes rose and fell, 
 for the battle was long, and ended not till the going down 
 of the sun. It was sunset when we stood there, and it 
 required little imagination to conceive of the great Hebrew 
 Lawgiver at that hour rising from his knees, his prayers 
 turned to praise as he saw the Amalekites fleeing through 
 the passes of the mountains. 
 
 Some I know would look on this scene with very differ- 
 ent feelings. A popular lecturer has undertaken to expose 
 the Mistakes of Moses, and in following the narrative of 
 the Exodus, he denounces the entrance of the Israelites 
 into the Peninsula of Sinai as an unprovoked invasion of 
 the territory of a peaceful neighbor — an act which was not 
 merely a mistake, but a crime. This censure of Moses is 
 not new. There is nothing in the Bible which is a more 
 frequent subject of attack than the alleged cruelty of the 
 Hebrew leader in forcing his way among an unoffending 
 people. But let not the critics be too hasty in judgment. 
 We must take large views of things. The Exodus from 
 Egypt was one of those great migrations of nations of 
 which we read in history, movements accomplished by 
 great suffering and great sacrifices, as when, in this very 
 jCase, the whole Hebrew people perished in the wilderness, 
 'yet through which comes at last the deliverance of nations 
 and the general progress of mankind. Colonel Ingersoll 
 is an ardent advocate of liberty, and a fierce denouncer of 
 slavery in every form. We presume he would think slaves 
 justified in fleeing from bondage, and seeking their free- 
 dom, even if the end could not be gained except at the 
 price of the sacrifice of precious lives — their own and 
 
84 
 
 A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 their masters. If, in the times before our civil war, two 
 millions of slaves had risen up in the night, and made an 
 exodus from the South, their “ house of bondage”; and if, 
 in order to find a refuge far away — a lodge in some vast 
 wilderness, where they could enjoy their freedom, with 
 none to molest or make them afraid — they had started for 
 some remote and almost uninhabited region of Northern 
 Mexico ; and, when marching on in great battalions, with 
 their wives and little children, had been stopped in their 
 progress by bands of Apache Indians ; would it have been 
 a great wrong for them to force then’ way ? 
 
 Let the assailants of Moses sneer as they will. The 
 more I see of the desert, the more the miracle of the Exo- 
 dus grows upon me, and the more profound the reverence 
 I feel for that stern old Hebrew Cromwell, who was the 
 leader of the Israelites in that great crisis of their his- 
 tory. In all our marches the past week, that presence has 
 never been absent. The figure of Moses is the one great 
 figure which gives supreme interest to this land of deso- 
 lation. When we pass through deep mountain gorges, the 
 cliffs on either hand take on a new interest as I think that 
 they have looked upon Moses as he passed by, perhaps 
 with a countenance grave and downcast, bearing the bur- 
 den of a nation on his mighty heart. Often doubtless did 
 he lie down in these dark mountain recesses, with only a 
 stone for a pillow, and look up to the stars shining in this 
 clear Arabian sky, and wonder if the God whom he wor- 
 shipped would carry him through. In the battle which was 
 fought on this ground more than three thousand years ago, 
 it was not only the Israelites fighting with the Amalekites : 
 it was the battle of civilization with barbarism. Never 
 was a truer, as well as more eloquent saying than that of a 
 great student of history, Bunsen : that “ History was bom 
 on the night when Moses led the Israelites out of the land 
 
A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 85 
 
 of Goshen.” Egypt indeed had been an empire for we 
 know pot how many centuries or millenniums. But it had 
 no history. Its record, preserved to us in monuments and 
 inscriptions, is a mere chronology — a catalogue of succes- 
 sive dynasties, as utterly dry and dead as the mummies of 
 its buried kings. That is not history. But the Exodus 
 was the beginning of a series of events, unfolding through 
 centuries, which marked a steady movement of the nations. 
 "When Moses fought with Amalek, he carried in his right 
 hand the destiny of millions yet unborn. If he had per- 
 ished on that fatal day, there would have been no Com- 
 monwealth of England, and no Commonwealths in New 
 England ; the dial of human progress would have been 
 set back a thousand years. 
 
 This oasis has been made famous also in a history 
 more recent than that of Moses. In the early centuries it 
 was a great resort for monks. A Convent stood on a hill 
 which is but a few hundred yards from our camp, where 
 its ruins are yet to be seen ; while all round the valley the 
 sides of the hill are pierced with cells, in which the monks 
 passed their lives. They were not, strictly speaking, her- 
 mits, for hermits live in solitude ; but Cenobites, who live 
 in communities. There must have been a large commu- 
 nity here, to judge from the number of cells by which the 
 mountains are honeycombed. We climbed up to some of 
 them, and found them hewn in the solid rock, and but a 
 few feet square. Yet these were the only homes of the 
 monks, in which they passed their lives in prayer and med- 
 itation. Here they ate and slept and prayed and died — in 
 little stone cells, hardly high enough for a man to stand 
 upright in, though long enough for him to lie down ; 
 which indeed had more of the shape and dimensions of 
 a sarcophagus than of a place of human habitation. Nor 
 is one surprised to learn that the monks were buried at 
 
86 
 
 A SABBATH IX THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 last in the same rock-hewn sepulchres in which they had 
 passed a living death. For such a religion I have no sym- 
 pathy. Such lives are of no benefit to anybody. Self- 
 denial for the sake of doing good to others, is according 
 to the law of Christ. But suffering endured as a penance, 
 self-inflicted torture, is far away from the spirit of the 
 Gospel. I can feel no admiration for that religion which 
 thinks to merit heaven by making earth a hell. 
 
 But the day was drawing to a close, and we were in no 
 mood to indulge in criticism even of the false piety of a 
 former age. Rather would we give ourselves up to the 
 tender associations of the place and the hour. To com- 
 plete the charm of this perfect day, to-night the moon 
 reached the full. The scene was unearthly as she rose 
 above the tops of the mountains, and shone down into the 
 deep, lonely valley. It seemed as if the peace of God were 
 resting on the face of the earth — not 
 
 “ The peace that sages in meditation found,” 
 but a peace from the Infinite Presence, which filled the 
 spaces of the silent air ; and as if more than one sleeper 
 on the desert might have a vision in his dreams of a lad- 
 der whose top touched heaven, with angels ascending and 
 descending upon it. How can we help serious thoughts 
 in the strange scenes in which we are ? Here we tarry but 
 a night ; to-morrow we resume our march. The wander- 
 ings of the Israelites are a type of that pilgrimage which 
 we are all making through the wilderness of this world. 
 If we are only marching in the right direction, we need 
 not fear to move on day by day, glad to know that each 
 day’s march brings us nearer to the end : 
 
 “ Here in the body pent, 
 
 Absent from Thee I roam, 
 
 Yet nightly pitch my moving tent, 
 
 A day’s march nearer home.” 
 
CHAPTER YU. 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 We had not yet come unto Mount Sinai, but we liad 
 come to another mountain which disputes with Sinai the 
 claim to be the Mount of the Law, and which cannot be 
 passed by without a fixed and steady gaze. No traveller 
 on the desert fails to see Serbal, for it is of such impos- 
 ing majesty, standing alone and dwarfing all surrounding 
 heights, that it is seen afar off above the tops of the moun- 
 tains. Nor is it visible only on the Peninsula, but at a 
 great distance beyond, both on land and sea. Those who 
 pass up and down the Red Sea catch sight of it as the 
 great object on the horizon ; and beyond the waters both 
 of Suez and of Akaba, it is seen at once from the shores 
 of Africa and of Arabia. 
 
 I shall never forget a view of Serbal that we had from 
 the top of the Nakb el-Budra (the Pass of the Sword’s 
 Point), one or two long marches before we came under 
 his shadow. We had been all day moving slowly through 
 a succession of wadies, which were like mountain gorges, 
 when we came into a naiTow pass, where our advance 
 was stopped by high barriers of rock, which we scaled 
 only by turning from side to side as by a winding stair. 
 When we had climbed to the top, a new horizon was 
 opened before us far to the South, which uncovered a 
 sea of mountains, in the midst of which uprose Serbal, 
 towering above them all. From that moment we never 
 lost sight of this monarch of mountains, but were all the 
 
88 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 while approaching nearer and nearer, till now we were in 
 his very presence. 
 
 But to see Serbal is one thing, and to ascend it is quite 
 another. This is not in the usual programme of a pilgrim- 
 age to Mount Sinai. Although the caravan route winds 
 round its base, most travellers only look up with awe at 
 that majestic form, and pass by at a respectful distance. 
 They almost shudder at the sight of its tremendous cliffs, 
 and are quite willing to leave them unsealed. But Dr. 
 Post, who is of an aspiring mind in such matters, was not 
 so easily satisfied. No sooner did Serbal show its head in 
 the distance than it seemed to fascinate him, and he began 
 to throw out hints like these : “ What a grand thing it 
 would be to climb yonder awful height ! ” and “ How far 
 below us, in every sense, should we leave ordinary pil- 
 grims ! ” until he gradually poisoned my innocent mind 
 with his ambition. The dragoman said nothing, for he 
 was not allowed to say anything, his only place being to 
 carry out the will of his imperious masters. He only sug- 
 gested meekly that, as it was a long day’s march, we should 
 need to start very early in the morning. To this we had 
 no objection. Indeed having once got the idea into our 
 heads, the only way to get it out was to make the attempt. 
 This once decided upon, the idea haunted me even in my 
 dreams. Half a dozen times in the night I rose and went 
 to the door of the tent, and looked out to see if there were 
 not some faint forerunner of the dawn ; but the full moon 
 still rode high in heaven, and poured down a flood of light 
 on mountain and valley, and rock and ruin, and on the 
 white tents, around which Arabs and camels were sleep- 
 ing motionless as if in death. But long before daybreak 
 there was a stir in the camp. The fire was lighted, the 
 cook was bustling about, and the coffee sent forth a sweet 
 smell. The cameleers had brought up our beasts to the 
 
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 89 
 
 tents, where they were lying stretched on the soft sand, 
 waiting for their riders. The moon had but just dipped 
 behind the hills, and the sun had not yet given a sign of 
 his coming, when we vaulted into the saddle and set out 
 upon our march, following a trail up a wady worn in the 
 course of ages by a torrent, which had washed down great 
 boulders that at every step blocked our advance. The 
 path turned and twisted, till it seemed almost impossible 
 to force a passage. Hoav far we went on camels’ backs, 
 I cannot tell ; certainly not over three or four miles, for 
 it would have taken a quick stepper to make two miles 
 an hour up such a pass. This slow march would have 
 been very tiresome, and wearied us even at the begin- 
 ning of the day, were it not that our eyes were soon fas- 
 cinated by the scene which was beginning to dawn upon 
 us. As we crept slowly upward, streaks of light amxounced 
 the coming of the day ; and as soon as the sun rose above 
 the Eastern mountains, it stnxck across the valley to the 
 grander heights before us. Sei’bal, though standing alone, 
 is not a solitary peak, but rather a group, or a giant mass, 
 splintered into columnar shapes, thus making five separate 
 columns, which were touched in succession by the sun as 
 he rose higher and higher. The effect recalled a memora- 
 ble suni’ise on the Himalayas, with this difference, that 
 there it fell on glittei’ing pinnacles of snow, where now it 
 lighted up only great masses of rock ; but as these were 
 of red granite, they seemed to be kindled by the morning 
 sun, so that if the Persian fire-woi’shippers had been here, 
 they might well have uncovered their heads, and stood 
 silent and reverent at the sight of those flaming altars in 
 the sky. 
 
 For about two hours our camels kept on their toilsome 
 climb, till we came to a point where they could not move 
 another step. Here was just space among the rocks for 
 
90 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 them to kneel down, and be lightened of their burdens. 
 The rest of the ascent must be made on foot. Our way 
 led up a chasm that cleft in twain two of the massive forms 
 of Serbal. We started, not very vigorously, but slowly, to 
 reserve our strength. We soon found that we had need of 
 it, for we were in for a task requiring oui- utmost endur- 
 ance. The ascent was often at an angle of forty-five de- 
 grees ; indeed in many cases it was almost perpendicular. 
 It was climbing over huge granite boulders weighing hun- 
 dreds of tons, or turning around them. Sometimes we 
 fell upon our hands and feet, and could only crawl where 
 we could not walk upright. So we went, feeling our way 
 around the points of rocks, and creeping along the edge 
 of precipices, where a single false step would have given 
 us a fearful, probably a fatal, plunge. Indeed I could not 
 have got on at all but for the Arabs, who led the way, 
 springing forward like catamounts, and clinging to the 
 rocks with their bare feet, and reaching out their long, 
 sinewy arms to grasp mine, which were extended upward, 
 while another swarthy creature would come behind to give 
 me a “ boost.” Once or twice I sank down quite exhaust- 
 ed, and the dragoman cast on me a look of pity as he said 
 “ I so sorry ! ” and even Dr. Post, who thought I had found 
 the undertaking more than I bargained for, advised me to 
 give it up. But it is not in my nature to give up a thing 
 when once I have undertaken it. I asked only for an occa- 
 sional breathing spell. 
 
 While lying stretched on the rocks, lest the scene should 
 become too tragic, it was relieved by a touch of the comic, 
 which is seldom absent in the society of my irrepressible 
 countrymen. Accompanying us up the mountain was the 
 other party of which I have spoken, in which were a couple 
 of college students. Young America does not pay much 
 respect to times and places. Just as my thoughts were 
 
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 91 
 
 becoming subclued to a solemn mood, that might best find 
 expression in the fearful lines beginning 
 
 “ My thoughts on awful subjects roll,” 
 
 I heard coming round the cliff a strain of a different char- 
 acter. It was not exactly Church-music, and yet it sound- 
 ed familiar. Where had I heard it ? It began 
 
 “ The shades of night were falling fast, 
 
 As through an Alpine village passed 
 A youth, who bore, ’mid snow and ice, 
 
 A banner with the strange device — 
 
 Excelsior 1 ” 
 
 and was followed by the chorus so familiar to college boys, 
 and which is given out with the greater force of lungs, as 
 it is incomprehensible in meaning : “ Upiclee ! Upicla ! ” 
 And as if this were not enough to banish all the sacred 
 associations of the place, next came this still more irrever- 
 ential strain : 
 
 “ The waiter roared it through the hall — 
 
 We don’t give bread with one fishball I ” 
 
 These were strange sounds indeed to be echoed back 
 from the cliffs and down the abysses of Mount Serbal. 
 But they did me more good than the most majestic psalm, 
 for the sudden revulsion of feeling made me forget my 
 weariness, and a few minutes enabled me to recover breath 
 for a fresh spring. And so at last, pushed and pulled and 
 hauled by the Arabs, and almost carried in their black 
 arms, I reached the top. The ascent had taken six hours. 
 
 We found the summit not a peak so much as a dome — 
 a rounded mass of granite. Serbal is about the height of 
 Mount Washington, but this gives no impression of its 
 real grandeur : for while Mount Washington rises by a 
 gradual slope, its sides being covered with forests, Serbal 
 rises so perpendicularly that its five separate masses ap- 
 pear, as I have said, like gigantic columns, lifting their 
 
92 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 heads against the sky. We stood on the brow of a preci- 
 pice, which might well make one shudder as he advanced 
 to the point of the cliff, and looked over to a depth of four 
 thousand feet. 
 
 And what at last did we gain by all this? Only the 
 disappointment that waits on ambition ? or enough to re- 
 pay us for the fatigue of this tremendous climb ? We saw 
 beneath us a panorama as extensive as that seen from the 
 Eighi ; only, instead of the smiling cantons of Switzer- 
 land, with green fields and waving forests and crystal 
 lakes, we saw only the barrenness of utter desolation, yet 
 in such awful forms as produced an impression of inde- 
 scribable grandeur. All round us the horizon was piled 
 with mountains. Indeed the whole Peninsula is a sea of 
 mountains, in which peaks on peaks are tossed up like 
 waves. It seems as if they had been thrown up out of 
 a lake of fire ; as if in a remote geological period, when 
 the body of our planet was a molten mass, and material 
 forces were acting with an intensity and violence of which 
 we have no conception, in some tremendous convulsion 
 the flaming crests were tossed against the sky, and then 
 suddenly arrested by the Creator’s hand, which held them 
 fixed in their utmost wildness, so to remain forever. But 
 it may be a question whether this jagged outline was caused 
 by throwing up or by wearing down. My companion, sur- 
 veying the scene, not “ with a poet’s eye, in a fine frenzy 
 rolling,” but with the patient observation of science, re- 
 ports that “ these peaks are all water-worn, the result of the 
 gradual degradation of masses which were probably over- 
 laid by stratified rocks, and entombed under the sea ; and 
 that after their submersion and emergence, and the wearing 
 away of their sandstone and limestone coverings, the gran- 
 ite masses were splintered by lightning, shivered by frost, 
 cracked by the heat of the sun, and worn by storms, into 
 
.THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 93 
 
 their present forms.” Hence their infinite variety. There 
 is not one long chain, like the Pyrenees or the Ape nn i n es, 
 of a general average height and form, but innumerable 
 peaks, sharp and pointed, as if piercing the sky, while 
 other summits are broad and dome-like, as if the very 
 heavens might rest on the support of such “ everlasting 
 hills.” And these mountains are unlike those of other 
 countries in being more barren and desolate. I have seen 
 mountains in all parts of the world, and have found in 
 almost every case that they had some feature of beauty 
 mingled with their ruggedness, which took away somewhat 
 of their desolate character. However lofty their eleva- 
 tion, their ascent was gradual, extending over many miles, 
 whereby they sloped down gently to the valleys below, and 
 their lower sides were clothed with vegetation, which re- 
 lieved their sterner aspect and softened their rugged grand- 
 eur. Not so here. The mountains of Sinai rise up ab- 
 ruptly from the plain, looking more like columns than 
 pyramids ; and as their substance is the hardest granite, 
 which affords little support to vegetation, they have a 
 bare, bald aspect, for which they are sometimes called 
 the Alps unclothed. 
 
 Between these awful mountains, and winding round 
 among them in countless turnings, are the wadies of which 
 I have spoken — river beds, through which, in the time 
 of rains and storms, there pour furious torrents, which 
 as quickly pass away to the sea, leaving behind them 
 only the traces of the ruin they have made. Of these 
 wadies, one here obtains the most complete view. See 
 how they wind and wind, turning hither and thither in 
 endless confusion ! Here then we have the complete 
 anatomy of the Sinaitic Peninsula. One takes it in at a 
 glance in its whole extent, from end to end, and from 
 side to side. It is enclosed on the east and the west by 
 
94 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 the two arms of the Red Sea — the Gulfs of Suez and of 
 Akaba. The former seemed to lie at our feet, and follow- 
 ing it with the eye, we could almost see the city of Suez 
 itself. The Gulf of Akaba was farther away, and was hid- 
 den from us by intervening mountains. It lies in a de- 
 pression, but over it and beyond it we saw distinctly the 
 long range of the mountains of Arabia, as across the Gulf 
 of Suez we saw the mountains of Africa ; while southward 
 rose the great heights of Mount Catherine and Um Shom- 
 mer. What a glorious vision of mountains to be embraced 
 in one view ! One such sight were enough to repay a hun- 
 dred times the fatigue of our climb to the summit of Serbal : 
 
 “ ’Twere wor! h ten years of peaceful life — 
 
 One glance at that array.” 
 
 And what memories did those names recall ! That Gulf 
 of Suez was the sea across which Moses led the Israelites ; 
 on the Gulf of Akaba sailed the fleets of Solomon ; while 
 turning northward the eye rested on a long line of white 
 cliffs — the escarpment of a table-land which was the Great 
 and Terrible Wilderness in which the Israelites wandered 
 forty years. Thus a wonderful nature was chosen for a 
 wonderful history. It is this mingling of the moral sub- 
 lime with the sublime in nature which makes the great 
 interest of the Peninsula of Sinai. Beyond all the stupen- 
 dous altitudes of the mountains, beyond the Alpine heights 
 and fathomless abysses, in power to stir the soul with awe, 
 is the human history that has been enacted amid these 
 great forms of nature. Serbal is clothed with such asso- 
 ciations as with a garment. Long before the Exodus of 
 the Israelites — long before Moses fed the flocks of Jethro 
 by Mount Iloreb — Serbal was an object of patriotic and 
 superstitious veneration, the centre of a nation and the 
 centre of a religion. Here were lighted fires to give warn- 
 ing to the tribes of the Peninsula, as fires were lighted on 
 
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 95 
 
 Monte Cavo near Rome, as signals to the tribes of Latium. 
 The Peninsula then was doubtless far more populous than 
 now, many tribes dwelling in yonder valleys, within full 
 view of this mountain height, so that when the beacon-fire 
 was lighted here in the darkness of night, it shone in thou- 
 sands of eyes which glared fiercely at the sign of battle. 
 Nor was it patriotism alone which fired those warriors of 
 the desert. Serbal, as its name imports — the palm-grove 
 of Baal * — was a mountain devoted to that idolatrous ser- 
 vice ; it was the highest of all the “ high places ” set apart 
 for that cruel and bloody worship. Here the priests of 
 Baal erected their altars. On the top is still a rude cairn of 
 stones, which may have stood here from the remotest times. 
 This may have been one of their altars, which smoked with 
 human sacrifices. Who could believe, when standing on 
 such a spot, amid such scenes, so grand and yet so still 
 and peaceful, that man could thus defile the noblest works 
 of God ; how, unawed by such grandeur, he was capable 
 of deeds that thrill us with horror — deeds of such cru- 
 elty and crime ! When I reached the top, I threw myself 
 down upon a shelf of rock, in which there was a slight 
 indentation, a hollow such as is sometimes worn by the 
 action of water, which seemed as if made on purpose to 
 receive the head of a poor pilgrim. This I took for a pil- 
 low, and here, stretched at full length, gave one long, 
 
 * The late Professor Palmer, who was at once master of 
 Arabic and an indefatigable explorer in the Peninsula of Sinai, 
 derived the name from another Arabic word, sirbcil, signifying a 
 shirt or coat-of-mail, which might have been suggested by the 
 appearance of the mountain in a storm, when the floods de- 
 scended on its dome- like head, and poured in innumerable silver 
 streams down its rocky sides. Whether that be the true etymol- 
 ogy of the name or not, the image it presents is very striking 
 and beautiful. 
 
96 
 
 THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAL. 
 
 steady gaze up into the blue sky. Hard indeed was 
 it to realize that this very rock had borne up the bloody 
 altars of Baal, and that these tranquil heavens had heard 
 the shrieks of human victims. The very memory of such 
 things still brings a shadow over the scene, like the shad- 
 ows of the clouds that were at that moment sailing across 
 the heavens above us. Well was it that Moses invaded 
 these mountains and valleys, to extirpate not indeed such 
 a race, but such a religion. The descendants of the Baal- 
 worshippers are here still, but their worship, like the wor- 
 ship of Moloch, has perished forever. 
 
 As to the question whether Serbal or Sinai were the 
 Mount of the Law, I am not so rash as to enter into a con- 
 troversy in which both explorers and interpreters differ so 
 widely. Dean Stanley states at once the advantage of Ser- 
 bal and the objection to it, when he says that it would be 
 impossible to find a more commanding height for giving 
 the law, were there only a plain or valley below the Mount 
 for receiving it. This circumstance has great weight, and 
 yet I cannot think it decisive : for it assumes what it is 
 by no means necessary to suppose, that all the Israelites 
 stood together in a compact mass. Certainly there is no 
 broad plain under Serbal, like that of Er Bahah under 
 Sinai. Rephidim is comparatively but a mountain pass, 
 to which Dr. Post returned after we had entered Wady 
 Feiran, to measure it with a careful eye. He found it 
 but a mile long and a third of a mile wide — a space ample 
 for the battle with the Amalekites, for J oshua “ chose out ” 
 his men, and they might have been only a few thousands, 
 but quite inadequate to contain the two millions of people 
 supposed to have been present at the giving of the Law. 
 But why must we take it for granted that all stood in one 
 vast plain, in ranks and battalions, like an army ? There 
 are half a dozen wadies from which they might see the top of 
 
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT SERI5AL. 
 
 97 
 
 Serbal. They may have been scattered over a space many 
 miles square, filling up the depths of the valleys and over- 
 flowing the tops of the hills. The sides of the mountains 
 may have been black with the dense masses ; and away 
 yonder, on the shore of the Eed Sea, is a sandy beach or 
 plain, where there is space enough not only for the con- 
 gregation of Israel, but we might almost say for the army 
 of the dead if they were to rise up as at the Day of Judg- 
 ment. All were within sight and hearing of the awful 
 Mount. All might have seen the lightnings from the 
 cloud, and heard the thunderings and “ the voice of the 
 trumpet sounding long and waxing louder and louder.” 
 So it might have been. How it was, we can perhaps judge 
 better after we have ascended the cliffs of Sinai. 
 
CHAPTER VTTT. 
 
 COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 That ascent of Serhal nearly finished me. It took 
 about as long to descend as to ascend, and the descent 
 was hardly less fatiguing. The next morning I awoke 
 with not quite the elation I had the day before, but rather 
 feeling as if I had been beaten from head to foot ; as if, 
 forsooth, one of the old monks, who had been laid to rest 
 a thousand years ago, enraged to have his sleep disturbed, 
 had crawled out of his cell and crept down the mountain 
 side to administer to an intruder the discipline of flagella- 
 tion. However, I “picked myself up ” and began to “pull 
 myself together,” and found that there was something of 
 me left, and none the worse for a little rough experience. 
 
 I find generally that what costs nothing is worth nothing ; 
 and so, if this mountain climb had cost a good deal, it 
 was worth it all in visions and memories which it left 
 behind, which can hardly fade as long as mind and mem- 
 ory endure. Amid the lighter impressions of the scene 
 (as a contrast and relief to those which were more grand 
 and sombre), there was a glimpse of our Arab compan- 
 ions which was not unpleasing. "When we first looked 
 down from the top of Serbal, it seemed as if we were 
 looking into the burnt-out crater of a volcano, where all < 
 animate existence was extinguished. But it was not utterly 
 destitute of life. With a spy-glass, one could detect the 
 signs of human habitation. In the foreground was the 
 camp which we had left at daylight in the morning, and 
 
COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 99 
 
 sprinkled here and there among the palms of the Wady 
 Feiran were the tents of Arabs. Turning to points still 
 farther away, to the very ends of the wadies, one could see 
 little black patches in the yellow sand, which we had 
 learned to recognize as Arab 'villages. Strictly speaking, 
 the Arab has no village ; he is a nomad, whose only house 
 is a tent, who camps wherever he can find a stream of 
 water, or a little pasturage for his camels, and when that 
 is gone, “folds his tent and silently steals away.” How 
 can human beings live in such frightful solitudes ? “ Why 
 
 do you not leave this desolate region,” said Dr. Post to one 
 of our guides, “ and go to Suez or Cairo, where you can 
 find the companionship of men ? ” “ Oh, no,” said the 
 
 Arab, “we cannot leave our mountains and valleys.” 
 “And do you really love them ? ” “ Oh, yes,” he answered 
 
 with all the fervor of a Swiss mountaineer in exile, sighing 
 for the cowbells of the llanz des V aches. The Doctor was 
 standing on the topmost rock of Serbal, with his spy-glass 
 in hand, following the winding wadies as they swept round 
 and round the base of the mountains. The guide was 
 watching his movements, and observing the instrument 
 pointed in a certain direction, he followed it with eager 
 curiosity. Noticing the expression of his countenance, the 
 Doctor put the glass to his eyes, pointing it to the valley. 
 A moment passed, and a smile stole over the swarthy face 
 of the Bedawee— an expression of wonder and surprise 
 and pleasure. He had recognized the village of his people. 
 There were the little flocks of black goats dotting the hill- 
 side. He saw the tents of his tribe, and the children 
 sporting in the sand : 
 
 “ There were his young barbarians all at play.” 
 
 What wonder that he loved the spot ? Poor and wretched 
 as it was, it was his home, and he would not paid from it 
 for all the delights of civilization. 
 
100 
 
 COMINO TO TIIE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 But it is not only the feeling of home, hut the feeling 
 of liberty, that attaches the Arab to his mountains and 
 deserts. He loves the freedom of the "wilderness, which is 
 more to him than soft raiment and kings’ houses. From 
 long wandering there is a restlessness in his very blood 
 which cannot be tamed. “ Every kind of beasts is tamed, 
 and hath been tamed, of mankind ” : man himself alone 
 remains untamable. One might as well think of taming 
 the wildest Camanches as the Bedaween. They are an 
 untamable race. True children of Ishmael, they have 
 roamed these deserts three thousand years untouched by 
 civilization. I have sometimes amused myself by thinking 
 what would be the result of an experiment to civilize a 
 Bedawee. If he were to be taken to Paris, to be dressed 
 in European costume, and made in his exterior like a man 
 of the gay world, and taught all the luxuries and the vices 
 of civilization, yet in his moments of pleasure there would 
 creep over his face the expression of melancholy which 
 seems to belong to the Oriental races, and at the first 
 moment he would escape from his golden chains, from a 
 life which was a bondage and slavery, and fly to his desert, 
 to his tent and his camel. 
 
 With such memories and musings, we began our next 
 morning’s march. When we turned our backs on the 
 Oasis of Wady Feiran, it was like leaving home. How 
 soon the traveller on the desert gets a feeling of home for 
 a spot where he has camped by the brookside and under 
 the trees, where peace has come to him as he sat before 
 his tent door in the cool of the day, when the evening 
 wind gently stirred the leaves of the palms over his head. 
 Three days before, this oasis w T as as utterly unknown to us 
 as if it were a valley among the mountains of Central Asia. 
 Nowit had become dear by that Sabbath in the wilder- 
 ness, by the ascent of Serbal, and even by our faintness 
 
COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 101 
 
 and weariness, for it is the spots in our earthly pilgrimage 
 where we have been faint and weary which linger longest 
 in the memory and the heart. To be sure, we were foot- 
 sore as we rose up for the duties of the day, but our spirits 
 were light if our limbs were heavy. Our way led along 
 the bed of the little stream, which was overhung by palms. 
 Nowhere have we seen so many palms since we entered 
 the desert, and they are not like the palms of Egypt, naked 
 trunks, with but a tuft of leaves at the top, but are feath- 
 ered from the ground, and thus spread out their foliage in 
 all the wildness and beauty of nature. No wonder this 
 water-course is a great attraction for the Bedaween, who 
 gather here with their flocks and herds. Up to this time 
 we had seen scarcely a living animal on the desert, except 
 the camels and the little black goats, which furnish the 
 Arab with milk, and with haircloth for his cloaks and his 
 tents. But once to-day we saw several sheep, and perhaps 
 half a dozen little donkeys ! Beally, after healing for so 
 many days only the grunting of camels, it was some relief 
 to hear the good honest bray of an ass. Twice we passed 
 through narrow gates in the rocks, which seemed as if 
 caused by a rush of waters, and in which Dr. Post found 
 proof that these wadies were formerly the beds of lakes, 
 which had broken through these gates and thus been 
 drained oft' to the sea. Storms still sweep through them 
 at times with tremendous fury. In 1867 an English trav- 
 eller witnessed one of these in the Wady Feiran, when the 
 water rose so rapidly that he had to flee to the hills for his 
 life, as the whole valley, three hundred yards wide, became 
 the bed of a river eight to ten feet deep, that swept along 
 like an Alpine torrent. 
 
 As we advanced, the wady grew wider, and broadened 
 out into a kind of upland valley, while the hills sank lower. 
 Weary as we were, we made a long march, for the cam- 
 
102 
 
 COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 els had rested two days, and now strode forward with 
 quick steps. But though we had a rest under a cliff at 
 noon, we were very, very tired ere the day was done. It 
 was a pity that we were so, for we camped in a spot where 
 one would wish to have all his senses at command, to take 
 in the fullest enjoyment. We had come through a wady 
 that was one of the longest and widest in the Peninsula, 
 and camped at the very end, from which, looking back, we 
 had such a view of Serbal as it was worth travelling many 
 days to see, his five columns seeming like the very portals 
 of the Celestial City as they stood up clear against the west- 
 ern sky. But I was too weary to enjoy the sight even of 
 the gates of the New Jerusalem, and no sooner were our 
 tents pitched and our camp-beds spread than I threw my- 
 self down and fell asleep. Dr. Post, in a private letter 
 written months afterward, alludes, among the experiences 
 on the desert which he so vividly remembers, to “our 
 fatigues and sickness and perils.” These are things that 
 we do not often speak of. But now that it is all over, I 
 think I can say that that night he was in grave anxiety. 
 I saw it in his face as he watched the symptoms with a 
 fear which he afterwards confessed, though he did not 
 dare then to express, that the morning would find in the 
 tent a patient with a raging fever. His watchfulness and 
 skill checked it. When morning came, I was still very 
 weak and feverish, but not for a moment did I think of 
 remaining in camp. On the desert, sick or well, one must 
 press on. It is death to stop long, although it may seem 
 like death to move. And as we were within half a day’s 
 march of Sinai, it was worth rising up even from a sick 
 bed to make a last effort. 
 
 We were now to cross a rugged pass, which leads over 
 into the broad valley or plain that slopes to the foot of 
 Mount Sinai. It is fitly called the Pass of the Winds, 
 
COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 103 
 
 since it seems as if all the elements — not only winds, but 
 floods and storms, and tempest in every form, with thun- 
 der and lightning — had been let loose to work the wildest 
 ruin and confusion. It is narrow and steep, and so piled 
 with rocks that it is quite impassable for baggage-camels, 
 which have to be sent round another way, that is longer 
 by some hours’ march. Our camels had quite enough to 
 do to carry us. Slowly and wearily did they struggle up- 
 ward. As it was impossible for two to keep side by side, 
 we straggled on one after the other, separate and silent. 
 My spirits were such as might have been expected from a 
 sick man, till after two or three hours we rose to the sum- 
 mit of the pass, when I heard behind me the voice of the 
 dragoman shouting “ Jebel Mousa ! ” That cry cured me 
 in an instant. If it did not drive away the fever, it made 
 me forget it' Instantly the tears rushed into my eyes, and 
 all personal feeling was lost in one overpowering thought : 
 There was the Mount of Moses, the Mount of God ! On 
 that domed summit the Almighty had descended in lire to 
 give His law to men. 
 
 As we picked our way down the rocky pass, there 
 opened before us, not a narrow mountain gorge, nor even 
 a somewhat spacious wady, but a plain over two miles 
 long and half a mile wide, which was enclosed by hills, 
 and thus formed a natural amphitheatre. It was not level, 
 but slightly descending, like the floor of some grand audi- 
 torium, so that all who stood upon it might be in full sight 
 and hearing of a vision and a voice that were in the very 
 focus of this vast circumference. Every eye could be fixed 
 upon that awful Mount. Such an arena, a hundred times 
 more spacious than the Coliseum at Home, seems as if pre- 
 pared for a great assembly and a great occasion. Never 
 was there a spot more fitted for a scene so august. No 
 sooner does one enter it than he feels that it must have 
 
104 
 
 COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 been intended for the camp of Israel, and for the hearing 
 of the Law. The impression grows as we advance toward 
 the foot of the Mount, for at each step we pass over the 
 very ground where Israel stood. When my dear and hon- 
 ored friend, President Hitchcock of New York, with Pro- * 
 fessor Park of Andover, and Henry B. Smith of blessed 
 memory, were here a few years since, they camped the 
 night before reaching Sinai at a distance, but in full 
 view of the summit, and that evening there came up a 
 terrific storm, in which the lightnings and the thun- 
 derings vividly recalled the scene in which the Law was 
 given. We had no such sight, neither when we stood afar 
 off, nor yet when we drew nigh unto the Mount where 
 God was. The sky was without a cloud, as if every token 
 of wrath had passed away, and all was peace. 
 
 But neither sunshine nor storm could make us abide 
 in tents, if there was a sign of a more stable habitation, 
 and that we were now approaching in the Convent of 
 St. Catherine. For the last hour our eyes had been 
 divided between the mighty cliffs above us, which seemed 
 like the battlements of the city whose walls are “ great 
 and high,” and a spot of green at the base of the moun- 
 tain. The Convent does not stand, as I had supposed, 
 high up on the side of Mount Sinai (I had imagined it 
 perched on a cliff overlooking the valley below), but at 
 its foot, and not in front, but on one side between two 
 mountains, where indeed it fills up almost the whole pass, 
 leaving but a few rods more than room for the camel- 
 path that winds around it. In this confined space the 
 monks have made a paradise in the wilderness. A.s we 
 approached, we were delighted with the sight of blossom- 
 ing trees. To be sure, there were a few funereal-looking 
 cypresses, which seemed in harmony with the general 
 desolation. But mingled with this dark foliage were trees 
 
COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 105 
 
 in full bloom— the almond, the cherry, the peach, and the 
 apricot, the olive, and the orange, with a single fine speci- 
 men of the carob tree, which yields “ the husks that the 
 swine did eat,” and which (though its pods be destined 
 to such an ignoble use) is really quite a majestic tree. 
 Around and among these trees were extensive gardens, 
 carefully cultivated, and yielding fresh vegetables in abun- 
 dance. Was there ever a sight more grateful to the eyes 
 of weary travellers, after a long journey on the desert ? 
 
 The Convent is a range of buildings grouped in a quad- 
 rangle of such extent that hundreds of pilgrims could 
 easily be lodged within its numerous courts, and which 
 thus suggests the idea of a huge Eastern caravanserai, 
 and at the same time of a fortress, for its very construction 
 tells plainly that it was built long ago, in times when it was 
 a post of danger, to be held against attack. Its walls are 
 like ramparts, with port-holes and watch-towers, and a 
 strong gateway like one that opens into a fort. Indeed 
 not fifty years ago strangers who found shelter here were 
 not admitted by an open gate, but were drawn up in a 
 basket, and swung into a window in the third or fourth 
 story. The great rope still hangs outside in token of its 
 former use, and we afterwards amused ourselves by put- 
 ting it round us and taking a seat as in a swing, while the 
 monks above lifted us from the ground. But this danger 
 has passed away of later years, since Russia has taken the 
 Convent under its protection ; and now it has an arched 
 portal, through which a party mounted on camels can ride 
 into an outer court. Into this we rode, and dismounted in 
 front of the heavier and stronger wall of the fortress. 
 Entrance farther is obtained only by a letter from the 
 Greek patriarch at Cairo, which we had brought with us, 
 and sent by an attendant to the Prior of the Convent. 
 
 Presently one of the brethren appeared and bade us 
 
1C6 
 
 COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 welcome. It was the Econome, who receives pilgrims and 
 guests. We find that the Convent has a sort of double 
 head, spiritual and temporal (like the Tycoon and the 
 Mikado of Japan) — a Prior, who is the spiritual head, and 
 an Econome (iEkonomos), who is the business manager. 
 It was with the latter we had most to do. The other kept 
 himself hid in the recesses of the Convent, with his mind 
 fixed on heavenly things, in the dim religious light appro- 
 priate to one of his sacred character ; while the Econome 
 was by no means 
 
 “ . . . Too wise or good 
 For human nature’s daily food,” 
 
 but a jolly monk, who could talk and laugh with the most 
 worldly visitor. As he led our way into the interior, we 
 were again reminded that we were entering a fortress. 
 The walls are seven feet thick, quite sufficient to resist 
 any attack but that of modern artillery. The postern is 
 just high enough for a man’s head, and the passage so nar- 
 row that it admits but one person at a time. The door 
 which shuts this entrance is like the door of a prison, of 
 massive oak, barred and spiked with iron. Entering here 
 a few feet, and turning sidewise, we were led along one 
 passage after another into an open court, then down-stairs 
 and up-stairs, by a path so winding that it was several 
 days before I could find my way, into the large room of the 
 Convent, where strangers are received. Here several of 
 the brethren soon appeared with pleasant salutations, and 
 notably the Archimandrite of Jerusalem, who has been 
 some months at the Convent, and who, to my great joy, 
 addressed me in French, so that I was immediately in 
 communication with him. The others I had to turn over 
 entirely to Dr. Post, as they spoke little but Arabic. He is 
 a large man, of fine presence and open countenance, who 
 has seen a good deal of the world, having lived five years 
 
COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 107 
 
 at Constantinople and thirty at Jerusalem. We were seated 
 oil the divan with our hosts, when a monk entered hearing 
 a tray on which were the tiny cups of coffee always used 
 in the East. After partaking of refreshments, we asked 
 for lodgings, which were not so easily obtained, as the 
 rooms set apart for that purpose were occupied by ecclesi- 
 astical visitors. Of late years travellers have more gener- 
 ally adopted the plan of camping outside the Convent. 
 The monks offered us a place in the garden, where we 
 could pitch our tents under the blossoming almond-trees. 
 But no ; I wished to be not outside, but “ within the 
 gates,” and gently urged the matter, till the Archiman- 
 drite said he would see what they could do, and after send- 
 ing to inquire, in a few minutes conducted us to a couple 
 of rooms on the third story, at the end of a long corridor. 
 My room was in the extreme angle, at the farthest corner, 
 where, as I looked out of the window, it seemed as if I 
 were perched up in the signal-tower of a fortress. The 
 wall even on this story was three feet thick, and the win- 
 dow was secured by heavy iron bars — a precaution which 
 was necessary in the grim old days, to keep an enemy from 
 getting in, if not a prisoner from getting out. But no 
 matter : though it had been barred like a dungeon, the 
 window had a pretty lookout up the valley, and through it 
 came a cool, refreshing breeze. The door opened on the 
 corridor, which looked down upon the whole interior of 
 the Convent. Our dragoman and cook found quarters in 
 the court below, and served our meals on this corridor, 
 and took the whole care of our rooms. A few feet from 
 my door a cannon peered out of a port-hole (there were 
 several small pieces of artillery along the corridor and 
 mounted on the walls), and in my room was a picture of 
 the Virgin, before which, as a slirine, a lamp was kept 
 burning, so that I was protected both by earthly and heav- 
 
108 
 
 COMING TO THE FOOT OF SINAI. 
 
 enly powers. The room was plain enough for any monk, 
 but it was clean (the walls had been whitewashed) ; and 
 though the floor was of brick, yet the rug which the drag- 
 oman spread over it made it soft to the feet. At least it 
 was a place of rest, which was sorely needed after the 
 fatigues of our long marches. I was very much exhausted, 
 in spite of the excitement ; indeed the excitement itself 
 was exhausting. And so with a gratitude that cannot be 
 expressed, we lay down that night and slept at the foot of 
 Horeb, the Mount of God. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 When we reached the Convent, I felt that I was “ dead,” 
 and should leave my bones with those of the Israelites that 
 fell in the wilderness ; but the next morning, when the sun 
 crept in through the iron bars of my window, I awoke with 
 a dreamy sort of feeling, as half in doubt where or what I 
 was. A Convent is a ghostly place, and one may easily get 
 a feeling as if he were a pale wanderer in the shades below. 
 Several times in the night I had been awaked by a deep 
 sepulchral sound. It was not the Convent bell, but a stroke 
 on a heavy bar of iron, which called the monks to prayer. 
 This added to the strangeness of the place, so that whe- 
 ther I was in the body or out of the body, I could not tell. 
 But daylight scatters the ghosts that have come about us 
 in the night, so that when the sun was fully risen, I began 
 slowly to come back to this world ; and as I looked out of 
 the window, and saw the camels lying in the yard of the 
 Convent, I realized at last that 'we were at the foot of 
 Mount Sinai, whose top we hoped to reach that very day. 
 
 It was nearly nine o’clock when we mounted and filed 
 slowly out of the arched gateway. Our path led round to 
 the rear of the Convent. At the end of the valley is a 
 conical hill, on which it is said that Mahomet once had an 
 audience with God ; for the Moslems will have it that their 
 Prophet was in no wise inferior to Moses. It is quite pos- 
 sible that the tradition is true, that in his youth, when a 
 mere camel-driver, he wandered among these hills, and 
 
110 
 
 OX THE TOP OF MOUXT SINAI. 
 
 perhaps caught from the legends of Moses the idea of 
 making the daring attempt to assume the part of a Prophet 
 of God ; and that again he came after he had promulgated 
 his visions, and met with success beyond his utmost belief, 
 when he proudly assumed the role of protector. It gives 
 one an idea of the age of the Convent, to remember that 
 it is older than Mahomet : it was founded by the Emperor 
 Justinian in the year 555, so that it has been standing more 
 than thirteen centuries ! The early monks felt the need of 
 making friends with the new power which had just risen 
 in Arabia, and was attacking and destroying on every side, 
 and so sought and received from Mahomet a pledge of his 
 protection. He could not write, but dipping his broad 
 hand in ink (it might have been in blood, for the color is 
 red), gave the imprint of his open palm. That was a sig- 
 nature which could not be mistaken. A copy of this bloody 
 hand is hung up in the room in which I am now writing ; 
 the original is said to be in Constantinople, though I can 
 hear of no one who has seen it ; but tradition supports 
 the fact of its existence ; and to this pledge of the Prophet 
 the monks have often appealed, and it is due to it that the 
 Convent has not been long since destroyed. 
 
 Continuing our course, we began to wind round the base 
 of the mountain. Now it seemed as if we were pilgrims 
 to the heavenly Jerusalem. It did not need that a monk 
 should be sitting by the wayside, as in the old time, to 
 ask “ Alio shall ascend into the hill of the Lord, or who 
 shall stand in His holy place ? ” and after hearing our 
 confession, to grant us absolution : for were we not be- 
 ginning, where Bunyan’s Pilgrim began, at the foot of 
 Mount Sinai, a journey which was to end only at the 
 Celestial City ? Though our progress was slow, yet wm 
 were “ stepping heavenward.” There was something like 
 one s Christian experience even in this indirect approach. 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAL 
 
 111 
 
 It was as if we could not face the Mount, and go up 
 straight into the cloud, hut must approach by a way more 
 gentle and winding, but in which, though we seemed to 
 be only going round and round, we were all the while 
 climbing higher and higher. Gradual as was the ascent, 
 yet we knew that we were slowly mounting : for as we 
 looked backward now and then, we perceived by compari- 
 son with surrounding heights that we had reached a greater 
 elevation. As they sank lower, we knew that we had risen 
 higher. A camel’s back is a good perch from which to look 
 down into deep mountain valleys. But there came a point 
 where we must leave the camels, and continue on foot. 
 The ascent, however, is not to be compared to that of 
 Serbal ; indeed it is not at all difficult, for pious hands have 
 piled up stones as rude steps for the feet of pilgrims, so 
 that we go up slowly, but steadily and easily, to the top of 
 the Mount. Biding and walking, the whole time of the 
 ascent from the Convent was less than three hours, while 
 that of Serbal was six. 
 
 We were now on Jebel Mousa, the summit which an- 
 cient tradition assigns as the place of the giving of the 
 Law ; although, as we shall see, later explorers incline to 
 another peak of the same mountain which more directly 
 overlooks the plain of Er Bahah. Jebel Mousa is over six 
 hundred feet higher than Serbal, though in appearance it 
 is less imposing. But it is a magnificent dome of rock. 
 As I crept to the verge of the cliff, the dragoman grasped 
 me by the arm and drew me back, lest I should be made 
 giddy by the fearful height : for one slip there, and I 
 should be dashed a thousand feet below. The view also 
 is of great extent, and very similar in its general charac- 
 ter to that from Serbal, with the same vast stretch over 
 the Peninsula — the same waters of the Bed Sea encom- 
 passing the same wilderness of mountains. But the objec- 
 
112 
 
 ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 tion to Serbal being the Mount of the Law applies equally 
 to Jebel Mousa, that there is no broad jolain undor it 
 in which the whole congregation of Israel might stand. 
 Wadies enough there are in sight, but scattered here 
 and there in a way to raise a doubt as to its being the 
 chosen summit, especially when one finds another point 
 near at hand where all the conditions are supplied. But 
 for the hour or two that we rest here, we may give 
 ourselves up to the sacred associations of a spot which 
 has been consecrated by the reverent faith of many gen- 
 erations. Here Moslem and Christian can join in wor- 
 ship, for on the top stand side by side a small Greek 
 chapel and a little mosque. We found nothing to excite 
 our devotion in the tinselled Greek chapel, but sat rever- 
 ently without on the rock while Dr. Post read out of his 
 Arabic Bible the Ten Commandments. But the dragoman 
 of the other American party, who was a devout Moslem, 
 entered the mosque, and with his face turned towards 
 Mecca, bowed himself in low prostrations, swinging his 
 head from side to side, and calling upon Allah. The Mos- 
 lems have great reverence for the Hebrew Lawgiver, whom 
 they always speak of as “ our Lord Moses,” and whose name 
 they like to associate with that of Mahomet as the two 
 Prophets of God, and make pilgrimages to Jebel Mousa, 
 where they show in the rock the footprint of Mahomet’s 
 camel ! If any be surprised that there should be only one 
 footprint, yet be not incredulous, O gentle reader, for this 
 is easily explained when you consider that the sacred 
 camel only touched the top of the rock as he flew through 
 the air, bearing the prophet from Mecca to Jerusalem ! 
 Moslem traditions vary on this point, some affirming that 
 the camel stood with legs outstretched, one foot in Cairo, 
 one in Damascus, one in Mecca, and one on Sinai, from 
 which he was carried up into heaven, with his rider on his 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 113 
 
 back, by the Angel Gabriel ! Of two miracles, tbe true 
 believer will always choose the greater. Some of the 
 Christian traditions which have gathered about Mount 
 Sinai are hardly more worthy of credit. The attempt of 
 the monks to localize every event has led to many designa- 
 tions which are quite absurd. Still w r e cannot repress 
 some degree of feeling as we creep into a cleft of the rock 
 in which it is said Moses hid himself when the Lord 
 passed by ; or into the reputed cave in which Elijah hid 
 himself when he fled from the wrath of Jezebel, after he 
 had slain the prophets of Baal. 
 
 We now descended Jebel Mousa to a valley midway 
 between this and the other peak which is now more com- 
 monly believed to have been the Mount of the I^aw. This 
 valley contains a remarkable willow, which gives to the 
 mountain before us the name of Has Sufsafeh, the Moun- 
 tain of the Willow, and well entitled it is to such an honor, 
 if what the monks tell us be true, that it is the very one 
 from which Moses cut the rod with which he smote the 
 rock and made the waters flow ! How they know that the 
 tree was a willow, it is for them to say, or how it should 
 possess such remarkable vitality that it has been preserved 
 to this day. It looks as if it might be fifty years old ! 
 Here in a pass between rocks, under a huge granite 
 boulder, is a spring of water which the Arabs say never 
 fails. It was .very grateful in the heat of the day, espe- 
 cially as we found snow in a cleft of the rocks, which, 
 added to the natural coldness of the spring, gave us ice 
 water on Mount Sinai. Here we rested for some minutes, 
 bathing our foreheads, before we began another mountain 
 climb. 
 
 At the willow Dr. Post left me for an hour, to make a 
 different ascent. Near to Bus Sufsafeh is a second peak 
 which commands the same sight of Er Itahali in front, and 
 
114 
 
 ON THE TOP OP MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 which, he thought, might also take in a wady on the East, 
 making the whole view more extensive. To determine 
 this point, he proposed to ascend it. But the monk from 
 the "Convent, who accompanied us as a more learned con- 
 ductor than the Arab guides, at once frowned on the sug- 
 gestion by declaring it “ impossible,” that it “ had never 
 been done,” that, in short, it was a spot “ where no human 
 foot had ever trod ” ! It did look very perpendicular, but 
 Dr. Post was not quite willing to accept the assurance that 
 it was inaccessible. Spying it round from different points, 
 he thought he discovered on the top a small cairn of 
 stones, a sort of rude altar, a proof that human feet had 
 been there and human hands also ; and while the grizzled 
 old monk looked aghast at the presumption and almost 
 impiety of attempting to do what no one had done before, 
 he set forward, telling one of the Arab guides to follow 
 him. He is a capital mountaineer, springing from rock to 
 rock like a chamois, and climbing wherever a goat could set 
 its foot, and in half an hour he shouted to me from the very 
 pinnacle of the peak which “ no human foot had ever trod.” 
 
 Meanwhile, with two other guides I had been slowly 
 making my way up the rocky steep of Has Sufsafeh. It is 
 a pretty hard climb, but it seemed light compared with 
 that of Serbal, and in an hour we stood on the very top. 
 This is the jrnak from which Dr. Robinson, after careful 
 exploration of all the points of the Sinai group, believed 
 that the Law was given ; and when I reached the summit 
 and looked down into the plain of Er Rahah, I saw at once 
 the reasons which led him to this conclusion, for here all 
 the conditions are met, and I no longer doubted that I was 
 standing on the holy mount. On the very front and fore- 
 head of the cliff, stands a tremendous boulder, which seems 
 as if it might have been the “ pulpit ” of the great Law- 
 giver. To this I climbed, or rather was dragged up by the 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 115 
 
 Arabs, and here looked down on a spot which had wit- 
 nessed the most august event in human history, except 
 that which took place on Calvary. I now sent the guides 
 away to a little distance, though not beyond call, for there 
 are moments when one must be alone to get the full force 
 of sacred associations, and here where Moses talked with 
 Clod, one feels that he is face to face with his Maker. 
 'When left quite alone in the awful solitude of the moun- 
 tain, one feels that he is on holy ground. I did not, after 
 the Oriental custom, take off my shoes from my feet, but 
 after the Western sign of reverence, uncovered my head, 
 as when one enters a cathedral where he must speak in a 
 whispered voice, and move about with noiseless steps. 
 
 Coming to such a height of vision, one feels as if he 
 had come to a point in his own life, and a personal feel- 
 ing mingles with that inspired by the scene, so that one 
 flows into the other. As I looked down from the top of 
 Sinai, I saw not only the deep passes winding away into 
 the mountains, I saw the winding course of a lifetime that 
 had at last brought me to this sj)ot ; and how could one 
 who felt that he was but a pilgrim, tarrying not even for a 
 night, but only for an hour, help breathing a prayer to 
 Him who of old led His people across these deserts and 
 through these mountains, that He would guide his wan- 
 dering steps aright ! And then somehow there came into 
 my heart and to my lips the words of the Twenty-third 
 Psalm, and standing there alone with uncovered head, 
 I found myself repeating the blessed assurance, in the 
 strength of which I shall go all my days : “The Lord is 
 my shepherd : I shall not want. He maketh me to lie 
 down in green pastures : He leadeth me beside the still 
 waters. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
 shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with 
 me ; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” 
 
116 
 
 ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 Tlie spell was broken by sbouts down the mountain, 
 and presently Dr. Post appeared with the other American 
 party, and all together we studied the features of the 
 mountain and the plain as related to each other. Looking 
 over the edge of the cliff, we could see how perfectly it 
 answered to the description of “ the mount that might be 
 touched,” for the plain came up to its very base, and at 
 the same time there were low-lying mounds at the foot, 
 which seemed to mark where bounds had been set against 
 too near an approach. As to the extent of open space, 
 wide as it was, Dr. Post reported that the other peak 
 which he had climbed commanded a view still wider ; 
 that, while it was in the very axis of the plain of Er 
 Eahah, it took in also a wady on the other side, which 
 furnished standing ground for perhaps half a million 
 more. Hence he inclines to the opinion that this was the 
 peak which Dr. Robinson ascended, as it answers more 
 exactly to the description he has given. But after all, the 
 question whether it was this or that, does not seem very 
 important, for the whole group is comprised under the 
 general name of Sinai, and the Divine manifestation may 
 have included them all. “ The mountain was altogether 
 on a smoke,” and to the multitude that looked upward it 
 may have seemed as if all were wrapped in the volume of 
 dense, rolling cloud. Those who have witnessed an erup- 
 tion of Vesuvius from the Bay of Naples, remember that 
 at times great masses of smoke roll down the mountain 
 side, and then clear away, and flames shoot up to a vast 
 height, reddening the sky, while at the same time they are 
 reflected in the faces of a multitude of spectators white 
 with terror, as if the Dies Irse had come and the very heav- 
 ens were on fire. If amid this scene, the grandest and 
 most awful that Nature ever presents, a voice were heard 
 issuing out of the cloud and rolling down the breast of the 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 117 
 
 mountain, we might form some faint conception of the 
 mingled majesty and terror of the sight when the Lord 
 descended upon Sinai. From the top we observed what 
 we had noticed in the plain, that the ground is lowest 
 nearest the mountain, and that it rises as it recedes, like 
 the seats of an amphitheatre, so that all converge to one 
 point, which is the centre of the scene. At the farther end 
 of the plain, the surface is more broken, rising and falling 
 in gentle undulations, so that if any fled terror-stricken 
 from the base of the mount, they could still behold it afar 
 off, from the distant slopes, while they heard the mighty 
 voice that swept across the plain, and reverberated like 
 thunder in the farthest recesses of the mountains. No 
 wonder that those who stood trembling at the sight said 
 to Moses, “ Speak thou with us and we w'ill hear, but let 
 not God speak with us lest we die.” 
 
 But what need, asks the sneerer at Moses, of such 
 grand “ pyrotechnics ” to attend the giving of the Law ? 
 Why should “ the heavens be cu fire ” except it were to 
 illuminate a world? What need of all this array of clouds 
 and storms, of lightnings and thunderings ? Was there 
 a king to be crowned? Not one of the Pharaohs ever 
 saw such a sight on the banks of the Nile. But here there 
 was neither king nor crown, nor any of the signs of royalty. 
 Only a law was to be proclaimed ; and that not a com- 
 plete system of legislation, but only Ten Commandments, 
 expressed in few words. There is an apparent want of 
 harmony in such magnificent preparations to usher in such 
 a feeble conclusion. And yet somehow this Law, so small 
 in volume, has lived for thousands of years, and promises 
 to live to the end of time. Standing here on the rocky 
 height where it was given, we cannot forbear some reflec- 
 tions on the peculiar features of a Law thus proclaimed, 
 which had such an origin, and was to have such a history. 
 
118 
 
 ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 The Ten Commandments are commonly divided into 
 two Tables — that which concerns the worship of God, and 
 that which treats of the relations of men to each other. 
 First and foremost is the idea of God. That is central and 
 supreme, standing in the very front of the law, as it does 
 of the Bible. The first sentence of the Bible is “ In the 
 beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” Author 
 of all things, He is the beginning and the end of all law, 
 as of all religion. The first command of the Decalogue 
 announces the principle of Monotheism — that there is only 
 one living and true God, who is the Creator of all things, 
 and the only object of human worship. “ Thou shalt have 
 no other gods before me.” How short the sentence, and 
 yet it rules the world ! This morning, as the sun came 
 from the East, it touched the. gilded domes, not only of 
 Cairo and Damascus and Constantinople, but of ten thou- 
 sand mosques all over the Mohammedan world, and from 
 all their minarets the voice of the muezzin cried “ God is 
 God : there is no God but God ” — words which were but 
 the faint, far-off echo of those spoken on Sinai two thou- 
 sand years before Mahomet was born. What meaning did 
 the word God convey to the mind of the Hebrew who had 
 come out of Egypt ? It did not recall the legend of Isis or 
 Osiris. It did not present for his worship the vague incar- 
 nation of a principle of good or evil, but a living Being, a 
 Divine Guardian and Protector. Well might that sacred 
 name stand in the very front of a law of which God was 
 the beginning and the end. 
 
 The second command is aimed at the idolatrous wor- 
 ship which the Israelites had learned in Egypt, and to 
 which they clung with such strange infatuation. The 
 third, “ Not to take the name of God in vain,” inculcated 
 that reverence in word which must accompany obedience 
 in act. The fourth has this peculiarity, that whereas a 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 119 
 
 command is usually an ordinance of labor, this is an ordi- 
 nance of rest. “ Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy 
 work, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy 
 God ; in it thou shalt not do any worlc.” For one day in 
 seven the perpetual grind of life ceases ; the wheels stand 
 still ; the laborer lays down his burden. This is a bless- 
 ing disguised as a command, a Divine benediction on an 
 overburdened world. 
 
 Next to the reverence which we owe to our Maker, is 
 that which we owe to those who are, in another sense, the 
 authors of our being, and so to the command to worship 
 God follows “ Honor thy father and thy mother.” This 
 consecrates the family relation. “ Honor ” includes love, 
 reverence, and obedience — a trinity of virtues, out of which 
 flowers and blossoms all that is most beautiful in human 
 character. 
 
 And now follow five commands regulating the relations 
 of men to each other, which are the most remarkable sum- 
 mary of law in all the annals of legislation — remarkable 
 because they compact into few words the sum of all 
 wisdom, as approved by the universal experience of man- 
 kind. For example, in these two commands, “ Thou shalt 
 not kill ” and “ Thou shalt not steal,” each of which is 
 stated in four words, and four words of one syllable, is 
 contained the seed-principle of protection to person and 
 property, which is the germ of all civilized society. These 
 precepts, so brief — we might almost say, so minute in their 
 brevity and condensation — comprehend all the laws that 
 were ever enacted to guard the lives and the possessions 
 of men. 
 
 “ Thou shalt not commit adultery ” — thou shalt not sin 
 thyself, nor tempt others to sin. This guards, as a holy 
 shrine, the virtue of man and woman ; it watches like an 
 angel over the purity of domestic life, and drives away the 
 
120 
 
 ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 foul fiends of passion and lust, and fills tlie dwelling with 
 that sweet, pure, trustful love, which makes home the type 
 of heaven. 
 
 “ Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.” 
 This guards character and reputation against evil eyes as 
 well as slanderous tongues ; against the looks as well as 
 words by w T hich one casts a shade on another’s good name, 
 which is dearer to him than life. 
 
 “ Thou shalt not covet ” — not only shalt thou not rob 
 or defraud thy neighbor, thou shalt not even desire that 
 which is his— it is the fruit of liis labor, leave it to his 
 enjoyment, and be content with thine own. This protects 
 your neighbor, and by its reverse action protects you also, 
 not only from violence and wrong, but from the least 
 approach of covetous desire. If this one command were 
 obeyed, what contentment and what peace would it bring 
 into every home and into every heart. 
 
 That is all. There are but ten commandments, no less 
 and no more. These last five seem almost too brief and 
 too simple. But do they not cover the whole field ? What 
 crime is there against person or property, against a man’s 
 life or his honor, against his virtue or his good name, which 
 they do not forbid ? Tell us, legislator or philosopher, if 
 vou have anything to add to this brief code? What 
 interest of man does it leave unprotected ? 
 
 The more we reflect upon it, the more the wonder 
 grows. The framework of laws in a nation is the work of 
 ages, but here the whole is compressed into a space so 
 small that it could be written on a man’s hand. Different 
 nations have obtained their rights at the price of great 
 sacrifices — rights which are summed up in certain great 
 charters, such as the Magna Charta of England and the 
 Declaration of Independence of America. As these con- 
 tain the principles of Universal Liberty, so does this sec- 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 121 
 
 ond table of tbe law contain the principles of Universal 
 Justice. If it were obeyed, there is not an act of injustice 
 which could find a place among men. Is it then too much 
 to say that the Ten Commandments are the acorn which 
 contains the oak of civilization ? Who can measure the 
 germinating power of a great principle of j ustice— how it 
 multiplies itself in its application to different countries 
 and races, adapting itself to all times and climes, to all 
 the relations of men as they may change to the end of the 
 world ? It is the handful of corn in the top of the moun- 
 tain, but the fruit thereof shakes like Lebanon. To a law 
 so beneficent, is it possible to ascribe an origin too high 
 or too sacred ? Law in its highest form has always been 
 regarded as the emanation of Divinity. “ Law,” says 
 Hooker, “ has her seat in the bosom of God, and her voice 
 is the harmony of the world. All things in heaven and 
 earth do her homage— the very least as feeling her care, 
 and the greatest as not exempted from her power.” There 
 is a natural fitness in a Law so Divine being delivered from 
 the skies. The greatest of living English poets, when he 
 would personify Liberty, beholds her “ on the heights ” : 
 
 “ Of old sat Freedom on tlio heights, 
 
 The thunders breaking at her feet; 
 
 Above her shook the starry lights : 
 
 She heard the torrents meet. 
 
 “ Within her place she did rejoice, 
 
 Self-gathered in her prophet mind ; 
 
 But fragments of her mighty voice 
 Came rolling on the wind.” 
 
 What is thus spoken of Liberty may be said of Law, that 
 Of old she sat upon the heights, 
 
 The thunders breaking at her feet : 
 
 Even more than Liberty does Law deserve to be thus 
 lifted up in the sight of the nations, for it is a higher and 
 a diviner thing. The Universe can exist without Liberty ; 
 
122 
 
 ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 it cannot exist without Law ; and if we might apply these 
 majestic lines to the sacred image of Law enthroned on 
 the cliffs of Sinai, we might say that from those “ heights ” 
 not only do 
 
 “ Fragments of her mighty voice 
 Come rolling on the wind,” 
 
 but that the full voice, loud and clear, speaks to all the 
 kindreds of mankind. 
 
 Whence then had this man this wisdom? He was 
 “learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians,” but he did 
 not find it there, for a paid of his code is aimed directly at 
 the idolatries which were universal in Egypt. Where then 
 did he get his inspiration ? This is for those who are fond 
 of pointing out the Mistakes of Moses to answer. They 
 seem not to reflect, that when they have exhausted their 
 small stock of wit on the supernatural proofs of his 
 Divine mission, (as when, for example, they suggest that he 
 took advantage of a thunder storm, which came up while 
 he was on the mountain, to work upon the fears and the 
 credulity of the people !) and have thus disposed, as they 
 imagine, of the miracles of Moses, they leave the great 
 miracle untouched : it is the Law itself. They have 
 explained the lightnings and the thunderings : let them 
 explain the Law. That remains a great fact m history, 
 harder and more unyielding than the granite dome of 
 Mount Sinai itself. Where did Moses get that Law ? Those 
 who, while they disparage the Bible, are ready to do honor to 
 all other religions, to their founders and their sacred books, 
 would willingly ascribe it to Buddha, whose Five Command- 
 ments so nearly correspond to the Second Table of the 
 Law. Nor would it daunt them in the least that it would 
 oblige them to follow those Co m mandments of Buddha from 
 India across the whole breadth of Asia ; but unfortunately 
 Moses lived and died more than eight hundred years be- 
 
ON THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 123 
 
 fore Buddha was bom ! The ingenuity of unbelief must 
 devise some other explanation. It is enough for us, as we 
 come down from the Mount, to accept reverently the assur- 
 ance that the Law which Moses gave to the Hebrews was 
 written with the finger of God on tables of stone. 
 
 Such thoughts, suggested by such sights, gave a sacred 
 interest to the hours that we stood on Mount Sinai, and 
 filled our minds with a strange wonder as we left that 
 hoary summit. We sent back the camels, and came down 
 by a more direct but more precipitous descent, through 
 the Valley of Jethro, so called because half way down the 
 mountain, under a projecting rock, is a perpetual spring 
 which bears that name. To this point no doubt Moses 
 often climbed when he watched the flocks of Jethro, and 
 sat for hour's beneath the shade of the rock beside the 
 cooling spring, and perhaps found the same graceful ferns 
 that grow there still. In the association of everything 
 about Sinai with the great Hebrew Lawgiver, it is pleasant 
 to know that nature remains unchanged. These granite 
 cliffs do not wear away by time, or but .slowly in the lapse 
 of ages. So the fern still grows, and the water flows, and 
 we may gather to-day from the dripping rocks the same 
 delicate maiden’s hair which Moses gathered for the 
 daughter of Jethro more than three thousand years ago. 
 
CHAPTEB X. 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 After we had made the ascent of Mount Sinai, we set- 
 tled down for a few days to a quiet life in the Convent, 
 dividing our time between excursions without and reading 
 and writing within. One needs a little time to set his 
 thoughts in order after such an experience. The ascent of 
 Mount Sinai is an event in one’s life, and the reflections it 
 suggests do not pass away with the place and the hour. 
 Standing on that height, one is at the very beginnings of 
 history : there a religion was promulgated ; there a state 
 was born ; and there a code of laws was given which has 
 influenced the legislation of all after times. As we linger 
 at the foot of the Mount, our thoughts run on along the 
 line of that history which had its beginning here. Of 
 course one great name fills our minds, as it fills all the 
 spaces of these mountains. Believing that the world owes 
 more to Moses than to any other character that appeared 
 in history before the time of Christ, it seems the part of 
 loyalty to recognize his influence in the work of human 
 progress and civilization, and thus to vindicate his claim to 
 the homage and the gratitude of mankind. To this we are 
 the more inclined, as it is a fashion of the day to sneer at 
 Moses. Those who would destroy the authority of the i 
 Bible, make it almost a first point to direct their attacks 
 against one whose name stands in front of the Old Testa- 
 ment, as the name of One greater than Moses stands in 
 front of the New. Even writers upon Law, who concede 
 
TIIE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 125 
 
 to Moses a place with Solon and Lycurgus among the law- 
 givers of antiquity, yet sometimes qualify their praise by im- 
 plying that Moses was great, and that his Law was great, by 
 comparison with ancient barbarism rather than with mod- 
 ern civilization. It may therefore serve a useful purpose 
 to devote a few pages to considering the character of his 
 legislation, that we may judge whether it lies in the liue of 
 barbarism or of civilization. Is the Hebrew Law composed 
 merely of the arbitrary decrees of one who ruled, like any 
 Oriental monarch, with absolute authority, and whose de- 
 crees merely registered the impulses of his capricious will ? 
 or is it founded in principles of justice, which tit it, not for 
 one age alone, but for all ages ; not for the Hebrews only, 
 but for mankind ? 
 
 There is a very common reflection upon the Hebrew 
 Lawgiver, which, though it does not call in question any 
 particular law, is yet designed to vitiate and weaken the 
 impression of the w T hole — that he was a stern and relent- 
 less ruler, who may indeed have understood the principles 
 of justice, but whose justice was seldom tempered with 
 mercy. This impression is derived partly at least from the 
 summary way in which in several instances he dealt with 
 rebellion. To this kind of argument there is one brief and 
 sufficient answer : all bodies of men are acknowledged to 
 have the right to resort to severe penalties when encom- 
 passed by extraordinary dangers. The children of Israel 
 were in a position of great peril, and their safety depended 
 on the wisdom and firmness of one man. Never had a ruler 
 a more difficult task. Moses did not legislate for the ideal 
 republic of Plato, a community of perfect beings, but for a 
 people born in slavery, from which they had but just broken 
 away, and that were in danger of becoming ungovernable. 
 Here were two millions and a half, who had not even a set- 
 tled place of abode. Had they been dwelling in towns and 
 
126 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH 
 
 cities, or scattered over tlie hillsides of Judea, the task of 
 ruling them would have been easy. But they were a peo- 
 ple without a country, and not yet even organized into a 
 nation, but mustered in one vast camp, through which re- 
 bellion might spread in a day. Moses had to govern them 
 ' by his single will. He had to do everything : to direct 
 their marches, to order their battles, and even to provide 
 for their subsistence ; while all the time rose up around 
 him, like the roaring of the sea, the factions and jealous- 
 ies of the different tribes. 
 
 To preserve order among themselves, and to guard 
 against hostile attacks, all the men capable of bearing 
 arms were organized as a military body. They marched 
 in armed array, and pitched their tents around the stand- 
 ards of their tribes. For the safety of this mighty host, 
 Moses had to issue strict orders, such as all command- 
 ers publish to their armies. In every military code, the 
 first requirement is subordination to the chief. Rebellion 
 threatens the very existence of an army. Whoever, there- 
 fore, attempts to stir a whole camp to rage and mutiny, 
 must expect to be given up to instant death. In this 
 Moses only enforced the ordinary laws of war. In an age 
 when we have seen men blown away from guns — as in the 
 Indian Mutiny, for acts of mutiny and massacre, or by 
 Wellington for the lesser offence of pillage — we need not 
 be troubled to answer for undue severity in Moses in deal- 
 ing with what threatened anarchy, and if unchecked, would 
 bring inevitable destruction. He suppressed rebellion as 
 Cromwell would have suppressed it : he not only put it 
 i down, but stamped it out, and such prompt severity was 
 the truest humanity. 
 
 But it is not acts of military discipline that provoke 
 the criticism of modern humanitarians, so much as those 
 religious laws which prescribed the God whom the He- 
 
FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 127 
 
 brews should worship, and punished idolatry and blas- 
 phemy as the greatest of crimes. This brings up the 
 whole question of religious laws. With our notions of 
 liberty, any laws whatever in regard to man’s faith or wor- 
 ship seem a violation of the inalienable rights of con- 
 science. But here a ruler prescribes to his nation the 
 Being to be worshipped, and enforces conformity by the 
 most rigorous statutes. “ There is no God but God,” said 
 Mahomet, echoing what Moses had said so many centuries 
 before ; and not Mahomet himself was more intolerant of 
 disobedience or contempt of the Divine authority. Idol- 
 atry was put down by force of arms. This, it is said, 
 transcends the proper sphere of human law : it exalts 
 ceremonies into duties, and denounces as crimes acts 
 which have no moral wrong. Thus it rewards without 
 merit, and punishes without guilt. Was not then the He- 
 brew Law wanting in the first principle of justice — free- 
 dom to all religions ? 
 
 Now it is quite absurd to suppose that any Israelite 
 had conscientious scruples against this worship, or seri- 
 ously doubted whether Jehovah or Baal, whose bloody sac- 
 rifices had been offered on Mount Serbal, were the true 
 God. They had been rescued from slavery by a direct in- 
 terposition of the Almighty. The sea had opened its 
 waves for their passage ; they had been led by an Al- 
 mighty Deliverer ; and it was His voice which they heard 
 from the cliffs of Sinai. 
 
 But it was not merely because their Religion was true, 
 and the only time worship, that they were required to ac- 
 cept it ; but because also of the peculiar relation which its 
 Divine Author had assumed towards the Hebrew state as 
 its Founder and Protector. That relation was declared, 
 not in the cold and stately formula, “ There is no God but 
 God,” but in words which are warm and livin as with the 
 
128 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH 
 
 breath of the Almighty, “ I am the Lord thy God, which 
 brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of 
 bondage.” In all their wanderings He was their Leader. 
 The symbol of His presence went before them as a pillar 
 of clcud by day and a pillar of fire by night. 
 
 By keeping in mind this peculiar relation of the Divine 
 Rider to the state, we may understand the whole constitu- 
 tion of the Hebrew Commonwealth. The government was 
 not a monarchy, but a theocracy. They had no King but 
 God : He was the only Lord. As such, no act of disobedi- 
 ence or disrespect to His authority, could be light or small. 
 The most extreme instance of a punishment dispropor- 
 tioned to the offence, is that in which a man was stoned 
 for gathering sticks on the Sabbath day ! This may be 
 said to be the pet case of the critics who sit in judgment 
 upon Moses, and they do not fail to make the most of it : 
 “ What an exaggerated importance is here given to a petty 
 offence, and how inexorable must have been the law which 
 punished such a trifle with death ! ” And yet, strange to 
 say, the story is told in perfect frankness and simplicity, 
 with no attempt at concealment or disguise, as if the act 
 needed any explanation or apology. Turning to the nar- 
 rative, we find that this is a solitary instance — that it stands 
 alone ; there is not another like it in all the J ewish history. 
 Wherefore it was probably attended with unknown aggra- 
 vations. Acts trivial in themselves sometimes derive im- 
 portance from the circumstances in which they are com- 
 mitted. This may have been done publicly and purposely, 
 as an affront to the Divine Majesty ; as an open defiance 
 of Him who had ordained the Sabbath as a day of rest, 
 to be kept sacred and inviolable ; and so it may have been 
 punished as a wanton contempt of authority. Trifling as 
 it seemed, it was a violation of an express command lately 
 given, and a wilful offence which could not be passed over. 
 
FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 129 
 
 Further, the unity of God was a centre of unity for the 
 nation. The state was one because their God was one. 
 The worship of Jehovah alone distinguished the Hebrews 
 from all other people, and preserved their separate nation- 
 ality. What bond of union could hold together millions 
 of people pouring out of Egypt in wild and hurried flight, 
 and scattering afar on the Arabian deserts ? Not the ties 
 of blood, nor even the instinct of self-preservation. No- 
 thing but their common religion, which was one and indi- 
 visible. The maintenance of this was essential to their 
 very existence. Once throw down their altars, and the 
 whole nation would crumble to pieces. Admit other relig- 
 ions, and the bond which held together the Twelve Tribes 
 was dissolved. How long could that union have lasted if 
 the prophets of Baal had had the freedom of the camp, 
 and been permitted to go from tribe to tribe, and from 
 tent to tent, preaching the doctrine of human sacrifices ? 
 Hence Moses did not suffer them for an hom’. False 
 prophets were to be stoned to death. 
 
 We need not stop to defend the abstract justice of these 
 laws. It is enough that every state has a right to consult 
 for its own safety, and to proscribe or banish any class of 
 men that are found to be dangerous. On this principle, 
 many European governments have driven out the Jesuits, 
 whom they found plotting against the peace of their realms. 
 By the same rule of acting for the public safety, Moses had 
 the right to rid his people of pestilent prophets and divin- 
 ers. No good ever came of them. Often they have led 
 princes to embark in disastrous wars, by promising victo- 
 ries in the name of their gods. In the last century the 
 Turkish .Sultan, putting faith in certain Moslem prophe- 
 cies, plunged into a war with Bussia, which nearly proved 
 the ruin of his empire.* 
 
 * Michaelis, Vol. IV., p. 75. 
 
130 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH 
 
 Besides, the people whom Moses led were advancing 
 into great dangers. All round them were pagan nations. 
 Egypt was behind them, and Canaan before them. They 
 had just left the most powerful kingdom on earth, where 
 men prostrated themselves before beasts. They still had a 
 lingering fondness for that hideous worship. On one occa- 
 sion, when Moses was absent from the camp for forty days, 
 on his return he found them singing and shouting round 
 a golden calf, an image of the god Apis. Often they showed 
 a fanatical frenzy for idolatry. Against all this Moses stood 
 alone, and combated the popular fury. If he had no Divine 
 authority to sustain him, to impose such laws on hostile 
 millions showed a moral daring of which there is no exam- 
 ple in history. 
 
 As the unity of God was the fundamental law of the 
 state, idolatry of course was the first of crimes. This, 
 therefore, was placed under the ban of absolute prohibi- 
 tion.* Any individual who sought to entice them away 
 from their God, even though the nearest kindred, was to 
 be stoned. If a whole city relapsed into idolatry, it was 
 placed out of the pale of protection, and was to be utterly 
 destroyed. | 
 
 Not only the false worship itself, but everything which 
 could lead to it was forbidden. All the arts by which it 
 was upheld — divination, sorcery, magic, witchcraft — were 
 torn up root and branch. J Witches — those old sybils who 
 decoyed men by their juggling arts — were not permitted 
 to live. 
 
 Does this appear the extreme of harshness and intoler- 
 ance? Perhaps it was rather a brave act of mercy. In 
 every pagan country there are sorcerers and necromancers 
 who claim to have power over the elements, or over life 
 and death, and who impose on ignorant savages, often to 
 
 * Deut. xiii. 6-11. f Deut. xiii. 12-16. J Deut. xviii. 9-12. 
 
FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 131 
 
 perpetrate acts of fiendish cruelty. Travellers in the inte- 
 rior of Africa tell us that the curse of the Dark Continent, 
 greater perhaps than the slave trade itself, is witchcraft. 
 If a man is taken ill, he is supposed to be bewitched, and 
 he cannot recover until the person who has bewitched him 
 is found and put to death. Here come in a class of medi- 
 cine-men, or fetish-men, who claim to have the power of 
 detecting by secret signs those who have bewitched the 
 sick, and this pretended power they use to gratify their 
 own malignity or revenge. M. du Chaillu once described 
 to me the horrible scenes which he had witnessed in an 
 Airican village, particularly the fate of a beautiful girl who 
 ran to him shrieking in despair, and whom he tried to save, 
 but in vain. 
 
 These fetish-men are really professional murderers, as 
 much as the Thugs of India. If an African king were 
 to become so far civilized as to get his eyes open to the 
 horrible cruelty of these demons in human form, could 
 he make a better use of his knowledge or of his power 
 than to seize them as the most conspicuous examples of 
 crime and its punishment ? Might he not rightfully do to 
 them as they had caused to be done to so many others ? 
 The public execution of a score of those who had been 
 most active and most brutal, might break the spell which 
 they had exercised over the unhappy children of Africa. 
 
 It is vain here to make a comparison between the feeble 
 Jewish Commonwealth and the majestic Roman Empire, 
 which, when it ruled the earth, tolerated all religions, and 
 received injury from none. That had other elements of 
 unity — power, conquest, and dominion. It was in no dan- 
 ger of being mingled and lost in other nations, since it 
 ruled over all. 
 
 Far different was the state of the children of Israel, 
 not yet formed into a nation, wandering like a caravan 
 
132 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH 
 
 across the desert, and ready to crumble into its sands. 
 They had need to cast out every element of discord, the 
 greatest of which was diversity of religion. Their only 
 safety was in a perpetual guard against that demon- wor- 
 ship, which the more debasing it was, the more it exer- 
 cised over them a horrible fascination. 
 
 Nor did these dangers fade away with the memories of 
 Egypt. As they receded from Africa, they approached the 
 hills of Canaan, which smoked with the altars of idolatry. 
 Over all that land reigned a disgusting and cruel worship ; 
 not that purer form of idolatry, the worship of the sun, 
 moon, and stars, which anciently looked up to the skies of 
 Arabia and Chaldea, but a worship of wood and stone, by 
 rites earthly, sensual, and devilish. Some writers give the 
 impression that the native inhabitants of Palestine were an 
 innocent, pastoral people — a simple, primitive race, that 
 were hunted from their pasture-grounds by the Hebrew 
 invaders. But history speaks another language. It de- 
 scribes their religion as a compound of lust and cruelty. 
 They offered human sacrifices to their hideous idols, and 
 even burned their sons and daughters in fire unto their 
 gods.* Centuries later, the Carthaginians, a people of the 
 same Phoenician origin, were found offering human victims 
 upon their altars, on the shores of Africa ; and the fact is 
 beyond question, that among the Canaanites such sacrifices 
 prevailed to a frightful extent. The Valley of Hinnom re- 
 sounded with their drums, and with the shrieks of their 
 burning children. Indeed they seemed to have a strange 
 thirst for blood. Their favorite god, Moloch, fitly repre- 
 sented the cruelty and ferocity of the national character. 
 So enormous had their crimes become that the land itself 
 was ready to “ vomit out its inhabitants.” f 
 
 Against all participation in these dark idolatries, Moses 
 * Deut. xii. 31. f Lev. xviii. 25. 
 
FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 133 
 
 denounced the severest punishment ; against prostration 
 before their images, or offering sacrifices on their altars ; 
 against even attending their festivals,* or in any way coun- 
 tenancing their superstitions. Every monument of the old 
 religion was to be thrown down : “ Ye shall destroy their 
 altars, break their images, and cut dow T n their groves.” f 
 
 But this work of destruction was only clearing the way 
 for the great work of construction. After all this wreck 
 and ruin of cruel rites and degrading superstitions had 
 been swept from the minds of the Hebrews, as they had 
 often seen a vast plain swept by the winds of the desert, 
 Moses began to construct the fabric of a pure religion— 
 the worship of One Living and True God ; and out of this 
 central principle, as the root of a mighty banyan-tree, there 
 sprang a hundred trunks and arms, spreading far and wide, 
 so that a whole nation could dwell under its shade. “ Thou 
 shalt have no other gods before me.” That was the first 
 principle imbedded in the Hebrew Law, the acknowledg- 
 ment of which in itself contained a whole government, and 
 out of the most incoherent elements formed a nation and 
 created a state. 
 
 Such was the Hebrew Commonwealth — a state founded 
 in Religion. Was it therefore founded in fanaticism and 
 folly ? or in profound wisdom and far-seeing sagac- 
 ity? Religion may seem an unsubstantial foundation on 
 which to erect any human structure. It is indeed in- 
 tangible, but only as gravitation is intangible, which yet 
 holds the solar system in its place. So is Religion the 
 most powerful influence which can bind human societies 
 together. Says Coleridge in his Manual for Statesmen — 
 and the great English thinker seldom uttered a profounder 
 truth, or one more worthy of the consideration of states- 
 men — “ Religion, true or false, is, and ever has been, the 
 * Exodus xxxiv. 15. t Exodus xxxiv. 13 ; Deut. xii. 2, 3. 
 
134 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH 
 
 centre of gravity in a realm, to which all other things 
 must and will accommodate themselves.” Would it not 
 he well if some of our modern pretenders to statesman- 
 ship did not so completely ignore its existence and its 
 power ? 
 
 The Religion which Moses gave to the Hebrews was 
 not one merely of abstract ideas : it was incarnated in an 
 outward and visible worship, by which it addressed the 
 senses. On the desert there could not be the imposing 
 and majestic service of the Temple. Yet even here was 
 the Tabernacle set up and the altar, and was offered the 
 daily sacrifice : the smoke and the incense below ascend- 
 ing towards the pillar of cloud above, and the fire on the 
 altar answering to the pillar of fire in the midnight sky. 
 This daily and nightly worship made religion a real, be- 
 cause a visible, thing ; it appealed to the senses and 
 touched the imagination of the people, and held their 
 spirits in awe. And how did that feeling of a God dwell- 
 ing in the midst of them, inspire them with courage for 
 great efforts and great sacrifices ! Weak as they were, 
 they were made strong because they had a Divine Helper, 
 and went forth to battle with confidence, as they sang the 
 stirring psalm, “ Rise up, Lord, and let Thine enemies be 
 scattered ! ” 
 
 H further proof were needed to show the wisdom of 
 Moses in the constitution of the Hebrew state, and of 
 those laws which he set round it as its perpetual de- 
 fence, it is furnished by its subsequent history, which 
 we have but to follow to see how necessary, after all, 
 were those restrictions, and how wise was the great 
 Lawgiver in guarding his people against idolatry. The 
 influence of his mighty name remained for a whole gen- 
 eration after he was in his sepulchre. “ The people served 
 the Lord all the days of Joshua, and of the elders that 
 
FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 135 
 
 outlived Joshua, who had seen all the great works of the 
 Lord, that he did for Israel.” * Those were the days of 
 peace and prosperity, when judges judged justly, and 
 rulers ruled righteously. But then began a decline. In 
 spite of every precaution, the nation fell back. They re- 
 lapsed into idolatry, and even slaughtered human beings 
 on their altars : “ They sacrificed their sons and then- 
 daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, even the 
 blood of their sons and of their daughters, whom they sac- 
 rificed unto the idols of Canaan, and the land was polluted 
 with blood.” f Then they reaped the bitter fruits of dis- 
 regarded wisdom. Moses had foretold the greatest calam- 
 ities from such apostacy, | and his predictions were literally 
 fulfilled. The decline of the nation into idolatry intro- 
 duced an element of discord which tore them to pieces by 
 civil wars, and left them a prey to their powerful neigh- 
 bors. Weakened by divisions, they were subjected to a 
 foreign yoke, and at last were transported to Babylon as a 
 nation of slaves. The same alternate rise and fall are re- 
 peated at many successive periods of their history. 
 
 Such is the story of the Hebrew Commonwealth — a 
 story that has its counterpart in every age, and under all 
 forms of government — always teaching the same lesson, 
 that the decay of religion is the decadence of the state. 
 
 Is there nothing in all this worthy the notice of the 
 political economists of our day ? Are we grown so wise 
 and great that we can despise the wisdom of antiquity and 
 the experience of ages? History repeats itself nowhere 
 more unerringly than in the rise and fall of nations. Hu- 
 man nature is the same in all ages and all countries, and 
 the same causes produce the same effects. Nations seem 
 to revolve in cycles as fixed as those of the planets in their 
 
 * Judges ii. 7. f Psalm cvi. 37, 38. 
 t Lev. xxvi. and Deut. xxvii., xxviii., and xxxii. 
 
136 
 
 THE HEBREW COMMONWEALTH 
 
 orbits, as they rise to glory and sink into decay. They 
 begin in a low estate, with industry and all tbe virtues that 
 are bom of weakness and poverty, till growing strength 
 turns their humility to pride, and wealth and power induce 
 the luxury and its attendant vices which are the sure pre- 
 cursors of ruin. These are only different forms of one dis- 
 ease — an universal selfishness, which eats out the manhood 
 of a people, as concealed rottenness eats out the heart of 
 the oak, and causes at last even the giant of the forest to 
 come thundering to the ground. By these things nations 
 die. It was this internal decay and rottenness which de- 
 stroyed the Roman empire, and may destroy the most pow- 
 erful of modern states. 
 
 To meet such dangers, how weak and puny are the pre- 
 tentious devices of political economists ! In these last 
 days, when men boast as if they had attained all wisdom 
 and all knowledge, the economists claim to have reduced 
 government to a science, which they have mastered as com- 
 pletely as the students of natural science have mastered 
 chemistry ; and yet, to judge from the frequent failures in 
 the most civilized countries, from the rebellions and revo- 
 lutions, this science of government is still but imperfectly 
 understood. Does science furnish any antidote for selfish- 
 ness ? Does a knowledge of chemistry change the internal 
 composition of a man’s nature ? Alas ! that we must con- 
 fess that these things do not alter human character ; that 
 men may be learned and scientific, and yet be as supremely 
 selfish as before. It is a sad commentary on the moral 
 power, or rather the moral weakness, of science and civili- 
 zation, that the nation which claims to be the most highly 
 civilized, and which is the most devoted to science, is the 
 one which has had the most revolutions, and which has 
 more than once been petrified and set aghast by a Reign 
 of Terror. 
 
FOUNDED ON RELIGION. 
 
 137 
 
 Against all these perils, which in our day threaten not 
 only government, hut society itself, there is hut one safe- 
 guard, Religion reenforced, not hy civil enactments, hut 
 by every moral and educational influence. For a nation, 
 as for an individual, the only security is inspiration from 
 above. That alone ennobles human character or human 
 life : 
 
 “ Unless above himself he can erect himself. 
 
 How mean a thing is man 1 ” 
 
 Unless he can reach up to something higher than himself, 
 and take hold of a power stronger than himself, he is hut 
 a helpless unit floating in the great universe, like a mote 
 in the sunbeam. To give any dignity to his life on earth, 
 he must find an attraction out of himself — a central orb 
 around which his little existence can revolve. 
 
 The same law holds in things great and small, with na- 
 tions as with individuals. In the moral and in the mate- 
 rial world there is one Divine order : 
 
 “ One God, one law, one element, 
 
 And one far-off Divine intent, 
 
 To which the whole creation moves.” 
 
 Religion is the source of all man’s highest inspirations — 
 of all things great and noble ; of all things pure and good ; 
 of all things sweet and gracious in human intercourse ; 
 of endless kindnesses and charities. It makes men honest 
 and brave ; it habituates them to self-control, and to obe- 
 dience to law, and thus makes good citizens ; while it in- 
 spires the higher virtues of self-sacrifice and devotion. 
 
 Are not these great elements on which to lay the founda- 
 tions of a state ? Such was the political economy of Moses 
 when he founded the Hebrew Commonwealth on Religion. 
 Was it wisdom or folly? Was it barbarism or civilization? 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 Perhaps it does not often occur to readers of the Old 
 Testament, that there is much likeness between the He- 
 brew Commonwealth and the American Republic. There 
 are more differences than resemblances : at least the dif- 
 ferences are more marked. Governments change with 
 time and place, with the age and the country, with man- 
 ners and customs, with modes of life and degrees of civil- 
 ization. Yet at the bottom there is one radical principle 
 that divides a republic from a monarchy or an aristocracy : 
 it is the natural equality of men — that “ all men are bom 
 free and equal — which is as fully recognized in the laws of 
 Moses as in the Declaration of Independence. Indeed the 
 principle is carried further in. the Hebrew Commonwealth 
 than in ours : for not only was there equality before the 
 laws, but the laws aimed to produce equality of condition 
 in one point, and that a vital one — the tenure of land— 
 of which even the poorest could not be deprived, so that in 
 this respect the Hebrew Commonwealth approached more 
 nearly to a pure democracy. 
 
 Of course the political rights of the people did not ex- 
 tend to the choice of a ruler, nor did it to the making of 
 the laws. As there was no King but God, it was the theory 
 of the state that the laws emanated directly from the Al- 
 mighty, and His commands could not be submitted to a 
 vote. No clamorous populace debated with the Deity. 
 The Israelites had only to hear and to obey. In this 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 139 
 
 sense the government was not a popular, but an abso- 
 lute one. 
 
 But how could absolutism be consistent with equality ? 
 There is no contradiction between the two, and indeed, 
 in some respects, no form of government is so favor- 
 able to equality as a theocracy. Encroachments upon 
 popular liberty, and the oppression of the people, do not 
 come from the head of the state so often as from an aristo- 
 cratic class, which is arrogant and tyrannical. But in 
 a theocracy the very exaltation of the sovereign places all 
 subjects on the same level. God alone is great, and in 
 His presence there is no place for human pride. Divine 
 majesty overawes human littleness, and instead of a fa- 
 vored few being lifted up above their fellows, there is a 
 general feeling of lowliness and humility in the sight of 
 God, in which lies the very spirit and essence of equality. 
 
 As the Hebrew Law recognized no natural distinctions 
 among the people, neither did it create any artificial dis- 
 tinctions. There was no hereditary class which had spe- 
 cial rights ; there was no nobility exempted from bur- 
 dens laid on the poor, and from punishments inflicted 
 on the peasantry. Whatever political power was permit- 
 ted to the Hebrews, belonged to the people as a whole. 
 No man was raised above another ; and if in the making 
 of the laws the people had no voice, yet in the administra- 
 tion of them they had full power, for they elected their 
 own rulers. Moses found soon after he left Egypt that he 
 could not administer justice in person to a whole nation. 
 “ How can I myself alone,” he asked, “ bear your burden, 
 and your cumbrance, and your strife ? ” He therefore 
 directed the tribes to choose out of their number their 
 ■wisest men, whom he would make judges to decide every 
 common cause, reserving to himself only the more impor- 
 tant questions. Here was a system of popular elections, 
 
140 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 which is one of the first elements of a republican or dem- 
 ocratic state. 
 
 There was a close connection between the civil and the 
 military constitution of the Hebrews. The same men who 
 were captains of thousands and captains of hundreds in 
 war, were magistrates in time of peace. 
 
 In every Oriental State the point of greatest weak- 
 ness is the administration of justice. Those who have 
 lived long in the East testify that there is no such tiling as 
 justice ; that no cadi, sitting in the place of judgment, ever 
 pretends to such exceptional virtue as to be above receiv- 
 ing bribes. The utmost that can be expected is the hypoc- 
 risy which is the homage of vice to virtue, and even this is 
 seldom rendered, for where bribery is universal, no one is 
 constrained by shame to conceal it. 
 
 Against this terrible demoralization no rock can stand 
 but that of the Divine authority. In the administration of 
 justice a theocracy is an ideal government, for it is Divin- 
 ity enthroned on earth as in heaven ; and no other form of 
 government enforces justice in a manner so absolute and 
 peremptory. In the eyes of the Hebrew Lawgiver, the 
 civil tribunal was as sacred as the Holy of Holies. The 
 office of the judge was as truly authorized, and his duty as 
 solemnly enjoined, as that of the priest. “ The judgment 
 is God’s,” said Moses, and he who gave a false judgment 
 disregarded the authority of Him whose nature is justice 
 and truth. The judgment-seat was a holy place, which no 
 private malice might profane. Evidence was received with 
 religious care. Oaths were administered to give solemnity 
 to the testimony.* Then the judge, standing in the place 
 of God, was to pronounce equitably, whatever might be the 
 rank of the contending parties : “ Ye shall not respect per- 
 sons in judgment, but ye shall hear the small as well as the 
 *Lev. v. 1. 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 141 
 
 great ; ye shall not be afraid of the face of man, for the 
 judgment is God’s.” * He recognized no distinctions ; all 
 were alike to Him. The judge was to know no differ- 
 ence. He was not to be biased even by sympathy for the 
 poor : “ Neither shalt thou countenance a poor man in his 
 cause.” f “ Thou shalt not respect the person of the poor, 
 nor honor the person of the mighty ; but in righteousness 
 shalt thou judge thy neighbor.” J Magistrates were not 
 allowed to accept a gift, for fear of bribery : “ Thou shalt 
 take no gift : for the gift blindeth the wise, and perverteth 
 the words of the righteous.” § 
 
 To make the administration of justice august and 
 venerable, the higher magistracy -was committed to old 
 men, whose white hairs and silver beards gave dignity to 
 the judicial tribunal. They were called the elders of the 
 congregation. After the Israelites reached Canaan, and 
 were settled in towns and cities, this council of the ancients 
 always sat at the gate of the city, which was the place of 
 public resort. Here they received the homage of the peo- 
 ple as they went forth to work in the fields, or returned at 
 evening to lodge within the walls. When they appeared 
 abroad, they rode on white asses, as the mollahs, or men 
 of the law, in Persia, do to this day, and the heads of 
 families returning from a pilgrimage to Mecca. The au- 
 thority of these magistrates was sacred. No one might 
 rebel against them decisions, nor even speak of them with 
 disrespect : “ Thou shalt not curse the ruler of thy 
 people.” 
 
 In vindicating the wisdom of such a “ Department of 
 Justice,” it is not necessary to limit our comparison to Ori- 
 ental states ; we may extend it to all states, ancient and 
 modern, the most powerful and the most civilized. Where 
 can we find a machinery of law that is more perfect ? The 
 
 *Deut. i. 17. fEx. xxiii. 3. :{Lev. xix. 15., § Ex. xxiii. 8. 
 
142 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 organization was very simple ; it was patriarchal in form. 
 And yet with laws that were plain and intelligible, admin- 
 istered by men whose age and character commanded uni- 
 versal reverence, what could be more admirably framed to 
 secure that which is declared to be one of the great ends 
 of our republican government, “ to establish justice,” than 
 this simple economy of the Hebrew Commonwealth ? 
 
 But now we come to a point in which it not only 
 equalled, but far surpassed, our American Republic in se- 
 curing absolute equality. In the Hebrew state not only 
 did all classes enjoy the same liberty, and have the same 
 rights — not only were all equal before the law, having the 
 same claim to justice and protection — -but the Hebrew pol- 
 ity aimed to secure among the people a general equality 
 of property and of condition. 
 
 On the conquest of Canaan, it was divided into twelve 
 parts, which were assigned by lot to the different tribes. 
 Thus the Hebrew state was a confederacy of twelve small 
 provinces, like the Swiss cantons. The territory of each 
 was then subdivided, so that a portion of land was assigned 
 to every family. This was a military division of the coun- 
 try. A share in the soil might be considered as a reward 
 of every soldier who had fought for the Promised Land. 
 But in the eye of the great Lawgiver, it was designed to 
 have the most important political effects. 
 
 First of all, it settled the country. It gave to every 
 man a fixed and permanent home. For forty years the 
 Israelites had lived in a camp. They had contracted the 
 roving habits of all wandering tribes. Now an army was 
 to be transformed into a nation. The cottage was to take 
 the place of the tent, and the pruning-hook of the spear. 
 All this Moses secured by one simple law. Instead of in- 
 troducing a feudal system, dividing the conquered country 
 to military chiefs, for whom the people should labor as 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 143 
 
 serfs, lie gave the land to all. Each tribe was marched to 
 its new possession, every family entered on its humble es- 
 tate, and Israel began its national existence. This deter- 
 mined the occupations of the people. By planting every 
 father of a family upon a plot of ground which he was to 
 cultivate, Moses formed a nation of farmers — the best citi- 
 zens for a free Commonwealth. The miracle was as great 
 as if immense hordes of wandering Bedaween were in- 
 stantly transformed into quiet husbandmen. 
 
 In modern political economy it is considered necessary 
 to the prosperity of a nation that it should have a varied 
 industry, employing a part of its people in manufactures 
 and in commerce. But Moses founded a state almost 
 wholly upon agriculture. Manufactures he did not en- 
 courage. Doubtless the Israelites, while in Egypt, had 
 acquired skill in mechanic arts, as they showed in working 
 gold and tapestry for the Tabernacle. But the Hebrew 
 Lawgiver took no pains to cherish this branch of indus- 
 try, and it is probable that the aids afterwards sunk into 
 the hands of slaves. 
 
 Nor did he introduce commerce. There was an inland 
 trade which sufficed for the simple wants of the people. 
 Their festivals, besides their religious design, probably 
 served as annual fairs. The caravans, which passed from 
 Asia to Africa, carried down their products to Egypt. 
 But of navigation they knew nothing. Though Palestine 
 lay at the head of the Mediterranean, in the best maritime 
 position in the world, scarcely a bark ventured from the 
 coast before the time of Solomon. Zebulon and Naphtali 
 dwelt by the sea ; yet nothing is said of the excellence 
 of their ports and harbors. The attraction of Palestine 
 was its fitness for agriculture : “ The Lord thy God bring- 
 eth thee into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of 
 fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills ; 
 
144 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 a land of wheat, and barley, and vines, and figtrees, and 
 pomegranates ; a land of oil-olive and honey.” * 
 
 This aversion to commerce Moses may have derived 
 from the Egyptians, who had a horror of the sea. But 
 he had other reasons for it, and his policy in this re- 
 spect is another proof of his profound political sagacity. 
 Commerce promotes intercourse with foreign nations, 
 which for the best reasons he wished to discourage. By 
 dispersing abroad the citizens of a State, it weakens the 
 tie which binds them to their country. A nation that does 
 not live at home, quickly loses its nationality. Of this the 
 Jews at this day are the best possible proof. Scattered 
 in all countries, they are equally ready to lend their 
 money to Christian or Turk, and to fight for or against 
 any people or cause. Agriculture, on the other hand, 
 keeping all the inhabitants at home, promotes patriotism 
 and attachment to the national religion. Farmers are 
 the strength of a state, for they are generally both peace- 
 ful citizens and brave warriors. A small state is never so 
 invincible as when all its citizens are independent free- 
 holders. Then every man has an interest rooted in the 
 soil. He fights for his country because he fights for his 
 home. 
 
 Commerce, too, would introduce foreign luxury, which 
 would corrupt the simplicity of a democratic state. True, 
 it might make the Hebrews rich. But it was not the 
 object of Moses to make his people opulent, but free, con- 
 tented, and happy. He aimed not to erect a splendid 
 monarchy, like that of Egypt or Assyria, but to found 
 a simple and religious Commonwealth. By confining the 
 Hebrews to rural occupations, he preserved a Spartan fru- 
 gality and economy, the most proper to a free state. He 
 preserved a general equality among the people. Even to 
 * Deut. viii. 7 8. 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 145 
 
 the humblest was secured his little home-lot, so that, how- 
 ever poor, he would still feel that he was on the same plane 
 with his neighbors, working in the same fields, performing 
 the same labor, and entitled to the same respect. 
 
 But this simplicity and equality could not long have 
 remained, since large estates would begin to swallow up 
 the smaller-, but for another law, that the land was inalien- 
 able. In Egypt the soil belonged to the king, of whom the 
 people received it as tenants. So the Divine Euler re- 
 served to himself the title to the new country which 
 the Israelites were to enter : “ The land shall not be 
 sold forever ; for the land is mine, for ye are strangers 
 and sojourners with me.”* A man could sell the produce 
 of his farm, or make over the income of an estate for a 
 term of years ; but the land itself was the gift of God to his 
 family, and remained in it from generation to generation. 
 
 Political writers may object to this as an agrarian law. 
 But its effect was most happy. It prevented the accumu- 
 lation of great estates. It checked the ambition of the 
 chiefs. It formed a barrier to the influx of foreign luxury, 
 and to those civil discords which always spring from great 
 inequalities of social condition. The disregard of this law 
 at a later period was one of the causes which hastened the 
 ruin of the state. “Woe unto them,” said the prophet, 
 “ that lay field to field till there be no place, that they may 
 be left alone in the midst of the earth ! ” 
 
 But at the beginning the Hebrew state presented the 
 remarkable spectacle of two millions and a half of people, 
 all equal in rank, and very nearly so in condition. This 
 fact is the more surprising when contrasted with the 
 monstrous inequalities which prevailed in other Oriental 
 countries. Indeed, a parallel to this it would not be pos- 
 sible to find in the most democratic modern state. 
 
 * Lev. xxv. 23. 
 
146 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 By this equal distribution of the landed property of 
 the nation, the law furnished the strongest barrier against 
 pauperism. Still, in the best regulated society, inequality 
 of conditions must arise. Special enactments, therefore, 
 were added to protect the poor from oppression, and to 
 soften the hardships of their lot. The laborer, who de- 
 pended on his daily wages, was to be paid promptly : 
 “ The wages of him that is hired shall not abide with thee 
 all night until the morning.” * Certain property was sa- 
 cred : “ No man shall take the nether or the upper mill- 
 stone to pledge ; for he taketh a man’s life.” f 
 
 If, by a series of calamities, a man had become impov- 
 erished, his more prosperous neighbors were enjoined to 
 lend him money ; and although this was not a statute, to 
 the violation of which was annexed a legal penalty, it was 
 a rule which could not be disregarded without a degree of 
 infamy, such as would attach to an Arab chief, who should 
 violate the laws of hospitality. Thus did the Hebrew law 
 enjoin a mutual helpfulness that is the best guard against 
 inequalities of condition. 
 
 The humanity of the Hebrew code is further seen in 
 its mitigation of slavery. This was a legal institution of 
 Egypt, out of which they had just come. They themselves 
 had been slaves. Their ancestors, the patriarchs, had held 
 slaves. Abraham had over three hundred servants born 
 in his house. J The relation of master and slave they 
 still recognized. But by how many limitations was this 
 state of bondage alleviated ! No man could be subjected 
 to slavery by violence. Man-stealing was punished with 
 death. § The more common causes of servitude were theft 
 or debt. A robber might be sold to expiate his eiime ; 
 or a man overwhelmed with debt, might sell himself to 
 
 * Lev. xix. 13 ; Deut. xxiv. 15. f Deut. xxiv. 6, 10-12. 
 
 JGen. xiv. 11. § Ex. xxi. 16; Deut. xxiv. 7. 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 147 
 
 pay it ; that is, lie might hind himself to service for a term 
 of years. Still, he could hold property, and the moment 
 he acquired the means, might purchase hack his freedom, 
 or he might be redeemed by Lis nearest kinsman.* If 
 his master treated him with cruelty ; if he beat him so as 
 to cause injury, the servant recovered his freedom as 
 indemnity.f At the longest, his servitude came to an end 
 in six years. He then recovered his freedom as a natural 
 right : “ If thou buy an Hebrew servant, six years he shall 
 serve ; and in the seventh he shall go out free for noth- 
 ing.” | A Hebrew slave was, therefore, merely a laborer 
 hired for six years. Nor did the law permit the faithful 
 servant to go forth in naked poverty, and with the abject 
 feeling of a slave still clinging to him. He was to be 
 loaded with presents by his late master— sheep, oil, fruits, 
 and wine — to enable him to begin housekeeping. § Thus 
 for a Hebrew there was no such thing as hopeless 
 bondage. The people were not to feel the degradation 
 of being slaves. God claimed them as His own, and as 
 such they were not to be made bondmen. || Every fiftieth 
 year was a jubilee, a year of universal emancipation. 
 Then “ liberty was proclaimed throughout all the land to 
 all the inhabitants thereof.” This was the time of the 
 restitution of all things. Though a man had sold himself 
 as a slave, his right in the land was not alienated. It 
 now returned to him free of encumbrance. At the year of 
 jubilee all debts were extinguished. His native plot of 
 ground, on which he played in childhood, was restored to 
 him in his old age. Again he cultivated the paternal acres. 
 He was not only a free man, but a holder of property. 
 
 It is true these rights were limited to slaves of Hebrew 
 descent. The Canaanites were considered as captives in 
 
 * Lev. XXV. 49. f Ex. xxi. 26, 27. £Ex. xxi. 2. 
 
 § Deut. xv. 13-15. || Lev. xxv. 42. IT Lev. xxv. 10. 
 
148 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 war, whose lives had been spared by the conquerors. 
 The Gibeonites employed artifice to obtain this hard con- 
 dition, that they might remain in the land as a servile race. 
 A stranger, therefore, might be a servant forever. But 
 even these foreign Helots had many rights. They, as well 
 as the Hebrews, enjoyed the rest of the Sabbath.* They 
 shared the general rejoicing on the great festivals. To 
 certain feasts they were especially to be invited. f Thus 
 the hearts of the bondmen were lightened in the midst of 
 their toil. They were always to be treated with humanity 
 and kindness. In fact, they lived in the houses of their 
 masters more as hired servants than as slaves. They were 
 the family domestics, and were often the objects of extreme 
 attachment and confidence. Says Michaelis : “ The condi- 
 tion of slaves among the Hebrews was not merely tolerable, 
 but often extremely comfortable.” 
 
 That the sympathies of the law were with the oppressed 
 against the oppressor, appears from the singular injunction 
 that a foreign slave, who fled to a Hebrew for protection, 
 should not be given up : “ Thou shalt not deliver unto his 
 master the servant which is escaped from his master unto 
 thee.” J No Fugitive Slave Law remanded the terror- 
 stricken fugitive to an angry and infuriated master, and 
 to a condition more hopeless than before. 
 
 Contrast this mild servitude with the iron bondage 
 which crushed the servile class in other ancient nations : 
 “Among the Romans slaves were held — pro nullis — pro 
 mortuis — pro quadrupedibus — as no men — as dead men — as 
 beasts ; nay, were in a much worse state than any cattle 
 whatever. They had no head in the state, no name , no < 
 tribe or register. They were not capable of being injured, 
 nor could they take by purchase or descent ; they had no 
 heirs, and could make no will. Exclusive of what was 
 * Ex. xx. 10. t Deut. xii. 18 , and xvi. 11. J Deut. xxiii. 15. 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 149 
 
 called tlieir peculium, whatever they acquired was their 
 master’s ; they could neither plead, nor be pleaded, hut 
 were entirely excluded from all civil concerns ; were not 
 entitled to the rights of matrimony, and therefore had no 
 l’elief in case of adultery ; nor were they proper subjects 
 of cognation or affinity. They might be sold, transferred, 
 or pawned, like other goods or personal estate ; for goods 
 they were, and as such they were esteemed.” * 
 
 Can there be a greater contrast between the laws of 
 different states than that between the Roman law and the 
 Hebrew law in regard to slaves ? And yet Rome was the 
 most powerful empire on the earth, and claimed to be 
 highly civilized. But which code leans more to barbar- 
 ism ? Which is instinct with the spirit of a new and bet- 
 ter civilization ? Moses was the first to recognize slaves as 
 human beings. No matter how low the slave might be in 
 the Scale of rank — how abject his condition — he was a man. 
 We boast of this doctrine of equality as if it were a mod- 
 ern discovery, and popular assemblies applaud, or sing in 
 chorus, the noble line of Burns, 
 
 “A man’s a man for a’ that,” 
 
 forgetting that the fine sentiment of the poet was a rec- 
 ognized truth and a principle of law more than thirty 
 centuries before he was born. Indeed no other state, 
 ancient or modern, not Scotland or Switzerland, answered 
 more fully to the poet’s dream of simplicity and equality 
 than that which was planted on the Judean hills. A state 
 which respected manhood and womanhood, and in which 
 labor was honorable, and agricultural labor above all the 
 most honored of human pursuits, was the very one in 
 which the free-hearted Scot might have 
 “ Walked in glory and in joy 
 Behind his plough along the mountain side.” 
 
 * Horne’s Introduction. American edition. Yol. II., p. 166. Note. 
 
150 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 Such was the democracy of theocracy — a democracy 
 not merely joined with theocracy in a forced and unnatu- 
 ral union — an alliance of two systems which were by na- 
 ture hostile, and ready to fly apart ; but a union in which 
 one sprang out of the other. Men were equal because God ► 
 was their Ruler — a Ruler so high that before Him there 
 was neither great nor small, but all stood on the same level. 
 
 But the Hebrew Law did not stop with equality : it 
 inculcated fraternity. A man was not only a man, he was 
 a brother. That Law contains some of the most beautiful 
 provisions ever recorded in any legislation, not only for the 
 cold administration of justice, but for the exercise of hu- 
 manity. The spirit of the Hebrew Law was broader than 
 race, or country, or kindred. What liberality, for example, 
 in its treatment of foreigners ! In the Exodus of the Israel- 
 ites ; in their migration from the Delta to the Desert ; in 
 their long wanderings through the wilderness ; and in their 
 approaches to the Holy Land — they came in contact with 
 other tribes and nations. With these they were often at war ; 
 but after the war there were great numbers of persons of 
 foreign birth settled among them, and unless guarded by 
 special enactments, they were liable to be objects of ha- 
 tred and persecution. Among the ancients generally a for- 
 eigner had no rights in any country but his own. In some 
 languages the very word “ stranger ” was synonymous with 
 enemy. Against all these race hatreds Moses set up this 
 command, “Thou shalt not oppress a stranger” — which he 
 enforced upon the Israelites by the touching remembrance 
 iof their own bitter experience — “for ye know the heart of 
 a stranger, seeing ye were strangers in the land of Egypt.”* 
 Perhaps indeed he thought of himself — how he had once 
 fled to this land of Midian, and been a wanderer among 
 these mountains ; and remembering his own days of lone- 
 * Ex. xxiii. 9. 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 151 
 
 liness and exile, he bade them regard with pitying tender- 
 ness those who were strangers, as he had been. 
 
 But not only were foreigners to be tolerated ; they 
 were to receive the fullest protection : “ Ye shall have 
 one manner of law as well for the stranger as for one of 
 your own country.” * If they chose to be naturalized, 
 they became entitled to all the privileges of Hebrews. 
 
 Still further, all were required to render acts of neigh- 
 borly kindness, which would be considered too minute to 
 be specified in modern law. Whoever saw an ox going 
 astray, was required to return it to the owner. The chief 
 property of the husbandman, next to his land, was his 
 cattle. And thus the Law saved to him his most valuable 
 possession. 
 
 In several requirements, we discern a pity for the brute 
 creation. Long before modern refinement of feeling or- 
 ganized societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals, 
 Moses recognized dumb beasts as having a claim to be de- 
 fended from injury. If one saw the ass even of an enemy 
 lying under its burden, he was to lift it up.f Birds’ nests 
 were protected from wanton destruction.! Even the sem- 
 blance of an unnatural act was forbidden : “ Thou shalt 
 not seethe a kid in his mother’s milk.” § This may appear 
 an over-refinement of legislation ; but it shows the deli- 
 cacy of feeling of the Lawgiver — that he shrank even from 
 the appearance of barbarity. Thus he strove to extinguish 
 the spirit of cruelty. If these enactments seem trifling, 
 they at least indicate the strong instinct of humanity which 
 framed these ancient statutes. 
 
 But perhaps the most beautiful provision of the Law 
 was for the poor. When the land was rejoicing at the time 
 of the vintage, they were not forgotten : “ When ye reap 
 the harvest of your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the 
 
 * Lev. xxiv. 22. f Ex. xxiii. 4, 5. J Deut. xxii. 6. § Ex. xxiii. 19. 
 
152 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 comers of thy field, neither shalt thou gather the glean- 
 ings of thy harvests. And thou shalt not glean thy vine- 
 yard, neither shalt thou gather every grape of thy vine- 
 yard ; thou shalt leave them for the poor and the stran- 
 ger.” * If the reaper dropped a sheaf in the field, he 
 might not return to take it. "Whatever olives hung on the 
 bough, or clusters on the vine, after the first gathering, 
 were the property of “ the stranger, the fatherless, and the 
 widow.” f Under the shelter of this law came many a 
 Ruth, gleaning the handfuls of golden corn to carry home 
 to her mother, who was thus saved from utter destitution. 
 By these means the Law kept the poor from sinking to the 
 extreme point of misery. It prevented that hopeless pov- 
 erty which forces the Irish peasant to emigrate. It kept 
 them in the country. At the same time, by throwing in 
 their path these wayside gifts, it saved them from theft or 
 vagabondage. As a proof of its successful operation, it is 
 a curious fact that, in the five books of Moses, such a 
 class as beggars is not once mentioned ! The tradition of 
 caring for those of their own kindred, remains to this day ; 
 and it is an honorable boast that among the swarms of 
 beggars that throng the streets of the Old World or the 
 New, one almost never finds a Jew ! 
 
 In these humane provisions may be traced the germ of 
 those asylums and hospitals for the relief of human mis- 
 ery which now cover the civilized world. 
 
 The Law also took under its care all whom death had 
 deprived of their natural protectors : “ Ye shall not afflict 
 any widow or fatherless child.” They were sacred by mis- 
 fortune. God would punish cruelty to them : “ If thou 
 afflict them in any wise, and they cry unto me, I will surely 
 hear their cry ; and your wives shall he widows, and your chil- 
 dren fatherless.” | 
 
 * Lev. xix. 9, 10. 
 
 t Deut. xxiv. 19-21. 
 
 1 Ex. xxii. 22-24, 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 153 
 
 Tliis last provision strikes me tlie more from its con- 
 trast with what I have observed in another country of 
 Asia, which boasts of a religion derived from the remotest 
 antiquity, and inspired with a Divine W'isdom. Only six 
 years since I was in India, where, among other things that 
 opened my eyes, I learned that the condition of widows had 
 been made hardly more tolerable by the abolition of the 
 suttee ; that when a husband died, his widow was looked 
 upon as one accursed, whose only act of dignity was to 
 throw herself upon his funeral pile, and let her ashes 
 mingle with his. If she dared to live, she was subjected 
 to sufferings and humiliations, even from her own nearest 
 kindred, from which death itself were a relief. From that 
 inhumanity of the Hindoo, which extinguishes even the 
 promptings of nature, I turn to the Hebrew lawgiver, and 
 find him looking after the poorest and the weakest, the 
 loneliest and the most suffering, of the daughters of 
 Israel, that he may protect those who had lost their nat- 
 ural protectors ; and that, speaking in the name of the 
 Highest, he warned any who would do them -wrong, that 
 their wives should be doomed to widowhood and their 
 children to orphanage ! Thus the Hebrew Law took the 
 poor and the weak under its special protection. If a man 
 had any physical infirmity ; if he were blind or deaf, that, 
 instead of exposing him to be mocked at, furnished the 
 strongest claim to sympathy and tenderness. “Thou 
 shalt not curse the deaf” [even though he cannot hear 
 it,] “ nor put a stumbling-block before the blind ” [even 
 though he cannot see it].* It is a beautiful trait of some 
 savage tribes that they regard as sacred the persons of 
 the insane. They do not dare to irritate the mind that 
 has been troubled by a mysterious visitation of God. So 
 under the Hebrew Law, death, sorrow, widowhood, or- 
 * Lev. xix. 14. 
 
154 
 
 THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 phanage, all threw a shield of protection over the desolate 
 and the unhappy. By this spirit of humanity infused into 
 the relations of life, all the members of the community — 
 the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak — were united 
 in fellowship and fraternity. One sacred tie bound them 
 still closer : not only were they of the same race and na- 
 tion, but they had an equal share in the same religious in- 
 heritance ; all were fellow-citizens with the saints, and of 
 the household of God. 
 
 Thus did the Hebrew Commonwealth contain in itself 
 the two principles of theocracy and democracy in perfect 
 union — a union in which there was the greatest freedom 
 consistent with order, and a degree of equality hardly to 
 be found in any other ancient or modern state. And I 
 make bold to affirm that there is not, that there never has 
 been, and never will be, any true liberty which does not 
 receive its inspiration from the same source. Not that 
 modern governments are to adopt the theocratic form, but 
 that the spirit which recognizes God as the Supreme Ruler 
 of nations as well as of individuals, which inspires loyalty 
 and obedience to Him, is the only spirit which consists 
 with liberty. No free state can keep its liberty which has 
 not God as its Protector. Men cannot proteci themselves ; 
 they need to be protected against themselves. Man is by 
 nature selfish, and if invested with unlimited power, he is 
 by nature a tyrant. Men are the oppressors of men, and 
 there is nothing against which society and individuals need 
 to be protected so much as “ man’s inhumanity to man.” 
 
 Let the student of history make a special study of the 
 History of Liberty, and see how all spasmodic attempts 
 like those of the French Revolution have perished igno- 
 miniously, because there was no power in mere liberty to 
 restrain the natural passions of men. The Paris Commune 
 may placard the walls of the city with the high-sounding 
 
THEOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY. 
 
 155 
 
 words, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity ; yet what do these 
 amount to, so long as there is nothing in the hearts of the 
 people to check the universal selfishness ? The catchwords 
 of modern democracy will be powerless among a people 
 who believe in nothing, and care for nothing, but them- 
 selves. They may disguise their selfishness in political 
 phrases, as in forms of politeness ; yet they will be the 
 same as before — just as unscrupulous of the rights of oth- 
 ers, just as eager to grasp everything for themselves. Ex- 
 periments at self-government by such a people have but 
 little promise of success. Liberty soon x’uns into license ; 
 a spirit of lawlessness ends in anarchy, and anarchy at last 
 is drowned in blood. Human selfishness is a force so ex- 
 plosive that it shatters all the limitations that can be put 
 round it, to compress and confine it, save only a military 
 despotism, in which such experiments at liberty generally 
 end. 
 
 For all these ills of society there is but one effectual 
 cure. Religion alone restrains men on the one hand, and 
 inspires them on the other ; and without that, as the vital 
 element working in the state, there can never be true lib- 
 erty. It is God alone “ whose service is perfect freedom ” ; 
 who is the Creator of all men, and before whom all are 
 equal ; and looking up to whom in humble love and trust, 
 men feel that they are children of one Father, and are 
 bound heart to heart in universal brotherhood. 
 
CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 Mild and humane as were many features of the He- 
 brew Law, it had one blot which cannot be effaced — its 
 criminal law was the most harsh and cruel that ever 
 stained the annals of mankind. So say its enemies, of 
 whom there are many, for it stands in the way of many 
 pi'oposed changes and “reforms.” The advocates of the 
 abolition of capital punishment find it an obstacle, to re- 
 move which they must question not only the inspiration 
 of Moses, but his wisdom and humanity. Forty years 
 ago there was a movement in the State of New York 
 to abolish the punishment of death, and its principal 
 advocate made an elaborate report, some pages of which 
 are devoted to the Hebrew legislation.* The Mosaic his- 
 tory, he declares, “ is impressed on every page with the 
 stamp of the superhuman — the superhuman at times 
 running into the inhuman.” Like every man of intel- 
 ligence who has made a study of history, he regards not 
 only with curiosity but veneration the most ancient body 
 of laws which has come down to us, while he considers 
 it wholly unfitted to an age and a country so highly civil- 
 ized as ours. Its punishments are so disproportioned 
 to the offence, that “ it would be a perfect insanity of 
 ferocity and fanaticism to think of applying them at the 
 
 * Report in favor of the Abolition of the Punishment of Death, made 
 to the Legislature of the State of New York, April 14, 1841, by John L. 
 O’Sullivan. 
 
THE CRIMINAL LAW. 
 
 157 
 
 present day.” With laws so rigid and unbending, en- 
 forced by penalties so barbarous and cruel, he does not 
 hesitate to say that “ The Code of Moses was scarcely less 
 sanguinary than that which the Athenian legislator was 
 said to have written in blood ! ” 
 
 This is a formidable indictment, and yet it must be 
 confessed that there is a pretty strong presumption of 
 severity in the number of capital crimes. In America 
 the penalty of death is rarely inflicted except for wilful, 
 deliberate murder. Other offences — such as arson and 
 highway robbery — have been, and in some states still 
 are, capital : but the number has been gradually dimin- 
 ished, till in the actual administration of justice they 
 are reduced to one, and even in that, such is the morbid 
 feeling of juries, that a conviction is with difficulty ob- 
 tained. 
 
 What then shall be thought of a code in which there 
 were seventeen capital crimes ? Could a people be said 
 to have emerged from barbarism which could only be 
 kept under control by such sanguinary enactments ? But 
 Great Britain was considered a civilized country two hun- 
 dred years ago, and yet there were on its statute books 
 one hundred and forty-eight offences which were pun- 
 ishable with death, some of which, such as poaching, 
 we should consider as of a very petty character, hardly 
 to be spoken of as crimes. * In the Hebrew laws 
 the punishment of death w T as always for crimes which 
 struck at the very foundations of society (even though 
 in some cases our milder law’s may treat them as 
 light offences), as, for example, disobedience to parents 
 and contempt of parental authority. This v’as a relic of 
 patriarchal times. The earliest form of human govern- 
 
 * Wines’s Commentaries on the Laws of the Ancient Hebrews, 
 p. 263. 
 
158 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 ment was the authority which a father assumed over his 
 children. Traces of this primitive rule are found in all 
 ancient nations. Among the early Romans a father had 
 the right of life and death. Much of this spirit lingered 
 among the Hebrews. The parent had not, indeed, abso- 
 lute disposal of the life of a child. Still his authority was 
 very great. And it is a beautiful feature of the Hebrew 
 law that it made sacred that parental supremacy which 
 nature ordains. It required the young to render to the 
 aged outward marks of reverence : “ Thou shalt rise up 
 before the hoary head, and honor the face of the old 
 man.”* "Whoever struck his father or mother, or cursed 
 them, committed a capital crime. f And in extreme cases, 
 a son who was utterly ungovernable might be given up 
 to the same punishment. J The great lawgiver judged 
 that an incorrigible son was a hopeless member of soci- 
 ety, and he was therefore cut off in the beginning of his 
 career to ruin. If under our laws disobedience to parents 
 is made a light offence, it is a question whether that is to 
 be put to the credit of our civilization. 
 
 So the Hebrew laws were more strict than ours in 
 protecting female chastity. The nations around the Isra- 
 elites were sunk in the vices of Sodom. Lest they should 
 
 * Lev. six. 32. + Ex. xxi. 15. 
 
 t “ If a man have a stubborn and rebellious son, which will 
 not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and 
 that when they have chastened him, will not hearken unto them ; 
 then shall his father and his mother lay hold on him, and bring 
 him out unto the elders of his city, and unto the gate of his 
 place ; and they shall say unto the elders of his city, This our 
 son is stubborn and rebellious ; he will not obey our voice ; he 
 is a glutton and a drunkard. And all the men of his city shall 
 stone him with stones that he die : so shalt thou put evil away 
 from among you ; and all Israel shall hear and fear.” Deut. xxi. 
 18-21. 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD 
 
 159 
 
 be snared in such practices, these horrible pollutions were 
 punished with death. All licentious connection with 
 strangers was a capital offence. In one instance an 
 Israelite who brought a foreign woman into the camp was 
 killed on the spot.* This severity was deemed necessary 
 where the contagion of such examples tempted to fre- 
 quent offences against purity. Something was conceded 
 to the ancient customs of the East, in tolerating polygamy 
 and divorce. Christ said that for the hardness of their 
 hearts Moses suffered them to put away their waves, f 
 But beyond this hardship, the law surrounded the feebler 
 sex with a wall of fire. Violence to them was a capital 
 crime. So were adultery and incest. In cases of seduc- 
 tion, the guilty party was compelled to make reparation. 
 A man who seduced a maiden was obliged to marry her ; 
 and he forfeited the right, possessed by other husbands, 
 of giving her a divorce. J If her father refused to permit 
 the marriage, the seducer was required to pay her a 
 dowry. § Moses was jealous of intermarriage, and speci- 
 fied minutely the limits of kindred within which alliances 
 were prohibited. || The least contact with impurity, how- 
 ever innocent, inferred a ceremonial uncleanness, which 
 had to be expiated by a seclusion and rites of purification. 
 Thus his law refined the popular sentiments and manners 
 and morals. If the sacredness attached to the virtue of 
 woman be a mark of the degree of a people’s civilization, 
 the Hebrews were greatly in advance of all other Oriental 
 nations. 
 
 The laws for the protection of property were singular, 
 but certainly they were not severe. They were substan- 
 tially the same which, as we have seen, are still the law 
 of the desert. The main principle was restitution of 
 
 * Numbers xxv. f Matt. xix. 8. J Deut. xxii. 29. 
 
 § Ex. xxii. 16, 17. ||Lev. xviii. 
 
160 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 whatever was wrongfully taken, with ample compensation 
 for loss. Certain property was still further protected. 
 As the Israelites depended for food upon their flocks, he 
 who stole a sheep was compelled to restore fourfold. 
 Oxen were still more necessary for their use in agricul- 
 ture, as the Israelites had no horses until the time of 
 Solomon. A stolen ox, therefore, was to be restored 
 fivefold. These laws might be easily enforced among a 
 simple agricultural people, where the kinds of property 
 were few, and the same possessed by all. 
 
 Lest, however, the thief should make way with the 
 property, and then escape by a poor debtor’s oath, the law 
 provided that in case he could not make restitution, he 
 should be sold as a slave to indemnify the man whom he 
 had robbed. This may seem a harsh addition ; but when 
 it is remembered that no Hebrew could be sold for more 
 than six years, the punishment will appear singularly 
 mild, especially compared with the law of England, which, 
 until recently, punished with death not only highway rob- 
 bery, and coining, counterfeiting, and forgery, but even 
 petty larcenies. 
 
 Last and greatest of crimes in the scale of ordinary 
 criminal law, are those against the person and against life. 
 Here, if anywhere, we shall find the track of blood. The 
 law is indeed rigid and relentless. Here it is in all its 
 severity : “ Life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand 
 for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning, wound for 
 wound, stripe for stripe.” * This our Reformer designates 
 ? as “a part of that savage and monstrous lex talionis so 
 abhorrent to the express injunctions as well as to the 
 whole spirit of Christianity.” “ The law of revenge con- 
 stitutes one of the very fundamental principles in the code 
 of Moses — its cruel injunctions sanctioning all the most 
 * Ex. xxi. 23-25. 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 161 
 
 cruel impulses of the savage heart.” It is time that it was . 
 sometimes perverted to sanction private revenge — a per- 1 
 version which was rebuked by Christ, who repudiated it as 
 a rule of individual conduct. It was never intended to 
 legalize hatred, and taking the law into one’s own hands. 
 The Old Testament, as well as the New, required a spirit of 
 forgiveness : “ Thou slialt not hate thy brother in thine 
 heart ; thou shalt rob avenge, nor bear any grudge against 
 the children of t: y p ople, but thou shalt love thy neigh- 
 bor as thyself.” * 
 
 The only sense in which retaliation was authorized, 
 was as a maxim of law, which helped to fix the measure 
 of punishment for crime. As such it is the first impulse 
 of rude, primitive justice ; and it was the mode of punish- 
 ment which was at once the simplest, the most natural, 
 and the most easily administered. Indeed in many cases 
 it was the only mode possible. How would our modern re- 
 formers punish such offences ? By putting the malefactor 
 in prison ? But where was the prison on the desert ? The 
 penalty of imprisonment was unknown among the He- 
 brews in the time of Moses. Twice a man is said to have 
 been “ put in ward ” until the Divine sentence could be 
 declared. But except the prison in which Joseph was 
 confined in Egypt, we do not read of such a thing until 
 the period of the Jewish kings. On the desert the only 
 possible penalty was one which could be indicted on the 
 person of the offender, and here the principle of strict 
 retaliation for the crime committed, rigid as it may seem, 
 was perfectly just. It was right that he who inflicted a 
 wound upon his neighbor should feel himself how sharp 
 and keen a wound may be ; that he who ferociously tore 
 his brother’s eye from its socket, should forfeit his own. 
 
 It is worthy of note that the same law was adopted by 
 *Lev. xix. 17, 18. 
 
162 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 the two most enlightened states of antiquity, Athens and 
 Rome. Solon even went further than Moses, and enacted 
 that “whoever put out the only eye of a one-eyed man, 
 should lose both his own.” * Is it said this is still press- 
 ing the claim of justice beyond the limits of humanity? 
 I reply, the extreme severity of these punishments may 
 have been the only means to restrain the outbreaks of 
 passion and to prevent the acts which required such retri- 
 bution. 
 
 It has been well observed that such a law could be 
 enforced only where there was a general equality among 
 the citizens. In the later days of Rome, when the spoils 
 of many lands had enriched a few powerful families, this 
 principle of strict retaliation was abolished, and fines sub- 
 stituted as a compensation for crime. But as the fine was 
 no punishment to a Roman patrician, the law was no pro- 
 tection to the poor. The old Hebrew justice alone made 
 all men equal. By that, the body of every man was sacred 
 and inviolable. The hard hand of the laborer was as 
 precious as the soft hand of the rich. The injured man 
 might, indeed, take pecuniary indemnity. But he might 
 refuse it, and insist on blood for blood. Certainly this 
 was a stern law ; but it afforded a powerful protection to 
 the weak. No man dared to lay upon them the hand of 
 violence. 
 
 The laws against murder followed the same inexorable 
 rule — life for life — a law in which there was no element of 
 pardon and pity. But Moses did not create it. It has 
 been the law of the desert for thousands of years. "When 
 that old bearded Sheikh of all the Bedaween of Sinai, sit- 
 ting under the shadow of a great rock in the desert, 
 explained to us the operation of the lex talionis in his 
 
 * Michaelis’s Commentaries on the Laws of Moses, Vol. III., 
 p. 453. 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 1G3 
 
 tribe, be set before us not only tbat which now is, but that 
 which has been from the very beginning of time. It was 
 somewhat startling indeed to find that laws and customs 
 which we had supposed to belong only to an extreme 
 antiquity, still lingered among these mountains and des- 
 erts. The blood-feud existed among the Hebrews as it 
 did among the Arabs. Kindred in race, they had the 
 same fierce and implacable spirit as the descendants of 
 Ishmael. Their resentments were quick and uncontrolla- 
 ble. No sooner had a man fallen than his nearest relative 
 became the avenger of his blood, whose duty it was to 
 pursue and take the life of the murderer. To a certain 
 extent, Moses was obliged to yield to this impulse of exas- 
 peration and of wounded honor. It were easy, indeed, to 
 forbid the Hebrew to seek retaliation ; but it was not easy 
 to enforce such a law where it was a point of honor for a 
 man to take justice into his own hands. Here comes the 
 difficult task of the legislator — to deal with popular pas- 
 sions and prejudices, and to soften barbarous customs 
 which he cannot wholly eradicate. It is very interesting 
 to compare the unwritten law of the desert with the com- 
 mandments of Moses ; and to see how, in dealing with 
 usages which he could not wholly suppress, he yet modi- 
 fied them in the interest of justice and humanity. He 
 adopted a novel method to disarm the rage of the in- 
 jured Israelite, which showed his thorough understand- 
 ing of the popular passions. He did not forbid directly 
 the attempt to take revenge, but gave full scope to the 
 natural feeling of resentment and indignation. The 
 avenger of blood might follow with swift foot upon the 
 murderer’s track, and if he overtook him and put him to 
 death, the law held him free. But at the same time it 
 gave the criminal a chance for his life. Six cities were 
 designated — three on either side Jordan — as Cities of Ref- 
 
164 
 
 TIIE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 uge. They were sacred, as inhabited by the priests, and 
 the avenger of blood could not enter them. They stood 
 on the great highways of the country, and the roads to 
 them w r ere always to be kept open. To these the man- 
 slayer might flee. Here he was safe until he could have 
 a fair trial. He was protected from the first burst of the 
 avenger’s fury till his crime should receive an impartial 
 examination. In case of accidental homicide, or of man- 
 slaughter committed in a moment of passion, he was not 
 put to death, although, as a matter of safety, he was com- 
 pelled to reside for a time in the City of Refuge, since 
 such was the popular feeling that he could not appear 
 abroad.* Thus indirectly, but most effectually, did Moses 
 guard against a sudden and bloody revenge. Even the 
 author of this Report admits that this feature of the Jew- 
 ish law was “ perhaps the utmost mitigation practicable 
 of the existing practice and irresistible passion” of a 
 “ semi-savage ” race. 
 
 On the other hand, if, upon trial, the refugee were 
 found to have committed deliberate murder, this sanc- 
 tuary should not protect him, but he might be torn from 
 the altar, and given up to justice."}" For this great crime 
 the punishment was death, without redemption or com- 
 mutation. Mahomet allowed the kinsman to take pe- 
 cuniary compensation for the blood of his relative. But 
 the law of Moses was absolute : “ Ye shall take no satis- 
 faction for the life of a murderer.” J But the crime must 
 be clearly proved. It must be premeditated, as when one 
 lay in wait for his victim. The circumstances of the act 
 must establish beyond a question that it was a cool, delib- 
 erate murder. Thus the death must be caused by a 
 weapon, and not by a blow inflicted with the fist. And 
 
 * For the fullest account of the Cities of Refuge, see Numbers xxxv. 
 fEx. xxi. 14. t Numbers xxxv. 31, 33. 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 165 
 
 lest the accused should be hastily condemned, Moses 
 incorporated in his statutes that provision, which is 
 deemed one of the greatest securities of modern law, that 
 a man should not be convicted of a capital crime on the 
 testimony of a single witness.* 
 
 An additional barrier to a rash and unjust decision 
 was the severity with which the law punished perjury. 
 Whoever testified against another falsely, was liable to 
 the penalty of the very crime of which he had accused 
 his neighbor : “ Then shall ye do unto him, as he had 
 thought to have done unto his brother. And thine eye 
 shall not pity, but life shall go for life.” f With such a 
 retribution in prospect, few would attempt to swear away 
 the life of an enemy. If the accused were condemn- 
 ed to die, when brought to the place of execution, the 
 witnesses against him were required to throw the first 
 stones. The most hardened villain, who had carried a 
 brazen front through all the forms of trial, could hardly 
 support this crowning infamy of being the executioner of 
 an innocent man. He would tremble, and turn pale, and 
 the fatal stone would drop from his perjured hand. 
 
 Perhaps nothing shows more the spirit of a law than 
 the modes of execution for those who are to suffer its 
 extreme penalty. Some may tliinh, if a man is to die, it 
 matters little in what way he is put to death. But if it 
 affects not the fate of the criminal, it does matter as indi- 
 cating the spirit of a people. Barbarous nations generally 
 choose the most savage and cruel modes of punishment. 
 Modem refinement has introduced the scaffold and the 
 guillotine as the least revolting form of execution. 
 Soldiers who disobey orders, have the honor of being 
 shot, while vulgar criminals are hanged. 
 
 But it is not two hundred years since torture was 
 * Deut. xvii. 6. f Deut. xix. 16-20. 
 
166 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 laid aside by European nations. James the Second him- 
 self witnessed the wrenching of “ the boot,” as a favorite 
 diversion. The assassin who struck Henry the Fourth, 
 was torn limb from limb by horses, under the eye of 
 ladies of the Court. The Inquisition stretched its victims 
 on the rack. Other modes of execution, such as burning 
 alive, sawing asunder, and breaking on the wheel, were 
 common in Europe until a late period. The Turks 
 impaled men, or flayed them alive, and tied women in 
 sacks with serpents, and threw them into the Bospho- 
 rus. 
 
 Among the ancients, punishments were still more 
 excruciating. The Roman people, so famous for the 
 justice of their laws, inflicted the supreme agony of 
 crucifixion, in which the victim lingered dying for hours, 
 or even days. After the capture of Jerusalem, Titus 
 ordered two thousand Jews to be crucified ! How does 
 this act of the imperial Romans compare with the crimi- 
 nal law of “ a semi-savage race ” ? 
 
 Under the Hebrew code all these atrocities were 
 unknown. Moses prescribed but two modes of capital 
 punishment, the sword and stoning. The first was 
 inflicted by the avenger of blood, who, pursuing a mur- 
 derer, overtook him on the road, and instantly despatched 
 him. The assassin was not beheaded, but thrust through, 
 or despatched in any way. For a criminal who was tried 
 and condemned, the ordinary mode of execution was ston- 
 ing ; certainly the most simple, as it required no scaffold, 
 and no weapon but the stones of the desert, and which 
 must have caused death almost instantly. * If a criminal 
 had been a notorious offender, his body might be burned 
 
 * Later in the Jewish history more cruel forms of punishment were 
 introduced, such as easting headlong from a precipice, and exposure 
 to wild beasts. But for these Moses was not responsible. 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 167 
 
 after death, or hanged on a tree,* as a pirate is hung in 
 chains on a gibbet. Sometimes a heap of stones was 
 thrown over his grave, as over the grave of Absalom. 
 
 But while a wretch might be exposed to these posthu- 
 mous indignities, still, however enormous his crime, its 
 penalty stopped with himself. It was a first principle of 
 the law of Moses, that no child should suffer for a father’s 
 crime : a declaration unnecessary in our codes, since no 
 one thinks of punishing a murderer’s child, but very neces- 
 sary in the old Asiatic world, where high crimes were com- 
 monly avenged not only by the death of the criminal, but 
 by the extermination of his family. But the law of Moses 
 struck the head of the guilty, and there stopped. No son 
 or daughter was ruined : no hopeless attainder perpetu- 
 ated the curse to those unborn. 
 
 Still further : a ruler who delights in cruelty, will seek, 
 where he does not inlict death, at least to inflict last- 
 ing infamy. Despots have often regaled themselves with 
 putting out the eyes of malefactors, or of prisoners of war, 
 or with cutting off their arms or legs, or branding them 
 with a hot iron, so that they should cany a mark of degra- 
 dation to the grave. But of all this not a trace appears in 
 the laws of Moses. No torture, no branding, no infamous 
 punishment! Stripes were inflicted for petty offences. 
 But this punishment implied no lasting dishonor, as we 
 may be sure from the fact that it was often imposed on 
 the proud Roman soldiers for slight breaches of discip lin e. 
 Moses limited the number of stripes to forty, for the 
 express reason, that there should not attach to this chas- 
 tisement too great ignominy : “ If the wicked man be 
 worthy to be beaten, the judge shall cause him to lie 
 down, and to be beaten before his face, according to his 
 fault, by a certain number. Forty stripes he may give him, 
 * Deut. sxi. 22. 
 
168 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 and not exceed ; lest if lie should exceed, and beat him 
 above these with many stripes, then thy brother shall seem 
 vile unto thee.” * So scrupulous were the Jews in regard- 
 ing this prohibition, that they always stopped one short, 
 and inflicted forty stripes save one. In a single instance 
 only did the law allow maiming, and that was in case of 
 retaliation upon a criminal who had mutilated the body of 
 another. 
 
 That the law was not animated by a vindictive spirit, 
 appears from this very significant token — that it discour- 
 aged informers. Despotisms are always suspicious and 
 cruel. They send out spies to watch the people. They 
 bribe informers. But the Hebrew government was not 
 vexatious or inquisitorial. It did not harass the people. 
 Moses employed no secret police. He forbade the propa- 
 gating of malicious rumors : “ Thou shalt not go up and 
 down as a tale-bearer among thy people.” Informers were 
 not allowed to approach the authorities, except in cases of 
 idolatry or of unknown murder. 
 
 Such was the Criminal Law of the Hebrews — stern in- 
 deed, but not “ inhuman ” or unjust. Of course it will not 
 find favor with sentimental apologists for crime : for it was 
 not shorn of its terror by those easy pardons which take 
 away the dread of punishment, and almost the sense of 
 guilt. Moses believed in law, and that law was made to 
 be obeyed. No law-breaker found indulgence from him. 
 He punished disobedience with unsparing severity ; the 
 murderer and the blasphemer felt his iron hand. Yet 
 never was a lawgiver more gentle to the children of sor- 
 row, and “to all who are desolate and oppressed.” Never 
 did the awful form of justice seem bending with more 
 of compassion for human weakness and infirmity, and for 
 every grief and pain. 
 
 * Deut. xxv. 2, 3. 
 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 169 
 
 And is this the Law that was “ written in blood ” ? No, 
 not in blood, but in tears : for through the sternness of 
 the lawgiver is continually breaking the heart of the man. 
 Behind the coat-of-mail that covers the breast of the war- 
 rior, is sometimes found the heart of a woman. This union 
 of gentleness with strength is one of the most infallible 
 signs of a truly great nature : “ Out of the strong cometh 
 forth sweetness.” So was it with Moses : with a natural 
 delicacy and tenderness, made still more sensitive by his 
 own peculiar experience. His life had been one of many 
 trials, of loneliness and exile, and we can well believe that 
 the thoughtful provisions that appear even in the midst of 
 rigorous statutes, were the suggestions of his own sad 
 memories, the blessed fruit of sorrow. It is this mingling 
 of the tender and the terrible that gives to the Hebrew 
 Law a character so unique — a majesty that awes, with a gen- 
 tleness that savors more of parental affection than of sever- 
 ity. Crime and its punishment is not in itself a pleasing 
 subject to dwell on ; but when on this dark background is 
 thrown the light of such provisions for the poor and the 
 weak, the effect is like the glow of sunset on the red gran- 
 ite of the Sinai mountains. Even the peaks that were hard 
 and cold, look warm in the flood of sunlight which is pour- 
 ed over them all. 
 
 Thus uniting the character of the Supporter of Weak- 
 ness and Protector of Innocence, with that of the Punisher 
 of Crime, Moses appears almost as the divinity of his na- 
 tion — as not only the founder of the Hebrew state, but as 
 its guardian genius through all the periods of its history. 
 When he went up into Mount Nebo, and stretched out his 
 arm towards the Promised Land, which lay in full view on 
 the other side of the Jordan, he gave to that land the in- 
 estimable blessing of laws founded in eternal justice, and 
 not only laws founded in justice, but laws in which human- 
 
170 
 
 THE CRIMINAL LAW : 
 
 ity was embodied almost as mucb as in the precepts of re- 
 ligion. None were so poor and helpless but found shelter 
 under the protection of the great Lawgiver. The orphans 
 of many generations looked back to him as their father. 
 The widow in the vale of Sarepta blessed him. The blind 
 that groped by the pool of Bethesda had their way smooth- 
 ed by his command. The deaf that sat mute amid the 
 laughs of a joyous company, were safe from cruel sneers. 
 The slaves were grateful to him as their liberator, and all 
 classes of the wretched as having lightened the miseries of 
 their condition. 
 
 Nor was that Law given to the Israelites alone. It was 
 an inheritance for all ages and generations. That mighty 
 arm was to protect the oppressed so long as human gov- 
 ernments endure. Moses was the king of legislators, and 
 to the code which he left rulers of all times have turned 
 for instruction. Thence Alfred and Charlemagne derived 
 statutes for their realms. To that code turned alike the 
 Puritans under Cromwell, who founded the Commonwealth 
 of England, and the Pilgrim Fathers, who founded the 
 Commonwealths of New England. 
 
 “Whence had this man this wisdom,” surpassing all the 
 ancient sages ? Is it said : He was “ learned in all the 
 wisdom of the Egyptians,” and derived his laws from 
 them ? Yet he could not learn from them a wisdom they 
 did not possess. The framework of his government was 
 as unlike that of Egypt, as his role was unlike that of the 
 Pharaohs. Indeed the Hebrew state would seem to have 
 been constructed on the principle of being in all things 
 the opposite of the tyranny, the injustice, the inequality 
 and the oppression, which were the rule in every Oriental 
 state. The features which most command our admiration 
 are those of which there was absolutely no example. They 
 were wholly original, and must be ascribed to the genius 
 
WAS IT WRITTEN IN BLOOD ? 
 
 171 
 
 of Moses, if not to the inspiration of God. Hence they 
 who deny the Divine origin of the Hebrew Polity, bear 
 the highest testimony to the splendor of that intellect 
 which created it. If all was the product of one mind, it 
 is the most illustrious instance in history of the power of 
 a great spirit to impress itself on the race. The name of 
 Moses stands alone, as the greatest of antiquity, and the 
 Hebrew law remains as its most wonderful monument. 
 
 In harmony with the solitary grandeur of such a life, 
 was the manner of death — alone and on a mountain 
 top. Moses’ work was done. Through forty years of 
 desert wandering, he had led the children of Israel to the 
 borders of the Promised Land. Yet that land he was not 
 permitted to enter ; it was for others to reap the fruit of 
 his labor. He had nothing more to do but to die. For 
 this he went up into a mountain, from which he saw the 
 sun setting over the Western hills, and knew that the time 
 for his own sun to set, had come. There he died, and 
 “ no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.” 
 
 But what though his place of burial be unknown, his 
 “ sceptred spirit ” still rules kingdoms and nations that 
 were not born till centuries and millenniums after his dust 
 had mingled and been lost in the boundless soil of Asia. 
 “ His hue has gone out through all the earth, and his words 
 to the end of the world.” His laws have been translated 
 into all the languages of men, and their spirit and influ- 
 ence have affected the legislation of all civilized countries. 
 Thus the empire of the dead extends over the living, and 
 words spoken on the desert more than three thousand 
 years ago, which seemed to die away upon the hollow 
 wind, are caught up and passed on from age to age, and 
 from one hemisphere to another, by 
 
 “ Those airy tongues that syllable men’s names 
 On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.” 
 
CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 "We had been musing so long on the past that we bad 
 almost forgotten the present, when suddenly a stroke of 
 the Convent bell recalled us to our situation. Our time 
 at the foot of Sinai was drawing to a close. We must go 
 out once more upon the plain, and look upon the face 
 of the Mount that might be touched. “Yohanna, order 
 the camels ! ” We mounted, and rode out to survey again 
 the plain of Er Rahah ; and every time we turned and 
 looked upward, the impression was confirmed that the 
 height above us was indeed the Mount of God. Ap- 
 proaching still nearer, we drew up at its very foot, and 
 looked aloft at the tremendous cliffs which hung over us. 
 Perhaps some knowledge of this was in the mind of John 
 when in his vision of the Judgment he saw the guilty call- 
 ing upon the rocks and mountains to fall upon them, and 
 hide them from the face of Him that sitteth on the throne. 
 Following a course round the mountain in front, as we had 
 followed one on the other side to ascend Jebel Mousa, we 
 entered the Wady Leja, where are traces of ancient occu- 
 pation, for thither pilgrims came, and monks made their 
 abode, as early as the fourth century, and there in time 
 arose a monastery, which afterwards received the name of 
 the Forty Martyrs, because of the number of those who 
 fell in a massacre. 
 
 The region about Sinai is full of such historical associa- 
 tions, which give it an interest only second to that given by 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 173 
 
 tlie Mosaic narrative. The Convent itself, as an historic 
 pile, is more interesting than any ancient castle. It is per- 
 haps the oldest Convent in existence. Though founded 
 only in 555 by the Emperor Justinian, yet more than two 
 centuries before, the Empress Helena, the mother of Con- 
 stantine, had erected a chapel over the site of the Burning 
 Bush. At that early day pilgrims crossed the desert, and 
 monks built their cells in the rocks, and made the valley 
 resound with their anthems and their prayers. Where a 
 church was built, of course a fortress must be built beside it 
 for its protection. The bloody hand of Mahomet could 
 not always protect it against the tierce tribes of the Penin- 
 sula. The Convent has always been a post of danger, as it 
 was on the border-line between two religions — Islam and 
 Christianity — or rather, in the territory of the enemy, 
 where it stood as a solitary citadel of the faith. It has 
 often had to stand a siege, when nothing but its walls and 
 towers kejtt it from destruction. But if those were days of 
 peril without, they were days of prosperity within. Look- 
 ing round the interior of the Convent, I observed that it 
 was surrounded with a corridor on each story, upon which 
 the cells of the monks opened, and in those days there 
 were hundreds within its walls. Ah me ! how the glory of 
 the former dispensation has departed, when now there are 
 but little over a score to keep up its round of services, and 
 perpetuate the traditions of many generations. 
 
 As we came back to the Convent after our excursion, 
 it was no longer with the feeling we had the first day, 
 when we were strangers and pilgrims. We now felt that 
 we were coming home, for we had become quite domesti- 
 cated in the ancient monastery. The good monks had 
 done everything to make us comfortable. Beside our 
 rooms, they had given up to us the large receiriion-room 
 of the Convent, in which they left us undisturbed. They 
 
174 
 
 LIFE IX A CONTEXT. 
 
 never intruded upon us, appearing only when they came 
 at our call, hut were always ready to respond to any little 
 request we had to make, showing us through the Church, 
 the Chapel of the Burning Bush, and the Library. Of 
 course we did not accept this as a free gift.. When it 
 came to the settling, we paid as much as we should have 
 paid at the first hotel in Cairo. But no matter for that : 
 we were none the less glad that we could obtain such ac- 
 commodation at any price, and recorded our acknowledg- 
 ments in the Visitors’ Book, saying, as we could in all 
 sincerity, that we were “ most grateful for their kindness 
 and hospitality.” The privilege that we prized the most 
 was the use of the reception-room, where we could sit 
 all day, reading and writing, as if we were in our libra- 
 ries at home ; while we heard just enough of the life of 
 the Convent that went on around us to fill our ears with a 
 drowsy hum, and to fall in with our desire for undisturbed 
 repose. Towards evening we would go up on the roof 
 to watch the sunset as it touched the red tops of the 
 granite mountains, and to inhale the evening wind that 
 came up the valley. Miss Martineau, when she was here 
 some forty years ago, was struck with the wild, strange 
 beauty of this narrow pass — a beauty not unmingled with 
 terror, when she thought of what it must be at other sea- 
 sons of the year. She writes : “ How the place can be 
 endured in Summer, I cannot conceive. The elevation of 
 the whole region, it is true, is such that the season is more 
 backward than that of Cairo by two months ; but this ele- 
 vation can avail little to an abode placed in an abyss of 
 bare rocks. I was struck with this the first night, when I 
 went out into our corridor after ten o’clock to see the 
 moon come up between two peaks, her light being . already 
 bright on the western summits. Still and sweet as was tbe 
 scene — the air being hazy with moonlight in this rocky 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 175 
 
 basin — there was something oppressive in the nearness of 
 the precipices, and I could not but wonder what- state of 
 nerve one would be in during Summer and in seasons of 
 storm. The lightning must fill this space like a flood, and 
 the thunder must die hard among the echoes of these steep 
 barriers.” “ What must the reverberating thunder have 
 been among these precipices to the Hebrews, who [in 
 Egypt] had scarcely ever seen a cloud in the sky ! ” 
 
 This Convent life was not unpleasant, especially when 
 enlivened with social intercourse. Our friend, the Archi- 
 mandrite, was always ready to come into our rooms, and 
 have a chat over a cup of coffee. Dr. Post had removed 
 a sty from one of his eyes, for which he was very grateful, 
 expressing the utmost satisfaction at the relief he had ob- 
 tained, “grace a Dieu et a monsieur le docteur.” I had 
 half a suspicion (confirmed by what I learned afterwards) 
 that he was in exile for some ecclesiastical offence, perhaps 
 heresy or insubordination to his superiors. He had not 
 been long in the desert ; he had lived in cities, and seemed 
 to like to talk of the world he had left behind. There 
 was an old Archbishop of Gaza, perhaps in exile too, but 
 who certainly bore his expatriation with remarkable seren- 
 ity, for never was a prelate more smiling and benignant. 
 He looked as if he were overflowing with goodness, and 
 always ready to pronounce a benediction. 
 
 With the rest of the brethren we had just enough ac- 
 quaintance to make our intercourse pleasant. We came 
 to know them, and they to know us, and when we met in 
 the court or on the corridors, they gave us a kindly recog- 
 nition, and seemed pleased with the sight of strange human 
 faces. There are now twenty-four members, who form a 
 community entirely among themselves, being quite apart 
 from the rest of the world. Some of them have been here 
 thirty or forty years, perhaps not once in all that time leav- 
 
176 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 ing these mountains. Indeed I was told that several of 
 them had not been outside the Convent in twenty years. 
 All the affairs of the household are managed by them- 
 selves. Some of the menial offices are performed by Arab 
 servants, but every species of handicraft is wrought by the 
 monks. Dr. Post, who had the case for his plants broken, 
 found here a very good tinsmith. Any one whose gar- 
 ments are torn, or whose shoes are worn out i user ambling 
 over the rocks, may find a tailor and a cobbler to patch 
 them up again. 
 
 But all this is apart from, and subordinate to, their one 
 great vocation, which is to pray. They tinker a little and 
 cobble a little, but they pray a great deal. Their lives are 
 spent in prayer. Seven hours out of the twenty-four are 
 given to devotion. Several times in the day we hear a 
 stroke, as with a hammer, on a nalcus [a bent iron bar] — 
 a sound which, like the voice of the muezzin from the min- 
 aret, calls the faithful to prayer. The reception-room is 
 near the chajjel, so that the voices of the monks come to 
 us distinctly through the open windows ; and we should 
 be dull indeed if we could sit unmoved at the chanting of 
 the songs of the ages, and of prayers which in different 
 tongues are repeated in all the communions of Christen- 
 dom. Nor are these hours of devotion confined to the 
 day-time : fully one-half are taken from the night. At 
 three o’clock in the morning the bell of the church awakes 
 every sleeper in the Convent. It is now Lent, and there 
 are more hours of prayer and special services, which are 
 always open to strangers. To one of these, on Sunday 
 morning, I was particularly invited, and was quite dis- 
 posed to accept ; although, to confess the truth, the ser- 
 vice was a little early and a trifle late, commencing an hour 
 after midnight, and ending at seven o’clock ! In such a 
 case I did as many do : I came late and went early — that 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 177 
 
 is, I rose at four, and retired at five — one hour instead of sis ! 
 But what a strange, unearthly, ghostly hour it was ! The 
 idea of such a service had taken hold of my imagination. 
 At first nothing could seem more akin to the highest spirit 
 of devotion. To pray in the hours of darkness and of 
 night! So Jesus prayed while men slept. And when I 
 came out on the balcony, and felt at once all the holy still- 
 ness of the night, through which the waning moon was 
 shining, and the stars were looking down from that pure 
 sky of Arabia, “ so wildly, spiritually bright,” it seemed 
 indeed as if this were an hour to forget the world, and 
 draw nigh to God ; to think how soon our little day of life 
 would be past, and we “should be no more seen.” I de- 
 scended the stairs, crossed the court, and went down the 
 stone steps (the pavement of the church is below the level 
 of the court), and entered the church. It was dimly light- 
 ed. All the monks were there. One, who had been look- 
 ing for me, conducted me to one of the stalls reserved for 
 the brethren, where I was in the centre of the line. Oppo- 
 site me a priest was standing at a desk, with his book open 
 before him, on which fell the light from a shaded lamp sus- 
 pended over it, and out of which he was reading, or rather 
 chanting, in a dreary monotone, to which a younger priest 
 beside me occasionally responded. The service was in 
 Greek, and contained many things which would be ap- 
 proved by Christians of all communions. They read the 
 Epistles and the Gospels, the Lord’s Prayer and the Apos- 
 tles’ Creed ; they chanted the Psalms of David and the 
 Te Deum of Ambrose. All this was excellent, nor could 
 anything be more impressive (were it accompanied by a 
 little of the appearance of devotion) than the prayers of 
 Chrysostom and Basil, mingled with the old majestic 
 strains of John of Damascus. 
 
 Suddenly there came a change in the scene : all the 
 
178 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 bells in the church-tower (there are nine of them — a full 
 chime) began to ring, not to call the monks, for they 
 were already there, but as if to summon the spirits of the 
 dead, or angels hovering in the air, to bend lower to wit- 
 ness the grand ceremony of the prostration before the 
 cross. The curtain which screened the inner sanctuary 
 was drawn aside, and the priest emerged in gorgeous 
 robes, supported or followed by others with lighted can- 
 dles, bearing on a salver raised above his head a cruci- 
 fix surrounded with flowers, which was placed on a low 
 stand in the centre of the nave, around which the monks 
 circled three times, and to which they made repeated 
 prostrations. What degree of heart-worship there may 
 have been in this, I cannot tell ; but to me it looked only 
 like a sacred pantomime. 
 
 As I sat amid such strange surroundings, I almost lost 
 my personal identity. Who was I, to be here at this hour 
 of night in a monastery, sitting in a monk’s chair, and 
 listening to these mournful chantings— these prayers for 
 the living and the dead ? I was already far gone into the 
 region of shades, and it seemed doubtful if I should ever 
 return to the living world again, if I had not escaped to 
 the upper air, where, in the silence and peace of the night, 
 finding that the world was still unchanged, that the stars 
 were still above me, and the mountains round about me, I 
 recovered consciousness, and my soul entered again into 
 the body. But it is hard to shake off the feeling of unnat- 
 uralness which has taken possession of me. I feel as if I 
 were in a dream : I see men as trees walking. Every nook 
 and comer of this old, rambling Convent-Castle is haunted 
 by the spirits of the dead. The place is full of ghosts. I 
 hear them at night when the winds howl and moan amid 
 the creaking timbers, and sigh along the walls, and die 
 away through the passes of the mountains. It seems as 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 179 
 
 if whole generations of monks were coming back to haunt 
 the abodes once familiar to them. Hark ! what was that 
 piercing sound? Was it the wind, or was it the shriek of 
 some wretched monk who passed from life unrepentant 
 and unforgiven, and who now has come back after an age 
 of suffering in Purgatory to say a Midnight Mass for his 
 despairing soul ? 
 
 But if the question be whether this round of religious 
 exercises has any very important influence in making men 
 spiritually better, a candid observer must shake his head. 
 At first one who listens in a musing mood to these mid- 
 night devotions, would think that out of such vigils and 
 prayers must spring the consummate flower of piety ; 
 that these men, who are so holy that they cannot live 
 with their fellows, but dwell apart, must be better than 
 others ; that all their conversation must be in heaven, 
 and their lives be spent in deeds of charity. 
 
 But let us see. I observed the next morning that there 
 was a strange silence in the Convent. Having taken the 
 night to pray, they took the day to sleep. These hours of 
 prayer were not then so much added to the usual times 
 for devotion, but only night turned into day that day 
 might be turned into night. Was there in this any spir- 
 itual gain ? 
 
 As to the pretensions of superior sanctity, any such 
 impression is quickly dispelled. It is enough to look in 
 the faces of these men to see that they are, with scarce 
 an exception, of a low stamp. They are very ignorant. 
 The Archimandrite tells me there is not a really learned 
 man among them. One or two I have seen walking in the 
 avenues of the garden who had a scholarly look, but the 
 mass of them are utterly without education. Three or 
 four can neither read nor write. 
 
 But how can such men find admission into a religious 
 
180 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 order? This question is answered by considering how 
 these communities are formed. Men do not always join 
 them from religious motives. Many enter a monastery as 
 a refuge from poverty. In the Greek Church some of 
 the barefooted orders are replenished as the Shakers are 
 replenished in America, by recruits taken out of the poor- 
 house. Some of the brethren here are not a whit above 
 men who could be picked out of any decent almshouse. 
 I do not see really bad faces, but they are common and 
 coarse — faces with which one cannot associate any idea of 
 spirituality. One or two of the younger ones look as if 
 they were half-witted. These join the Convent, not from 
 any religious impulse or inspiration, but as a security 
 against want. They enter as laics, and are put to do 
 menial offices. Some are mere scullions : they wash the 
 dishes, they clean the lamps : and if, after four or five 
 years, they are approved, they are received as full mem- 
 bers of the order. Their priestly functions may depend 
 on something else than learning or piety. One of the 
 novitiates, hearing that Dr. Post was a physician, came 
 to him for medicine to make his hair grow, for he said he 
 could not celebrate the mass till he had a beard ! He is 
 now twenty-one, and his beard is but downy. The Doc- 
 tor, who was much amused at the request, advised him to 
 send to Suez or Cairo for a bottle of Mrs. Allen’s Hair Re- 
 storer ! This is a new qualification for a monk on Mount 
 Sinai ! 
 
 But there is something worse than ignorance. They 
 are either the most credulous or the most untruthful of 
 human beings : for they are the propagators of the gross- 
 est superstitions. Never were there such gross absurdities 
 as those which they gravely repeat as facts of sacred his- 
 tory. Near the foot of Ras Sufsafeh is a granite boulder, 
 which being, as an Irishman would say, “ quite convan- 
 
LIFE IN A CONTENT. 
 
 181 
 
 yint,” is declared to be the one on which Moses broke the 
 tables of stone when he came down from the Mount! 
 Another rock is pointed out as the mould in which Aaron 
 cast the golden calf ! The Burning Bush Dr. Post finds to 
 be a species of blackberry. If this be not gross imposture, 
 it is childish credulity. But a man may be very ignorant, 
 and even superstitious, and yet from daily communion 
 with spiritual things, may grow into a higher life, which 
 shall show itself in his very countenance. Not a trace of 
 this does one see here. There is no such process of 
 gradual elevation. There is neither natural refinement 
 nor that spirituality which comes from converse with 
 sacred things. Let a monk remain here forty years, and 
 he that was vulgar is vulgar still, and he that was filthy is 
 filthy still 
 
 Nor is their life one of self-denial. Of course they 
 submit to the prescribed fasts of the Church. It is now 
 Lent, when the fasts, as well as the vigils, are kept rigor- 
 ously. They will not touch a particle of animal food, but 
 they will drink to excess. Almost the only industry which 
 is pursued here, is making a kind of brandy out of the 
 dates of the palm tree ; and this not being prohibited, 
 they use freely. We often see them the worse for liquor. 
 Several of them who have been about the mountains with 
 us as guides, before the day w T as over have been in a state 
 of intoxication. It takes away from the merit of fasts 
 when it leads to this. If they took a little more of simple, 
 nourishing food, they would not drink so much brandy. 
 Of course I am not particularly edified when I see these 
 same old codgers standing in their places in the church, 
 intoning their prayers ! 
 
 But the gravest charge which I have to bring against 
 the monks, is their utter indifference to the poor Bed- 
 aween by whom they are surrounded. To these Arabs 
 
182 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 they bear a peculiar relation. When Justinian founded 
 this monastery, he endowed it with two hundred slaves, 
 to be, with their descendants, its servants forever— its 
 hewers of wood and drawers of water. The descendants 
 of those slaves are here to-day, and so kindly and wisely 
 and religiously have they been treated by their Christian 
 masters, that they have all turned Moslems ! Nor do I 
 wonder. The holy fathers treat them like beasts of 
 burden — their camels or their asses. They dole out to 
 them lumps of bread hard as a stone, such as one would 
 hardly give to a camel. In the cell of one of the monks I 
 observed a rawhide hanging on the wall. One of our party 
 whispered that this was used by the poor man for self- 
 flagellation. O dear, the holy man, thus to do penance for 
 his sins ! But a little inquiry drew out the fact that it was 
 intended for no such spiritual office. Indeed the monk 
 himself was much amused at the suggestion of his doing 
 penance, and laughed heartily as he indicated by word 
 and gesture that he kept it to flog the Arabs ! 
 
 It goes to my heart to wander about these sacred 
 mountains, and see the poverty and wretchedness of the 
 people. The places they live in are not fit for cattle, nor 
 is the food they eat, when they get any, which is not 
 always the case. Dr. Post asked a little fellow what he 
 ate. He answered by naming the poorest and coarsest 
 food. “ Well, if you don’t have any food ? ” He answered 
 with a shrug, drawing his poor tattered clout over his 
 shoulders, that “ he sat down on the ground and bore it, 
 till God should send some ” ! The American party of 
 which I have spoken were greatly captivated by the 
 beauty of a little fellow (Mousa) with black eyes and 
 graceful form and pretty manners. Coming down from 
 the mountains, we met his mother (veiled of course), and 
 saw where she lived. Her only house was a rock which 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 183 
 
 projected a few feet, under which she found shelter. 
 A little fire of camel’s offal sent up a smoke which black- 
 ened the stone above. A couple of goats were lying here 
 as a part of the family. Can human beings live in such a 
 cave ? And yet this was their home ; and hundreds of 
 such there are, into not one of which does this rich Con- 
 vent, with all its monks, who pray seven hours a day, cast 
 one ray of sunshine or of hope. 
 
 The moral of all this is that a life of entire separation 
 from the world, and seclusion in a Convent, is not the way 
 to serve God, or to do good to men. A life more vacant 
 of all high purpose, or of practical usefulness, I cannot 
 conceive of ; and when I went into the charnel-house, 
 where are piled up the bones of whole generations, with 
 a ghastly array of skulls, I felt that I saw before me the 
 mouldering relics of so many wasted lives. Has this 
 ancient Convent done anything to justify its establish- 
 ment? One service indeed it has rendered to Chris- 
 tendom, in the preservation of the Sinaitic Manuscript, 
 the oldest copy of the Scriptures in existence. But for 
 its influence on the population around it, what has it 
 done ? It has stood here for thirteen hundred years, and 
 what fruit can it show ? It is rich : it has possessions in 
 Austria and Bessarabia, and is under the special protection 
 and patronage of Kussia. But where are its missions? 
 Where are its charities ? Has it done anything to convert 
 these tribes ? The best answer to the question is the fact 
 that after thirteen centuries it contains within its walls the 
 only Christian church in all Arabia. As for its charities, 
 it has had thousands of Arabs within its reach and under 
 its authority, and yet it has left them as degraded and 
 barbarous as before. Such is the testimony of history, 
 which carries with it the severest condemnation. If the 
 Convent at Mount Sinai is to be kept up for the same 
 
184 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 purpose as tlie hospice of the Simplon, or that of the Great 
 St. Bernard, as a refuge for travellers, that is another 
 matter. To the devotion thus displayed I would pay the 
 highest respect. Never did I feel more reverence for any 
 men than for the monks under whose roof I once found 
 shelter on the Pass of the Simplon. If there were the 
 same spirit of self-sacrifice at Sinai as on the Alps, it 
 would be counted worthy of the same honor. Certainly 
 now r here in the world is such a place of refuge more 
 needed than among these mountains and deserts. But 
 that is quite a different thing from claiming that the 
 Convent which we now find here is an abode of saints, 
 a place of such sacredness that to make a pilgrimage to 
 it is an act of religious merit, and to live in it is to be in 
 the straight and narrow path to heaven. 
 
 If I had any secret fondness for the monastic life, a few 
 days in a monastery would be quite sufficient to disen- 
 chant me. I feel no temptation to turn monk : the Con- 
 vent cell would be a prison cell. Indeed a sentence to such 
 a life would be like a sentence to death. The very thought 
 makes me shudder, as if I were descending into a tomb, 
 on which a heavy lid of blackest marble were shutting 
 down upon me. It seems as if one could be driven to thia 
 life only by the direst necessity, or by superstitious fear. 
 It is said that Archbishop Hughes was once conversing 
 with some Protestant clergymen in regard to the doctrine 
 of Purgatory, when, after hearing their objections, he 
 ended the discussion by saying “ Well, gentlemen, you 
 ' might go farther and fare worse.” This was Irish wit, if it 
 was not argument. Certainly it would require the most 
 lurid prospect of “ faring worse ” to reconcile me to the 
 purgatory of being buried alive in a monk’s cell ! 
 
 And yet I do not like to part from our companions in 
 the Convent with words of censure. Indeed I feel more 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 185 
 
 inclined to pity than to harshness. Poor old creatures ! 
 they do not know any better. At least they have been kind 
 to us. We were strangers, and they took us in. We had 
 spent a few days together in perfect friendliness, and now 
 felt a little grieved that we should see their grizzled locks 
 no more ; though we were amused to the last by slight 
 tokens that they were not quite above some touch of 
 human infirmity. The morning that we were to leave, we 
 were up very early, when, as I threw open the door, I saw 
 the Econome, or business manager, with whom we had 
 had most to do, walking up and down the corridor. It 
 was early for the good man to be astir. But he had heard 
 that the Howadjis were to leave, and he could not have 
 them depart without a tender farewell. It were base to 
 indulge a suspicion that his early appearance had anything 
 to do with the napoleon that was presently slipped into 
 his hand. But that certainly did not abate the fervor of 
 his demonstrations. He was not only friendly, but affec- 
 tionate. He could not leave me out of his sight ; he clung 
 to me like a brother. He joked and laughed with me ; he 
 clapped me on the back. 
 
 The only place in the Convent which we had not yet 
 explored, was the refectory, where the monks take their 
 meals. On our expressing a desire to see it, he led the 
 way. It is in a far corner of the Convent, in a hall, 
 which, with its floor of stone and high arched roof, might 
 have been a chapel, and indeed has an altar in it, and a 
 small pulpit, or reading-desk, from which one of the 
 brethren reads while the rest partake of their meagre 
 repast. The table did not look attractive. The only food 
 was hard bread, with soup of vegetables served in tin 
 saucers, regular state’s-prison fare ; in fact, it was worse 
 than is served to the convicts in any penitentiary in Amer- 
 ica. During Lent they have but one meal a day, and at 
 
186 
 
 LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 no time do they take meat of any kind, not even a chicken 
 or an egg. We went into the kitchen, where a large pot 
 of lentils was boiling, apparently their only dish. This 
 was the very food for which Esau, hungered. I had asked 
 the good brother playfully, if he would receive me as a 
 member of the order ? But after seeing this, I thought it 
 would hardly be worth while to sell my birthright of free- 
 dom for such a mess of pottage. 
 
 As a contrast to this, he took us to the Bishop’s room, 
 which was quite grand. Attached to it is a private chapel, 
 which contains a number of small paintings, mostly of 
 saints. But one represented a ladder reaching to heaven, 
 up which monks in great number were pressing their way 
 to where Father Abraham, or the Heavenly Father (for 
 they do not scruple to represent the Supreme Being), with 
 outstretched arms, was waiting for them. Unfortunately 
 some had not strength for the ascent, and were falling off 
 into the reach of devils, who, armed with long forks, like 
 Neptune’s trident, stood ready to spear the wretches, and 
 toss them over to the place of burning. This was designed 
 to be a terror to delinquent monks ; but the jolly Econome 
 seemed not to mind it, but made himself merry over the 
 picture. Evidently the fear of future retribution did not 
 sit heavy on his soul. 
 
 Meanwhile busy preparations were going on for our 
 departure. I had heard the sound thereof from an early 
 hour. As I had looked out of a porthole, I saw a proces- 
 sion of camels at the gate, even before it was opened ; and 
 when we descended to the yard, there were lying on the 
 ground camels enough to furnish a caravan. It appeared 
 that, as the supply was greater than the demand, there was 
 a lively competition for the honor of bearing our sacred 
 persons. It is said that there are four families in the val- 
 ley who do the carrying trade, and as there is not work 
 
LIFE IN A CONVENT. 
 
 187 
 
 enough for all, each claims a share. We left it to the 
 sheikh and the dragoman to settle it between them. At 
 length all was arranged. Our friend, the Econome, came 
 down into the yard to see us mount, giving us each a little 
 cup of manna as a token of his regard ; the Archiman- 
 drite was there also to bid us farewell ; while the Arch- 
 bishop of Gaza, taking his morning walk on the roof, 
 looked down benignantly, and wished us a pleasant jour- 
 ney. Then at the word of command the camels rose up 
 with their burdens, and amid a general waving of hands 
 and mutual good wishes, we filed slowly out of the arched 
 gate of the Convent of Mount Sinai, and turned our faces 
 towards Jerusalem. 
 
 h 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 LEAVING SINAI PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 When one has made the pilgrimage to Mount Sinai, 
 there follows the practical question, how to get hack again. 
 Travellers generally return direct to Suez, which is at 
 once the nearest, the easiest, and the safest route. The 
 distance from the Wells of Moses, where we took our 
 camels, to the Convent, is one hundred and fifty-three 
 miles, which can he passed over hy vigorous marching in 
 six days. But that is excellent travelling on the desert. 
 A camel’s pace does not commonly exceed two and a half 
 miles an hour (one that can go three miles is a very brisk 
 stepper), so that it requires ten hours on a camel’s hack 
 to make twenty-five miles. But once at Suez, the slow 
 moving and the hardship are all over. The traveller is 
 within “ striking distance ” of any point he may wish to 
 reach. He touches hoth the railroad and the telegraph, 
 and is thus within the limits of civilization. He can 
 return in a few hours to Cairo or Alexandria ; or if hound 
 to the Holy Land, can leave the railroad at Ismailia, and 
 take a hoat down the Suez Canal to Port Said, from which 
 a night’s sail will land him at Jaffa. 
 
 But it is not always the shortest route which is the 
 most attractive to tourists. Having reached Sinai, we 
 were not at all inclined to retrace our steps, and traverse 
 the same wadies and the same wastes of sand as before. 
 We preferred to take a longer way round, which, though 
 
LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 189 
 
 it might prove rougher and more fatiguing, should still 
 have the attraction of novelty. 
 
 Our first plan had been to go to Akaba, at the head of 
 the Gulf of that name, a six days’ march, and from there 
 to Petra, four days, and from Petra to Hebron, or Gaza, 
 six days — twenty in all, which, with four days at Petra, 
 and four days of Sabbath rest, would make just four weeks. 
 This route would take us to a point of great interest in 
 the journeyings of the Israelites, Mount Hor, on which 
 Aaron died. Petra too has in its rock-temples attractions 
 well known to travellers. The only drawback to the 
 pleasure of such a trip, is that this ancient city and the 
 region about it are held by some of the worst Bedaween 
 in all the East. Petra has long been notorious for its 
 fierce and turbulent tribes, who demand enormous back- 
 sheesh from strangers who would pass through then- 
 country. Mr. Cook told me in Cairo that he had paid a 
 hundred and fifty pounds to get a party through ; that of 
 late all expeditions that had been planning to go that way, 
 had been broken up ; and that he had declined to take 
 the responsibility of sending any more. There were 
 stories of travellers being taken prisoners, and held for 
 ransom. At Sinai it was said, that even if we were to 
 enter Petra, we might not be allowed to stay there — a pre- 
 sumption that was confirmed by the experience of a Ger- 
 man gentleman and his wife, who left Sinai a few days 
 before us. They set out boldly for Petra, and reached it, 
 but were only allowed to remain over night, being driven 
 out the next morning, glad to escape without the loss of 
 all they carried with them, if they had not suffered also 
 the loss of life. Even could we reach Petra, and be 
 allowed to remain long enough to see it, we were told 
 that it was doubtful if we could pass beyond it, for that 
 the region between Petra and Hebron was held by tribes 
 
190 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 who were in deadly hostility, between whom there was a 
 blood-feud, which found vent in constant fighting. Of 
 course it would be the height of imprudence to venture 
 between such combatants. In that case we should be 
 obliged to return to Akaba, and then march four days 
 across the desert to Nukhl to strike another “ trail.” All 
 this would involve a loss, in going to Petra and returning 
 to Akaba, and diverging to the direct route, of a couple of 
 weeks time (it might involve much more if we were for- 
 cibly detained), which we had not to spare, as we wished to 
 be in Jerusalem at the Holy Week. These considerations 
 finally decided us, very reluctantly, to give up Petra. 
 
 After all this, was it not provoking that our friends of 
 the other American party, who left Sinai the same morn- 
 ing, did go to Petra, and remain there three days, and did 
 not have to return to Akaba, but went on direct to IXebron, 
 and arrived in Jerusalem only a week or ten days after 
 us? However, when they told us the story of their 
 experience, our envy was subdued. They got through 
 by the skin of their teeth, and this owing to the fact that 
 they had a dragoman who was a Moslem from Alexandria 
 (ours was a Syrian from Beirut), who had a personal 
 acquaintance with the sheikh at Petra, to whom he had 
 once rendered some service (I believe he had saved his 
 life), and by whose favor he secured protection. Before 
 starting, he told me privately that he thought it a rash 
 venture, but hoped he could get his party through. He 
 did get them through, but at the price of such extortions 
 and annoyances that we were not at all sorry not to have 
 followed their example. Had it not been for the drago- 
 man’s personal acquaintance with the sheikh, who stood 
 guard with him over the tents, they would have been 
 utterly “ cleaned out.” All the time they were there, they 
 were surrounded, not only from morning to evening, but 
 
PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 191 
 
 all night long, by insatiable Bedaween, incessantly demand- 
 ing backsheesh, and ready to steal if the guard were 
 relaxed a moment. A villain would come into one of the 
 tents, and sit down on a trunk, and then demand back- 
 sheesh to get off ! Another thrust a paper into the hand 
 of one of the party, who took it, thinking the Arab might 
 be offended at its refusal, when the rascal went off, but 
 returned and demanded in a threatening manner ten 
 pounds for the precious document! These little atten- 
 tions of course made Petra a delightful retreat for a few 
 days, even if one could not have it as a permanent resi- 
 dence. The dragoman told me in Jerusalem that he had 
 to pay over a hundred pounds to get clear of the place ! 
 When they finally took their* departure, they were followed 
 by a last proof of attachment, in finding a Bedawee 
 stationed on a hillside behind a tree, armed with a shot- 
 gun, with which he threatened to fire upon them if they 
 did not pay some preposterous demand! To this they 
 answered, not with money, but with powder and ball. 
 After an exchange of shots, they charged upon him, and 
 dragged him down, and finally left him tied hand and foot, 
 and half dead, by the roadside. These things are more 
 exciting to hear of than agreeable to experience, and after 
 listening to their tale, we were quite willing that our 
 friends should have all the glory, as they had all the 
 annoyances, of such an expedition. 
 
 But between this difficult if not dangerous route by 
 Petra, and going back directly on our path, there was 
 a middle course, which would follow half way a return 
 route to Suez — parallel to that by which we came, but 
 farther away from the sea — and then strike off into the 
 Great and Terrible Wilderness, passing midway between 
 the Gulfs of Suez and Akaba, and crossing the great 
 Desert of the Wandering, by which we should come up 
 
192 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 through, the Plain of Philistia, and enter Palestine by the 
 South Country, coming out at Hebron, or Gaza. This 
 route would be entirely new, and in the latter part of 
 it, at least, would have a spice of danger which would 
 be an agreeable excitement. This decided our wavering 
 choice. 
 
 With such a route marked out on the map, as we left 
 Sinai we picked our way over the ledge of rocks which 
 lies along the garden of the Convent, and rode down the 
 narrow pass of the Wady ed Deir, keeping an eye on the 
 cliffs which towered on the left. As we came near their 
 base, we passed the camp of the other American party, 
 whose camels were being made ready for their long 
 march. We had now before us the plain of Er Eahah, 
 but we were not to cross it again, nor to climb that fear- 
 ful Pass of the Winds, but bore away to the right, passing 
 the hillock on which Aaron set up the Golden Calf ! A 
 more authentic spot is the tomb of a Moslem saint, who 
 was a contemporary of the Prophet himself, and whose 
 virtues are celebrated in the Koran. Here the Bedaween 
 of Sinai gather in great numbers at a festival every year, 
 which they celebrate with sacrifices and feasting and 
 camel-races, and other sports of the desert. At this point 
 we parted from our friends, not to see them again till we 
 met in Jerusalem. They kept to the east, while we fol- 
 lowed the wady which circled round the base of the 
 mountains. All this time we had been in sight of Eas 
 Sufsafeh, and we could hardly go half a mile without 
 turning our camels to take one more look. Thus we 
 slowly retired from this mountain presence, half shrink- 
 ing from it with awe, while yet it held us by the fas- 
 cination of its sublimity. At length there came a bend 
 in our course, and we lingered long before we could 
 withdraw our gaze. We were to see Sinai again from 
 
PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 ID 3 
 
 more distant points ; but this nearer sight we could have 
 no more. 
 
 We were now in the Wady es Sheikh, which may almost 
 be called the Amazon of the river system which winds 
 about in this wilderness of mountains. It seems to be a 
 misnomer to speak of a river without water, but the river 
 is not always thus dried up. There are seasons when the 
 dry bed becomes a torrent. The Peninsula of Sinai is vis- 
 ited at times by terrific storms, producing a sudden del- 
 uge, in which the barren wadies become the channels of 
 great streams, and these mountain-sides are the rocky 
 shores of foaming rivers. 
 
 But for the present we have no water — only the 
 mountains. But these are so grand that we arc never 
 weary of observing their giant masses, their varied forms, 
 and the marvellous richness of their coloring. There is 
 a certain fitness in Mount Sinai being a solid mass of 
 granite : that the oldest and most enduring of rocks 
 should furnish the throne for the announcement of a 
 Law which, in its essential principles of justice, dates 
 from the foundation of the earth, and will endure to all 
 generations. 
 
 We have now before us objects which are older than 
 Moses. He lived over three thousand years ago ; these 
 mountains have been standing, the geologists wall tell us, 
 three millions ! Whether they are right in their calcula- 
 tions or not, certainly for the data of the geological prob- 
 lem, it would be impossible to find a more interesting re- 
 gion. It presents peculiar facilities for study, in the fact 
 that the rocks are all uncovered. These mountains have 
 been stripped of their masses of vegetation ; they have no 
 such dense forests as those which cover the lower sides of 
 the Swiss Alps. Here the rock-ribbed hills are all ex- 
 posed, as if they would tell the story of their origin, and 
 
194 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 of an existence which, to beings whose lives are short as 
 ours, seems like eternity itself. 
 
 The mere sight of these great formations raises a ques- 
 tion even in the most unscientific mincl as to the harmony 
 of the record contained in the rocks with the Mosaic chro- 
 nology. One thing all must admit, that the world is more 
 than six thousand years old, and that the six periods of 
 creation could not have been six days of twenty-four hours, 
 but six successive epochs, during which the earth under- 
 went great geological changes. No one who looks up at 
 these giant cliffs, which the torrents have cleft asunder, 
 can resist the impression of enormous lapses of time. 
 These wadies have been produced by the action of water. 
 As the Niagara river has worn its way back inch by inch 
 from Lake Ontario, 
 
 “ Notching its centuries in the eternal rocks,” 
 so here the forces of rain and storm and flood have tom 
 their way through the everlasting hills. But what ages 
 upon ages must have been required for all this ! What 
 cycles of time, measured not by years, must have passed, 
 what millions of tempests must have poured from the 
 angry heavens, and what millions of floods must have 
 rushed along the sides of these mountains, to wear a chan- 
 nel miles in length through the solid granite ! 
 
 But the admission of this does not overturn the cos- 
 mogony of Moses.’ By no means. It merely shows us 
 that the words of the Bible have a grander meaning than 
 we in our ignorance had dreamed. We need only to en- 
 large our interpretations to the vast proportions of the 
 revelation which we are trying to understand. Now we 
 see through a glass darkly ; by-and-by we may see that 
 the universe itself is the grandest temple of the Almighty. 
 
 Whether the Mosaic account of the Creation agrees in 
 all points with the discoveries of geology, is a question on 
 
PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 195 
 
 which men of science are the most competent to give an 
 opinion. Some assume that there is an absolute contra- 
 diction, which no ingenuity can reconcile. There is no 
 objection to the first chapter of Genesis which is more 
 often urged, or with greater assurance, than that from 
 geology. Some are so confident that this argument can- 
 not be answered, that they are willing to stake their own 
 unbelief upon it. Says Ingersoll : “ If it shall turn out 
 that Moses knew more about geology than Humboldt, 
 then I will admit that infidelity must become speechless 
 forever.” Humboldt is certainly a great name to quote 
 in controversy, though perhaps his greatness was more 
 in his general survey of the vast realm of science, than 
 in his complete mastery of any one department. If, 
 instead of sweeping round the whole horizon of the 
 Kosmos, we limit ourselves to the one point in hand, we 
 may perhaps assume, without trespassing on the strict 
 line of modesty, that we have in America a man who, 
 in this special department of geology, is the equal of 
 Humboldt, Germans themselves being judges — Professor 
 James D. Dana of Yale College. “When I was in Ger- 
 many,” said one of the Faculty of Columbia College, 
 who is himself well known abroad, “all the men of sci- 
 ence whom I met asked me about ‘that wonderfid Dan-na’ 
 (pronouncing his name as if spelled with two ns ), whom 
 they regarded as the first scientific man in America, and 
 as, in certain departments, second to no man living.” This 
 American professor, who is as modest as he is truly great, 
 has devoted a large portion of his life, and he is now 
 nearly seventy years old, to the special study of geology, 
 and in this department he is the highest living authority, 
 a place that would be conceded to him nowhere more 
 fully than in the land of Humboldt. Yet it is he who 
 writes : “ To me the first chapter of Genesis is greatly 
 
196 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 illumined by the revelations "which science has made. I 
 see nothing in modern developments to shake my faith 
 in its inspired announcements, or in any of the essential 
 truths taught in the Bible.” 
 
 In this testimony other eminent geologists fully con- 
 cur. Some "who have made a study of the first chapter of 
 Genesis in the light of science, find that if there are 
 apparent divergences, there are also striking coinci- 
 dences, particularly in the order of succession of animal 
 and vegetable life. So marked is this, that some men of 
 science, "who are also devout believers in Revelation, such 
 as Hugh Miller and Principal Dawson, have stoutly main- 
 tained that they are in perfect harmony, and that geol- 
 ogy furnishes the strongest confirmation of the truth of 
 the Mosaic narrative. Whether they are correct in this, 
 or whether, on the other hand, the reconciliation of Sci- 
 ence and Revelation may not require us to modify at 
 some points our interpretation of Scripture, time may 
 render clearer than it is now. A sincere lover of truth 
 will accept light from every source, not only willingly, but 
 gratefully. It is a poor tribute to the Bible to fear that 
 the progress of knowledge will shake its authority. I 
 believe too firmly in Moses to have any apprehension lest 
 modern science should push him from his throne. Let 
 the explorers and the discoverers carry their researches 
 as far as they will (God speed them in their work !) : they 
 do but bring fresh materials wherewith to construct the 
 temple of truth. If we do not at first see how the old 
 and the new can be joined together — how they are but 
 parts of one great system — it is because we see only from 
 a few points and angles. Let us but rise high enough 
 above the world, and we shall see it as one complete, 
 rounded whole. All truth is in harmony with itself. 
 There is but one Creator, who has revealed Himself both 
 
PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 197 
 
 in His works and in His word ; and when men are wiser 
 than they are now ; when they have climbed higher, and 
 dug deeper, and looked abroad more widely ; then will it 
 bo made manifest that the two Revelations are in har- 
 mony ; that there is a perfect accord between that which 
 came by holy men of old, who were moved by the Holy 
 Ghost, and that which God has written with His own 
 finger on tables of stone. 
 
 The mountains are older than Moses, but there is One 
 who is older than the mountains, to whom Moses himself, 
 perhaps while passing through these very mountains, lifted 
 up heart and voice in that majestic psalm : “Lord, thou 
 hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before 
 the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst 
 formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting 
 to everlasting thou art God.” This esplains everything. 
 Admit the Divine existence, and all mysteries are resolved. 
 With God there is no reckoning of time. “A thousand 
 years in Thy sight,” continues Moses in this sublime ode, 
 “ are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in 
 the night.” Even the geological epochs — though they 
 should be to our measurements of time what the inter- 
 planetary spaces are to the distances on our globe — what 
 are they to Him whose existence is from eternity to eter- 
 nity, from the illimitable past to the illimitable future ? 
 
 But apart from any geological question, these moun- 
 tains attract the eye by their grandeur. When they 
 were upheaved by forces from beneath, they were thrown 
 into the wildest forms. Sometimes they stand off at a 
 distance in lonely majesty, and sometimes they enclose us 
 in a narrow' pass. In such a pass we rested to-day at 
 noon, by a rock shaped somewhat like a chair, which is 
 pointed out as the seat of Moses when he tended the 
 flocks of Jethro, so that as we took our places in it, we 
 
198 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 were literally “sitting in Moses’ seat.” Another rock, 
 with an altar-like form, is said to have been the stone of 
 sacrifice on which Abraham bound Isaac. Pursuing our 
 course in the afternoon, night found us within two or 
 three hours distance of the Wady Feiran. We camped in * 
 full view of Serbal, which presented the same glorious 
 sight as from the foot of the Pass of the Winds the night 
 before we reached Sinai. 
 
 The beauty of the situation, however, did not prevent 
 an early morning start, for we had a long march before 
 us. For hours we were ascending, catching glimpses, as 
 we look back, of the Sinai range. As we mounted upward, 
 the surrounding summits sank; lower, and we seemed to 
 be emerging from the mountains. Then we crossed what 
 in America would be called a divide, and for miles we 
 descended a rugged, narrow pass, which brought us into 
 another amphitheatre of mountains, where nature did not 
 repeat herself, but varied the scene with new forms of 
 splendor. Some of the views surpassed all description. 
 There were mountains of red granite, that matchless 
 stone out of which — because of its hardness, united with a 
 fine grain, which takes the smoothest polish, and presents 
 the most beautiful surface — have been chiselled all the 
 obelisks of Egypt ; and mountains of porphyry, of all 
 colors from cream to black. In other instances granite 
 was veined with porphyry and diorite, as if, when the 
 mountains were upheaved, here and there a ridge or dome 
 had parted under the mighty pressure from beneath, and 
 through the rents and fissures thus made shot up streams 
 from the boiling mass in the heart of the earth. The 
 mingling of these elements produced a strange mingling 
 of colors. The very ground under our feet Was rich with 
 color, for here and there it seemed as if we were passing 
 over the ruins of an ancient city, some unknown Babylon 
 
PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 199 
 
 or Nineveh, so thickly was the plain strewn with what 
 looked like bricks, yet there was not a brick among them, 
 but only broken pieces of red stone which had crumbled 
 from tlio mountain sides. Now and then we would stop 
 our camels to count the number of colors, in which we 
 could easily distinguish all the hues of the rainbow. The 
 most prominent of these were sober colors — dark brown, 
 and red, and yellow, and olive green — the very shades which 
 it is the fashion of the day to use in the decoration of our 
 interiors. I leave to painters to imagine the effect of 
 these dark, rich colors thrown broadcast upon the moun- 
 tains! The coldest and dullest nature must catch some 
 glow and inspiration in passing through gorges where the 
 cliffs on either hand are like battlements of walled cities, 
 and the loftier peaks like castle towers, from which are 
 hung out banners in purple and gold. How can a trav- 
 eller be unmoved who 
 
 “ By this vision splendid 
 Is on his way attended, 
 
 Until at length he sees it fade away, 
 
 And melt into the light of common day ” ? 
 
 The next morning we said good-bye to granite. The 
 great mountain range which covers all the lower part of 
 the Peninsula of Sinai, here sinks down like a wave in the 
 sea, and is seen no more. It is completely submerged, not 
 reappearing till it lifts up its head again in the mountains 
 of the Caucasus, while over it here Hows the dark red 
 sandstone. New mountains come into view, which are 
 often pyramidal in form, with strata as regular as the lay- 
 ers of the Great Pyramid, looking as if they might have 
 been piled up by some race of Titans before man came 
 upon the earth. The change of the geological formation 
 is marked by a complete change of vegetation. In the 
 soft sand little daises begin to put up their white heads. 
 
200 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 and now and then comes the note of a bird. Dear lit- 
 tle songsters of the air, never did their music sound so 
 sweet. 
 
 The event of the day was reaching Surabit el Khadim, 
 a mountain of striking natural form as well as historical 
 interest, in which the range of sandstone ends, and which 
 served in the early days as a site both for a fortress and 
 a temple. We dismounted from our camels, and under 
 the escort of Arab guides, first descended a rough pass, or 
 glen, on the other side of which rose an almost perpendic- 
 ular wall of rock seven hundred feet high. We clambered 
 up the precipice, turning hither and thither to get a foot- 
 ing on a narrow ledge, and often obliged to stretch out a 
 hand to our nimble and sure-footed companions, till we 
 reached the top, and found ourselves on a broad plateau, 
 where are traces of copper mines that were worked in the 
 times of the Pharaohs : how far back in the list of Egyptian 
 dynasties, we cannot tell. But the mountain was probably 
 a place of worship long before it was pierced by mineral 
 excavations, if it be true that the temple, whose remains 
 we find here now, was standing four hundred years before 
 the time of Abraham ! This would seem to justify the 
 assertion that it is the oldest temple in the world. Like 
 the priests of Baal, those of Egypt chose high places for 
 their worship. This point commands a most extensive 
 view. To the south rise the peaks of Serbal, so that the 
 priests, while celebrating their worship here, could see 
 in the distance the smoke of sacrifices from the altars of 
 Baal. Centuries after this, in the time of Bameses XL, 
 whose daughter took Moses out of the bulrushes, it is said 
 to have been occupied as a military station, for which it 
 had an obvious fitness, as it commanded an outlook over 
 a large part of the Peninsula. It is even urged that the 
 Israelites, in the march to Sinai, probably avoided this 
 
PASSING THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 201 
 
 route, lest they should he stopped by the Egyptian gar- 
 rison. 
 
 The elevated point of view was of service to us, as it 
 gave us a wide sweep of the country, and enabled us to 
 outline the two routes before us, for we had come to the 
 parting of the ways. It was now the third day from the 
 Convent, and we had accomplished half the return journey 
 to Suez. If the reader will look at the map, he will see 
 that Surabit el Khadim is at an angle, from which one 
 route turns almost directly west. By following this, we 
 might have reached Suez by Saturday night. 
 
 But there was another route which turned to the north- 
 east, which did not seem very attractive, as it was at once 
 longer, more difficult and more dangerous, and of which 
 we were forewarned that there was absolutely nothing 
 to see ! Murray says of it : “ The route to Palestine by 
 way of Nuklil presents no object of interest to the ordi- 
 nary traveller. He had much better return to Suez, and 
 go thence, via Port Said and the sea, to Jaffa.” 
 
 No doubt all this was tine. Yet to an adventurous 
 traveller there is sometimes an interest in the very want of 
 interest — in exploring what is most desolate and dreary. 
 Opposite to us — perhaps eight or ten miles distant — 
 rose a chain of mountains, that seemed islanded in the 
 desert, a broad belt of sand sweeping round it, like 
 an arm of the sea. How the white cliffs glared in the 
 noonday ! What a prospect of weariness in climbing 
 those heights under the blazing sun! And once there, 
 what awaited us beyond ? Long marches over the burning 
 sand ! Fatigue perhaps to exhaustion, and weariness to 
 fainting ! Such was the prospect. W T as it strange if one 
 should hesitate a little before venturing into the unknown ? 
 Well ! if we repented of our rash vow, made when we de- 
 parted from Sinai ; if we shrank from the fatigues and 
 
202 
 
 LEAVING SINAI. 
 
 exposures and perils ; there was still a way of escape ; it 
 was not too late to draw back ; the broad plain beneath 
 us that stretched westward, opened an easy passage to the 
 coast. Which way should we choose ? The Doctor turned 
 to me to decide. One way was ease and safety and speedy 
 deliverance ; in the other was uncertainty and danger. 
 Yet there was a temptation in the very idea of plunging 
 into that which was comparatively untravelled. From 
 yonder heights stretched out the Great and Terrible Wil- 
 derness, which seemed to beckon us by its very desola- 
 tion. There was a fascination in the illimitable desert, 
 in its vagueness, vastness, and mystery. It did not take 
 me long to decide : one sweep of the eye round the 
 horizon, and we clambered down the rocks, mounted 
 our camels, and turned their heads towards the way of 
 the Wilderness. 
 
CHAPTEB XY. 
 
 TIIE GREAT AND TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 Our marches bring great changes in a single day. 
 Only this morning we said good-bye to the red granite, 
 and this afternoon we take leave of the old red sand- 
 stone. It may seem a welcome change to turn our backs 
 on a wilderness of rocky defiles. But one who has been 
 riding for days through these wild passes, observing the 
 fantastic forms of the cliffs and crags on either side, and 
 their infinite variety of color, cannot without a regret turn 
 away from these dark, sombre mountains. And to come 
 down from all this to the desert, is a change which involves 
 a double descent, a descent from the mountain to the plain, 
 and from the richest colors to the perpetual glare of the 
 naked limestone ! It is a change from boundless variety 
 to boundless monotony. 
 
 But there are always compensations in nature, by which 
 she relieves her bleakest and most barren wastes. Scarcely 
 had we descended into the plain which separates the great 
 mountain region of the Peninsula from the Desert of the 
 Wandering, before we observed new grasses and flowers 
 peering up in the sand. A new geological formation had 
 brought a new vegetation, and Dr. Post found fresh speci- 
 mens for his collection of the Flora of the Desert. Mo- 
 notonous and tiresome as it was, as we kept on our weary 
 march all the afternoon, yet as the wide plain opened a 
 view to the west, we saw the sun setting over the Egyptian 
 mountains on the other side of the Ked Sea. Meanwhile 
 
204 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 the great wall before us rose higher as we advanced across 
 the plain, and even its white, bare cliffs took on a sudden 
 splendor as the setting sun tinged them with the glow of 
 departing day. 
 
 And desolate as the region is, it derives interest from 
 the journeyings of the children of Israel. As they moved 
 northward from Sinai, they must have crossed this plain, 
 and scaled that mountain range, which would have been 
 an insurmountable bander if it had been held by an op- 
 posing force : for it is a thousand feet in height, and so 
 steep that, as we look up from below, the cliffs are like the 
 battlements of a walled city. There are but four passes 
 by which they can be ascended. We directed oui- course 
 to the Pass of Er Eakineh, and when we drew near to the 
 foot of the hills, we pitched our tents, as a prudent soldier 
 sometimes camps for the night in full view of a fortress 
 wliich he is to attack on the morrow. Here we lay down, 
 as it were, “ on our arms,” to be ready to spring up at the 
 tap of the drum. The morning brought us its new experi- 
 ences, which, as we shall see, were not without a charm of 
 their own. 
 
 The most picturesque sight on the desert is that of a 
 caravan in motion — a long line of camels, following one an- 
 other in single file, moving slowly but steadily across the 
 waste, and disappearing on the horizon. The picturesque- 
 ness is increased when, as this morning, the camel-line 
 moves up a height which brings it into bolder relief. As 
 our camp was but a short distance from the mountains, 
 we reached them at sunrise, and then took a foot-path, 
 which, as it led directly up the steep, took us to the top in 
 a couple of hours ; while the camels, as they carried heavy 
 loads, were obliged to take a more circuitous route, and 
 were an hour longer in making the ascent. But this slow 
 movement gave us one of the most striking scenes we had 
 
THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 205 
 
 had on the desert, as they went zigzag along the breast of 
 the mountains, coming at every turn into distinct outline 
 against the sky. When we reached the top, we sat down 
 on a pile of rocks, and looked back over the plain to the 
 sacred mountains, which we knew we should never see 
 again. From this time we could no longer get a view even 
 on the distant horizon, but we had hoped this morning, as 
 the sun rose, we might have vouchsafed to us one more 
 last look. There indeed was Serbal, with its peaks clear 
 against the sky, and farther down was Sinai, but wrapped 
 in cloud, as when the Lord came down upon its summit ; 
 and we saw it no more. This was a real disappointment. 
 It was with a feeling as if the face of the Lord were hid- 
 den from us, that we uncovered our heads, and bade fare- 
 well to Sinai forever. 
 
 But below us the sun shone brightly on the sand, which 
 was of dazzling whiteness, and glistened like the sea. 
 Clouds were flying over the sky, casting great shadows 
 upon the plain. From scenes like this come those images, 
 so often used in the Bible, of shifting sand and drifting 
 clouds, as emblems of our transient human existence. 
 
 At last the camels reached us, and we launched on our 
 new voyage. As we seated ourselves in the saddle, and 
 cast our eyes round the horizon, the character of the coun- 
 try was at once apparent. It is a vast plateau, or table- 
 land, in general outline not unlike one of the steppes of 
 Asia. It is not however an unbroken plain, but crossed by 
 mountain ranges, not so grand as those of the lower part 
 of the Peninsula, but still of considerable height, between 
 which are broad spaces of desert furrowed by water courses. 
 Scarcely had we left the edge of the cliff before we drop- 
 ped down into one of the gullies by which this vast tract 
 is seamed and scarred, and kept moving on from one to 
 another, as we had traversed a succession of wadies in 
 
206 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 going to Sinai. Sometimes we rose on an elevation, from 
 which we took in a more extensive view, and saw moun- 
 tains in the distance. These smaller hollows worn by 
 streams, like the affluents of a river, finally merge into the 
 Wady el Arisli (which we entered in the afternoon), which ■ 
 is to the Desert of the Wandering what the Wady es 
 Scheikh is among the mountains of granite and sandstone, 
 and which bears the great name of the Diver of Egypt — 
 a term which, as used in the Bible, does not designate the 
 Nile, but this mighty wady, which keeps its course to the 
 sea, coming out near Gaza, and forming the boundary be- 
 tween Egypt and Palestine. 
 
 Qf course the chief interest of this desolate region is 
 that it is none other than the Great and Terrible Wilder- 
 ness, in which the Israelites passed all but three of their 
 forty years of wandering. It has always been the tradi- 
 tion, that the march from Egypt to Sinai took about fifty 
 days ; and scholars reckon the time of the encampment 
 in the region of Sinai at one year, lacking a few days ; 
 when the host of Israel moved northward, and crossing 
 the sandy belt which we passed over yesterday, climbed 
 into this great upland. When they entered it, they could 
 not have intended to remain there, for Moses would not 
 have chosen such a desolate region for a long encamp- 
 ment. They took it on the march to the land promised 
 to their fathers, and advanced nearly through it, when 
 they were driven back by the fierce tribes that inhab- 
 ited the country. Thus repulsed, they withdrew and 
 pitched their tents in the wilderness, moving from place to 
 place, but never crossing its boundary for more than thirty- 
 seven years, when they turned south to the head of the 
 Gulf of Akaba, and passing round the mountains, came up 
 through Moab, on the east side of the Dead Sea, to Nebo, 
 where Moses died, and from which Joshua, shortly after, 
 
THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 207 
 
 led the tribes across the Jordan. My friend, the Rev. Dr. 
 Hitchcock of New York, President of the Union Theo- 
 logical Seminary, has kindly furnished the following table 
 of the time of the Israelites in their successive jour- 
 neyings : 
 
 Tears. Months. Days. 
 
 From Egypt to Sinai — 1 16 
 
 At Sinai — 11 20 
 
 ToKadesli — 4 10 
 
 In the Desert of tho Wandering ... 37 6 — 
 
 From Kadesh to Moab — 10 — 
 
 On the plains of Moab — 2 — 
 
 In all, 39 years, 11 months, and 16 days. 
 
 This long desert life of the Israelites raises the ques- 
 tion, often suggested before, but never so pressing as now, 
 as to the means of their subsistence. How could two 
 millions and a half of people find bread in the wilderness 
 to keep them alive for thirty-seven years ? Leaving for 
 the moment the question of the miraculous supply of 
 food, the problem may perhaps be solved in part by con- 
 sidering both the mode of life of the Israelites and the 
 greater fertility of the country at the time of the Exodus in 
 comparison with what it is to-day. The children of Israel 
 were not unaccustomed to the desert. The patriarchs lived 
 on it before they went down into Egypt. Abraham, Isaac, 
 and Jacob were “ dwellers in tabernacles,” that is, in tents. 
 They were nomads as truly as the Bedaween of the pres- 
 ent day. They lived by their flocks and herds, moving 
 from place to place, wherever they could find pasturage. 
 When Joseph’s brethren stood before Phai'aoli, and he 
 asked them of their occupation, they said “ Thy seiwants 
 are shepherds.” For that reason he appointed them 
 their place of abode not in Memphis, the capital, nor in 
 the other cities of Egypt, but in the land of Goshen, 
 where they could follow their accustomed occupation. 
 
208 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 They lived in Goshen, as they had lived on the desert, 
 with their flocks of sheep and herds of cattle ; and so 
 when they came to go up out of Egypt, it was the dictate 
 of self-preservation to take their flocks and herds with 
 them as their means of subsistence. For them to go out 
 into the wilderness did not involve the same hardship as 
 it would have been for the Egyptians, for they only went 
 back to the mode of life of their fathers. They pitched 
 their tents on the desert, and once more dwelt in taber- 
 nacles, as the patriarchs had done before them. The 
 Exodus for them was simply going back to their old, 
 wandering life. 
 
 But how was subsistence found for their flocks and 
 herds ? This can only be explained by supposing that 
 the vegetation was much more abundant then than now, 
 of which there is ample proof. In the wadies Avhich we 
 passed through in going to Sinai, there were signs that 
 at one period the mountains, if not covered with forests, 
 yet had by no means the bare look which they now have ; 
 while the wadies, w T hich are burnt and dry, may have 
 been as green as the deep valleys that one finds nestled 
 in the recesses of the Alps. All writers bear witness to 
 the constant and suicidal practice which has been going 
 on for centuries among the Arabs, of denuding the moun- 
 tains, not only of trees but of brushwood, for their camp- 
 fires and to bum for charcoal. This of course has caused 
 the little mountain springs to dry up, and the vegetation 
 to become more scanty. But still with all that man has 
 done to destroy vegetation, there is enough in the wadies 
 and on the hillsides to support flocks of goats ; and as 
 w T e advanced northward, we found large herds of camels 
 spread over the hills. In the wilderness it is not probable 
 that the Israelites were all in one camp. They may have 
 been spread over a tract as large as an English county, 
 
THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 209 
 
 in which were a hundred spots that could yield a tempo- 
 rary sustenance for their flocks and herds. But with all 
 these alleviations of their lot, still the Israelites found this 
 waste over which we are now passing, a Great and Terrible 
 Wilderness. A country in which they could find no abid- 
 ing place — where they were kept moving from one pasture 
 ground to another, eating up the land before them, and 
 leaving a desolate wilderness behind them ; in constant 
 danger, if left to themselves, of perishing by famine or by 
 pestilence — was not a country through which millions of 
 people could make their way unguided and alone. I repeat 
 what I have said before, that the more I see of the desert 
 the more the miracle of the Exodus grows upon me. How 
 the Israelites lived through it, is a mystery which no re- 
 sources of their own can explain, without the help of 
 Him who was their Guide and Protector. In reading 
 the story of their wanderings, we wonder not that they 
 often fainted, and that their hearts died within them. 
 Forty years! that is more than the lifetime of a gener- 
 ation. In that time old men died, and young men grew 
 old ; wives and children were buried in the sands of the 
 desert. What a trial for the wisdom and the firmness 
 of their great leader to keep any control of millions of 
 people, who were at times almost starving, and often in 
 a state of mutiny ! Moses himself was sometimes ready 
 to despair ; but he withdrew into the wilderness, and alone 
 he knelt upon the rocks or sands, and cried to Heaven for 
 help, and then returned, with new courage in his heart, to 
 inspire the faint and strengthen the weak, and to lead them 
 on, until at last he brought them to the Promised Land. 
 
 We camped in the Wady el Arisli. It was a bitter 
 night. The wind blew so that we feared it would blow 
 down our tents, and the men had to keep a sharp lookout, 
 driving in the tent-pegs to hold them fast. At the same 
 
210 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 time the temperature was almost freezing. The same lime- 
 stone surface which reflects the sun by day, radiates the 
 heat rapidly as soon as the sun goes down ; so that while 
 the days are very hot, the nights are very cold. We have 
 to wrap ourselves up warmly, piling blankets and over- 
 coats upon our camp-beds, and then are sometimes almost 
 frozen. Yet while it required our utmost efforts, even 
 under shelter, to keep our blood stirring, the Arabs slept 
 in the open air, with only their thin covering, and such 
 warmth as they might get from their camp-fires. 
 
 The nest morning we had a new experience. After 
 weeks of unclouded sky in Egypt and on the desert, it was 
 a relief to see signs of rain. Dark clouds gathered in the 
 west. This we took to indicate our approach to the sea. 
 It was probable that there had been a great storm on the 
 Mediterranean, the skills of which reached us, although 
 we were still at a distance of perhaps a hundred miles. 
 We had several light showers, which threatened a bad day 
 for marching ; yet we were so anxious to press on that we 
 struck our tents and started, keeping along the Wady el 
 Arisli, which we left only to enter on a broad plain covered 
 with flint stones, which continued, with occasional inter- 
 vals, perhaps twenty miles. This flinty desert is quite dif- 
 ferent from the sandy desert ; its surface is as hard as a 
 stone, and the tracks across it seem as if they had been 
 worn by the footsteps of caravans that had passed along 
 the same line for generations. 
 
 Notwithstanding the occasional showers, we escaped 
 pretty well in the morning ; but in the afternoon the 
 clouds again appeared, yet held off for a time, clinging 
 to a chain of mountains in the west, and we thought we 
 should run the gauntlet in safety. But suddenly, as if 
 they espied the fugitives on the plain, they advanced 
 directly towards us. “ Now we are in for it ! ” said the 
 
THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 211 
 
 Doctor. I dismounted, preferring to meet the enemy on 
 foot. Soon it came. The camels turned their heads to 
 escape the fury of the tempest. It required all the shout- 
 ing of their drivers to keep their heads to the storm. Thus 
 we struggled on. After an horn - the clouds broke away, 
 the sun came out, a rainbow spanned the sky, and we 
 rode on in triumph. And now we had time to admire the 
 strange formation of rocks. These limestone ranges some- 
 times stretch for miles, suggesting the familiar image of 
 city walls ; and as they are in places much broken, we see 
 cropping up, again and again, the outline of old castles 
 and towers. Here and there upon the plain stands a soli- 
 tary mound, so like a pyramid that one can hardly believe 
 it has not been fashioned by human hands. 
 
 We halted on the top of a hill, in a hollow ojDeu only 
 to the sky. All went to work to get the camp ready, 
 the Doctor driving the tent-pegs, and bringing stones to 
 keep them fast, lest we should have such a. blow as we had 
 had the night before. In half an hour the teuts were up, 
 and all was snug. Better still, our men found a place 
 where they were protected from the wind by rocks, and 
 here they were collected round their fires, with then cam- 
 els beside them. There were four camp-fires, for we had 
 had an addition to om camp since we left Sinai, in a small 
 party of Bedaween, who were bound to Gaza to bring back 
 grain for the Convent. As it was twelve days march, and 
 led through tribes that might help themselves to what- 
 ever the camels carried, they asked to accompany us, that 
 they might be under our protection. We had no objec- 
 tion, for in case of attack their swords and guns would be 
 a welcome addition to ours, and we could combine oux 
 forces for the common defence. 
 
 I wonder if I can make a picture of the scene around 
 our camp-fires, as I saw it that evening. 
 
212 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 Tlie camp-fire is the delight of the Bedaween. No 
 sooner are our tents pitched, and our wants attended to, 
 and the camels fed, than the men scatter about, pulling up 
 little shrubs and brushwood that grow on the desert, which 
 make a quick fire. These they pile on until the ground is 
 thoroughly heated, and they have a glowing bed of coals. 
 Meanwhile one of the Arabs pom's out of a sack perhaps 
 a peck of meal upon a piece of coarse cloth, much the 
 worse for wear, and adding a little water and salt, kneads 
 it into a dough, which, when of the proper consistency, 
 is flattened out like a huge pancake, looking very much 
 like the chipatties in India. Then the bed of coals is raked 
 open, and the cake laid carefully upon it, and the glowing 
 ashes raked over it. While this is going on, observe the 
 faces of the Arabs gathered round the fire ! Every step of 
 the process is watched with eager interest. How their eyes 
 glisten in the firelight ! Talk of a dinner prepared by a 
 French cook : it is nothing to the feast of these children 
 of the desert, to which they come with appetites sharpened 
 by hunger. As I watch them night after night, I think 
 how much more they enjoy their supper than we do ours, 
 since they have the pleasure of preparing it as well as of 
 eating it. We, who partake of our meals only when they 
 are placed before us, do not know the exquisite delight of 
 those who enjoy a feast beforehand by witnessing its prep- 
 aration. This is one of the things which give so keen a 
 zest to gypsy life, and which civilized folk try to imitate 
 in a poor way by getting up a picnic. They find that the 
 same food tastes much better when a whole party are sit- 
 ting on the grass under a tree, than if it- were served on a 
 table. This free outdoor life our Arabs have every day, 
 and their evening meal is one prolonged enjoyment from 
 the time the camp-fire is blazing. We, sitting in our tent, 
 have a regular dinner, with soup and three courses of meat 
 
TIIE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 213 
 
 and vegetables, and a dessert of oranges and figs and 
 almonds and raisins, winding up with a delicious cup of 
 coffee. This is very well ; but, after all, we only get one 
 meal, while our poor fellows, whom we pity so, feast all 
 the time that the supper is preparing, and devour it a 
 hundred times with their eyes before they take it into 
 their mouths. By-and-by the heap of coals is opened, and 
 the cake turned over. A few minutes more, and the cook- 
 ing is complete. What would Charles Lamb, who wrote 
 with such delicious humor of the enjoyment in the cooking 
 as well as the eating of roast pig, say to this feast of the 
 desert? When the loaf comes out, it is certainly well 
 done, though thickly crusted with ashes. However, they 
 do not mind that ; but dusting it off with an old rag, 
 proceed to break it up into a pot with some greasy mix- 
 ture, making the whole a thick porridge. Thus the meal 
 is prepared, and now the circle gathers round it, when a 
 boy comes along with a water-skin, pouring a little on the 
 fingers of all in the group, who then proceed, one after the 
 other, to dip their hands in the dish. How their faces 
 shine as they take the savory mess ! A lien they have 
 scraped the pot with their fingers till not a thimbleful 
 remains, then comes the crown of the feast — what is better 
 to them than any dessert — the pipe ! They bring out 
 their chibouques, and fill them, and +ake long, long drafts 
 — deep inhalations. If any one is so unfortunate as not to 
 have a pipe, or tobacco to fill it, his neighbor, in the true 
 spirit of Oriental hospitality, takes his own pipe from his 
 mouth, and puts it into the mouth of his brother, and thus 
 they rejoice together. All these things combined make a 
 feast which an epicure might envy. 
 
 But this is not all. Then begins the flow of conversa- 
 tion, which is the delight of the Bedaween, as of more 
 civilized peoples. The camp-fire on the desert is what the 
 
214 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 club is in a city : it is the place of the conversazione, where 
 the Arabs tell all the gossip of the camp or the tribe, and 
 discuss the matters of their little world with as much 
 eagerness as the politics of England are discussed in the 
 clubs of London. The amusement which Frenchmen 
 would seek in a theatre, these simple children of the 
 desert find in telling stories, which are often received with 
 shouts of laughter, and which not seldom are continued 
 far into the night. At length the laughter ceases, the fires 
 grow dim, and the Arab 
 
 “ Wraps the drapery of his couch about him,” 
 
 (which consists of his one miserable garment) 
 
 “And lies down to pleasant dreams.” 
 
 “ Dreams ” ! Does the Bedawee ever dream ? Yes in- 
 deed : why should he not dream? All the riches he pos- 
 sesses he in the land of dreams. Sleeping on the desert, 
 under the sky, he sees visions and dreams dreams of all 
 which makes the delight of an Arab’s existence. That 
 poor fellow who lies there with his head in the sand, is 
 dreaming now of the Oasis of Eeiran, of the running brook 
 and the palms that bend over it, and of his companions 
 who watch the flocks of black goats on the mountain side. 
 But whatever his dreams, they do not interrupt his deep, 
 sound slumber. That group round the smouldering camp- 
 fire lie motionless as if in death, yet are ready to spring 
 up at the first streak of dawn. 
 
 As the next day was our sixth since we left Mount 
 Sinai, and we wished to be at Nukhl for our camp over 
 Sunday, and feared lest we might be delayed by rain, we 
 started at an early hour, so early indeed that a little after 
 noon we reached the great plain, at the farther end of 
 which we descried the fort. Nukhl is a notable place on 
 the desert, as it is the chief station on the route of pilgrim- 
 
THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 215 
 
 age from Cairo to Mecca, being midway between the Gulfs 
 of Suez and Akaba. Here once in the year is witnessed 
 the most extraordinary spectacle in the world : a train of 
 camels that seems almost endless comes up out of the 
 western horizon, and moves slowly to the east. Yast 
 encampments are pitched around the fort, which was built 
 for this express purpose, to give protection to the pilgrims, 
 and to furnish food and water to them and to their camels. 
 Fifty Egyptian soldiers are quartered here — some of them 
 old soldiers of Ibrahim Pasha — to furnish any protection 
 which is needed, while their families live in a little cluster 
 of mud-houses under the walls of the fort. 
 
 If the sight of such a structure (the only building we 
 had seen since we left the Convent at Mount Sinai) was an 
 object of interest to us, no less was the approach of a car- 
 avan coming across the desert an object of interest to them. 
 
 ' Our arrival put the encampment into commotion. The 
 whole garrison turned out to see us pass, officers and sol- 
 diers, and the women of the village, and children too — 
 every mother’s son of them was there to behold the advent 
 of the Howadjis. We did not halt to receive their hom- 
 age, but swept majestically round the fort, and encamped 
 on the northern side. 
 
 Hardly had we pitched our tents before the officer in 
 command appeared. He was not a very imposing repre- 
 sentative of the military profession. To tell the truth, he 
 was a battered hulk, perhaps the wreck of old wars, but 
 answered well enough for such an out-of-the-way post. He 
 made us many salaams, and invited us to his castle — an 
 invitation with which we speedily complied. In ascending 
 the stairs to his room, we nearly blundered into the harem, 
 which of course caused a little flutter. However, we soon 
 got into the right place, where we sipped our coffee with 
 due satisfaction. The old soldier then took us over the 
 
216 
 
 THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 fort — a rude square building, which, can be considered a 
 fortification only by courtesy. It had in the court a single 
 cannon, which is reserved, I suppose, for saluting on great 
 occasions, as when a prince or other grand personage makes 
 the pilgrimage to Mecca. The fort has one provision against 
 a siege in a capacious well, from which the water is drawn 
 up by a wheel and buckets. As this water is not needed 
 for a besieged garrison, it is conveyed by a small aqueduct 
 to large tanks outside the fort, near the northern wall. 
 These tanks seem indeed as if they might furnish water 
 for an army. There is also a well outside, fifty feet deep 
 and about fifty feet in circumference, encircled by a huge 
 trough of stone, from which twenty or thirty camels could 
 drink at once. The next morning the herds were driven 
 in from the desert to fill up the cisterns within them with 
 a supply for days. Here camels bound on the pilgrimage 
 drink to the full before setting out ; while their masters, 
 drawing up the water in leathern buckets, which are let 
 down by goat’s-hair cords, fill their water-skins for their 
 long march across the desert. 
 
 When we had thus inspected the “Fort of Nukhl,” and 
 made all sorts of flattering speeches to its gallant com- 
 mander, we thought we had performed the courtesies of 
 the occasion. But not so the old Colonel. He accompa- 
 nied us back to our tent. We offered him a chair, but he 
 preferred to squat, like a Turk, on our rugs. We then tried 
 to engage him in conversation, but his resources were not 
 great. Evidently his ideas of the world did not extend 
 beyond Cairo and Constantinople. At length we were at a 
 loss how to entertain a visitor who sat like an Indian 
 sachem in his wigwam, answering only with grunts. We 
 found we had an elephant on our hands. He seemed in 
 no haste to terminate his visit. On the slightest sugges- 
 tion, he was ready to stay to dinner, or indeed to spend 
 
THE TERRIBLE WILDERNESS. 
 
 217 
 
 the night ; in fact, he would have taken up his quarters 
 with us over Sunday. We found that Oriental hospitality 
 had its embarrassments as well as its pleasures. We were 
 put to our wits to know how to get rid of this ponderous 
 creature. Of course it must be done with strict regard to 
 courtesy. A happy thought struck us, and we called the 
 dragoman to our relief : “ Tohanna, could you not invite 
 the Governor into your quarters ? ” He took in the situa- 
 tion in an instant, and advancing in the blandest manner, 
 requested the honor of his Excellency’s presence in the 
 adjoining tent, to partake of coffee and smoke the chi- 
 bouque. The temptation was too powerful to be resisted. 
 The old man found his legs, which were curled up some- 
 where under him, and waddled off. Half an hour after we 
 saw him in the next tent, with wreaths of smoke curling 
 round his head, and a serene self-complacency on his broad 
 features, like a smile on the face of a Chinese idol. 
 
 Towards evening a file of soldiers marched down from 
 the fort with military step, and took their places in front 
 of our tents to be our protectors for the night. We bade 
 them welcome, and directed that they be treated with hos- 
 pitality. They soon made friends with our Arabs, and 
 stacking their guns, are now sitting round the camp-fire, 
 smoking their pipes. Thus guarded by Moslem soldiers, 
 on a spot which is every year overspread with the vast 
 Moslem camp, we sleep to-night, as if we were a couple of 
 dervishes on a pilgrimage to Mecca. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 NUKIIL OX THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 If some of my countrymen were to spend two days, as 
 we did, at Nukhl, I am afraid they would describe it, with 
 that elegance and felicity of speech which they sometimes 
 employ, as “ the most God-forsaken place on the face of 
 the earth.” It must he confessed that it has few external 
 attractions. A vast, desolate plain, with not a palm-tree 
 to relieve it ; with not even soft sand under your feet, hut 
 a surface as hard as if it had heen heaten down by the 
 tread of armies, and swept by all the winds of heaven — 
 that is Nukhl ! A more bleak and cheerless waste could 
 not be found on the steppes of Siberia, or even in the heart 
 of the Sahara. 
 
 And yet there are not many spots to which I have 
 come in my wanderings about the world, which awaken 
 more associations than this same desolate plain. It is the 
 “ cross-roads ” of two races and two religions — the Hebrew 
 coming up from the South, from Sinai, bearing the Law of 
 God to the land promised for his inheritance ; and the 
 Arab coming from the East, with the scimitar in his hand, 
 to carry Islam into Africa. The Hebrew passed, and did 
 not return ; but where the Arab passed, the wave of Islam 
 has continued to flow from that day to this. Mahomet was 
 bom in 570 ; the Hegira, or flight from Mecca, from which 
 are reckoned all the dates in the Moslem Calendar, was in 
 622 ; and ten years later the Moslems were masters of 
 Egypt, and no doubt established soon after the custom of 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 219 
 
 an annual pilgrimage to Mecca. The route could be but 
 in one line — a direct course from the head of the Gulf of 
 Suez to the head of the Gulf of Akaba ; and it is probable 
 that the conquerors of Egypt fixed the midway station at 
 Nukhl ; that they erected the fort, and dug the wells, and 
 built the tanks ; and that along this route thus marked out 
 the pilgrimage has flowed and reflowed for more than 
 twelve hundred years. 
 
 The custom of making pilgrimages to holy shrines is a 
 very ancient one, and one that came from the East. The 
 Wise Men came from the East to the place of the Saviour’s 
 birth. Homan Catholics have introduced the custom into 
 Europe, but its origin is Asiatic. India is the land of pil- 
 grimages. The Prophet did not forget to make use of this 
 powerful means of touching the Oriental imagination, and 
 inspiring Oriental devotion. He himself made pilgrimages 
 to Mecca. Almost the last act of his life w T as to lead forty 
 thousand pilgrims to that sacred spot. In the eyes of a 
 hundred and fifty (some estimate it at a Landred and 
 eighty) millions, Mecca is the holiest spot on earth. To 
 visit it — to walk round the Kaaba, and kiss the black stone 
 which came from heaven, and to chink of the w T ell Zem 
 Zem — is at once the greatest privilege and honor. To 
 perform this act of devotion invests the pilgrim with pecu- 
 liar sanctity. Pilgrims come from all parts of the Mos- 
 lem world. When I crossed the Mediterranean in 1875, 
 there were on board four hundred Circassians from the 
 farther shores of the Black Sea ; and when, four months 
 later, I sailed from Singapore to the island of Java, the 
 deck of the little Dutch steamer was crowded with return- 
 ing pilgrims. Thus they came from the extremes of West- 
 ern and Southern Asia, to meet at the same holy place in 
 the heart of Arabia. 
 
 * But the most imposing Moslem pilgrimages are from 
 
220 
 
 NUKHL, 
 
 Cairo and Damascus. These muster the largest numbers, 
 and are marshalled with the greatest splendor. The de- 
 parture of the pilgrims from Cairo is the event of the year. 
 They are accompanied out of the city by a military pro- 
 cession, and by a vast multitude mounted on horses and 
 camels. Their return is welcomed with still greater dem- 
 onstrations. Troops go out to meet them, and escort them 
 into the city ; crowds throng the streets through which 
 they pass ; tlie Khedive, surrounded by his officers of 
 state and by thousands of soldiers, awaits their coming ; 
 and when the sheikh rides into the public square on the 
 sacred camel, bearing the sacred carpet which for one year 
 has covered the tomb of the Prophet, the bands strike up 
 their most triumphant airs, which are answered by the 
 thunder of cannon from the Citadel. 
 
 If such be the splendor of their departure and return, 
 something of this must surround their great encampment 
 on the desert ; for of all these caravans moving to and fro, 
 and of this religious enthusiasm rolling between Cairo and 
 Mecca, Nukhl is the centre. Standing in front of the fort, 
 I could not but think what a spectacle it must be when the 
 plain is covered with thousands of pilgrims, of different 
 Oriental races and languages, in the picturesque costumes 
 of the East ; and how impressive the scene when, as the 
 sun touches the western horizon, all turn, as by a common 
 instinct, towards Mecca, and bow upon the sands and 
 worship. 
 
 With such associations as these, this plain is not alto- 
 gether desolate. Few things in a country are more sug- 
 gestive than its roads, especially those which lead to great 
 capitals, and along which sweeps a flood of tumultuous 
 life. The Coliseum itself has not more associations than 
 the Appian Way, over which the legions marched, “ bring- 
 ing many captives home to Rome ” ; and hardly less inter- 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 221 
 
 esting is this great highway of the desert, which has been 
 swept by forty generations of pilgrims. 
 
 One cannot stand by such a highway, and think to 
 where it leads, without a strong desire to follow it to the 
 end — to Mecca itself! Were it possible to bring that 
 within the range of travel, what would one not give to be 
 able to join a caravan from Cairo or Damascus, and make 
 the great pilgrimage ! Of the four holy cities of the 
 world, I have visited Rome and Benares, and am on my 
 way to Jerusalem : Mecca alone is guarded from all eyes 
 but those of the faithful : that no Giaour can enter but at 
 the risk of his life. It is said that in a few cases a Euro- 
 pean, who had lived so long in the East as to have a per- 
 fect mastery of Arabic, has disguised himself as a dervish, 
 and mingling with the crowd of pilgrims, has been able to 
 reach Mecca, and come back in safety. But if the disguise 
 were penetrated, and the intruder discovefbd, he would 
 not return to tell the tale. All we can do, therefore, is to 
 look towards Mecca from a great distance. We can only 
 stand here by the roadside, and in imagination follow the 
 dromedaries as they move aw r ay to the East, and disappear 
 below the horizon. 
 
 A scene so picturesque touches the Oriental imagina- 
 tion, and is a frequent subject of Arabic poetry. Dr. Post 
 was fond of repeating a stanza from a poem which de- 
 scribes the return from Mecca. It had a very musical 
 sound, and preserves its poetical flavor even in a transla- 
 tion. The lines ran thus : 
 
 And when we had fulfilled every desire in the holy places, 
 
 And all who wished had touched the sacred relics. 
 
 We gathered up the broken threads of our conversation, 
 
 And the rolling wadies flowed with the necks of camels. 
 
 The exquisite beauty of the last line can only be appre- 
 ciated by those who have watched a caravan in the dis- 
 
222 
 
 NUKHL, 
 
 tance, approaching or receding, and observed how the 
 curved necks of the camels, and their long swinging 
 motion, seem literally to flow, as it were, in rhythmic lines 
 or waves, with the undulations of the desert. 
 
 But the interest of Nukhl is chiefly of a mournful and 1 
 melancholy kind : for as the pilgrims appear and vanish, 
 they leave not a trace behind, save in the graves of those 
 who perish in the march. I observed that the plain was 
 covered w T ith low mounds, beneath which, we could not 
 doubt, rested the remains of myriads of pilgrims. Along 
 the route are scattered the skeletons of camels that have 
 fallen by the way, and whose flesh has been devoured by 
 vultures, such as are at this moment flying over the plain, 
 looking for new victims. On the horizon is a range of low 
 limestone hills, which are said to be the haunt of the wolf 
 and the hyena, which sometimes creep down into the plain 
 to find water. I could not resist the horrible thought that 
 the famished beasts sometimes tore open the graves to 
 make a banquet of the dead. 
 
 As we think of these pilgrims, who left their bones in 
 the wilderness, we are reminded that this broad track in the 
 desert has been the royal road of Death for more than a 
 thousand years. Mecca has been the very nest and breed- 
 ing-place of those diseases which are the scourges of Asia — 
 the cholera and the plague — which have been carried there 
 by pilgrims from all parts of Asia and Africa, and which 
 returning pilgrims have brought with them and scattered 
 over the world. Side by side with the returning caravans, 
 keeping company with them, has travelled an unseen Pil- 
 grim, advancing along this very route, as if it were his own 
 king’s highway, from Asia into Africa, and ravaging the 
 shores of the Mediterranean, has at last carried consterna- 
 tion to Western Europe. Again and again has there been 
 weeping, not only in the low quarters of populous cities, 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 223 
 
 but in high halls and in kings’ palaces, because of the 
 scourge which has come along this route from Mecca. Of 
 those who fell on the desert, tens of thousands lie beneath 
 the mounds which are scattered far and wide over the 
 plain of Nukhl. Here they sleep, with no stone to record 
 their names, or even to mark the spot — their only requiem 
 the winds of the desert. 
 
 The winds of the desert ! That sound is the most 
 melancholy of all the voices of nature. It is not like the 
 sound of the wind in a forest of pines, or on the shore 
 where it mingles with the moaning of the sea — for there 
 is life in the forest and in the sea, life in the swinging 
 boughs and the dashing waves— but in the wind of the 
 desert there is a hollow sound, for it comes over a world 
 all silent and still, as over a world of the dead, and seems 
 to be wailing like a lost spirit over innumerable graves. 
 
 But Nukhl had another interest to us, as the point in our 
 journey where we had to make an entire change of men 
 and camels for our further march. We were now to have an 
 illustration of Bedaween customs. Here we entered the 
 territory of another tribe, the Tayyahah, which claimed the 
 sole right to levy tribute on travellers who passed through 
 their country. We knew of this Arab usage, and for days 
 had been looking forward to the change with the utmost 
 regret. Ever since we left Suez we had had the same 
 men ; they had been with us in long and weary marches, 
 and more docile, patient, and willing servants we could 
 not desire, and we were very unwilling to part with such 
 faithful companions. They too were equally reluctant to 
 part from us, whom they had found kind and indulgent ! 
 masters, and were willing to divide what they should 
 receive with the new tribe if they might be permitted to 
 accompany us. But the Bedaween of Nukhl were inex- 
 orable. They would allow our men to pass through their 
 
224 
 
 NUKHL, 
 
 territory (as indeed they did, going on to Gaza to bring 
 back supplies for the Convent), but they must not carry 
 us. To furnish guides and camels for travellers was the 
 special privilege and perquisite of the tribe in whose terri- 
 tory we were, which they would not surrender. If our 
 men had attempted to force their way, there would have 
 been a pitched battle. Of course there was nothing to do 
 but to submit. But it was a real sorrow to us to say fare- 
 well to our gentle and simple Tawarah. 
 
 Seeing it was inevitable, we wished to do something to 
 soften the pain of separation. Dr. Post, who knew the 
 hearts of the Bedaween, had conceived, “ in the recesses 
 of a mind capacious of such things,” the idea of a grand 
 stroke which should cause us to be forever remembered 
 by our companions, and to be blessed in their tribe. It 
 was to buy a sheep and give it to them to roast whole and 
 make a feast. “ But what,” I asked, “ can they do with a 
 whole sheep ? ” “ They will not leave a mouthful ; they 
 
 will pick the last bone,” was the answer. It is so seldom 
 that the poor fellows get a “ square meal ” that when it 
 comes they do it full justice. Of course I was delighted, 
 and enjoyed in advance their surprise and amazement at 
 this unexpected feast. But alas for our generous inten- 
 tions ! “ To cook a hare you must first catch it.” There 
 
 was not a sheep to be had in all the country round for 
 love or money. So we had to abandon our brilliant design 
 and content ourselves with giving a very liberal back- 
 sheesh. 
 
 And now came the negotiations for another party. The 
 sheikh of the tribe presented himself immediately on our 
 arrival. As soon as he appeared, the large heart of Yo- 
 hanna swelled within him ; he fell on the neck of the Arab 
 and kissed him. Their love was like the love of David and 
 Jonathan. Who that saw these brothers folded in each 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 225 
 
 other’s arms could imagine that in a few horn's one would he 
 trying to cheat the other, while the latter would he writh- 
 ing, not in embraces, hut in toils from which he could not 
 escape ? The matter was one of some difficulty. A regu- 
 lar contract had to he made, as we had made one before in 
 Cairo. The only difference was that, as we had contracted 
 with our dragoman to take us the whole journey, it was his 
 business to contract with the sheikh. But of course we 
 had to stand behind him and see him through. This 
 obliged us to be present at a scene of which we were 
 unwilling witnesses. As we were trying to get a little 
 rest in our tent, we were summoned to the fort. Our 
 dragoman was in trouble. We found him surrounded by 
 a dozen or twenty Bedaween, who were putting him 
 through a course of torture. The more he writhed under 
 it the more they increased their exactions. At first they 
 asked ten pounds above the regular price, then twenty, 
 and finally thirty pounds ! Poor Yohanna was in despair. 
 Being of an excitable temperament, he was driven to frenzy 
 by these repeated demands, and for a moment lost all 
 self-control ; his face was swollen with rage, his eyes were 
 full of tears, and I thought he would tear the hair out of 
 his head, and gave him one anxious look, but a glance 
 reassured me, his hair was very short. But tears and 
 entreaties were in vain : the Arabs knew that we could not 
 stir a step without their camels and their guides, and were 
 determined to profit by our necessities. Our friend the 
 old Governor did not once interpose to rescue us from 
 their rapacity. Instead of using his authority to protect 
 us, he looked on grinning and smiling, and evidently 
 enjoyed the scene. Of course it was useless to contend 
 against such combined forces, and, ignominious as it 
 seemed, we advised the dragoman to capitulate, to make 
 an unconditional surrender, and to get the best terms he 
 
226 
 
 NUKHL, 
 
 could. He took our advice, accepted the terms and en- 
 tered into a formal contract with the sheikh, who engaged 
 to furnish the requisite number of camels and guides, and 
 to convoy us safely to Gaza in sis days. The contract was 
 duly signed and sealed, and was from that moment bind- 
 ing — so far as anything could bind these wild men of the 
 desert. 
 
 Perl laps some may think we felt great anger and indig- 
 nation at the sheikh and his comrades who cheated us so 
 roundly. On the contrary, we thought ourselves extremely 
 fortunate that they had not cheated us still more. We 
 had fallen among thieves, and they acted after their kind. 
 They might have asked us a hundred pounds too much 
 instead of thirty — or five hundred, for that matter — and we 
 could not have helped ourselves. We were completely in 
 their power ; to use the slang of the Stock Exchange, they 
 had “ a corner ” on us, and we were but too happy to get 
 off so easily. 
 
 After this disagreeable business it was a relief to get 
 away from such company and go off by ourselves, like 
 Isaac, to meditate at eventide, when, as if to add to the 
 peace of the hour and the quiet beauty of the scene, there 
 hung in the west a new moon. Last evening we had seen 
 only the stars, in which we recognized the familiar constel- 
 lations of our Northern Hemisphere, the only objects that 
 are familiar on the desert or on the sea. But to-night we 
 had the first glimmer of the young moon. We had had 
 the full moon at Serbal, as we shall have the Paschal moon 
 at Jerusalem ; but here, midway between the two, we have 
 only the half light of that pale and slender crescent. It 
 seemed a singular coincidence that we should have the 
 sign of Islam hanging over the place of the great Moslem 
 camp. 
 
 The next morning, though we started at an early hour, 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 227 
 
 the old Governor was on hand to take leave of us, and 
 hung round in a way that was very suggestive. We knew 
 what he was after, for, like all Arabs, he had an itching 
 palm. But, as he had not helped us in our difficulty, we re- 
 solved to teach him a lesson. His devotion, however, nearly 
 overcame our resolution. He was ready to give his life 
 for us. He declared that he would take the field in person, 
 at the head of his soldiers, and march by our side, to guard 
 us from the dangers of the way. But the Doctor was not 
 deceived by these professions, and whispered “ Don’t give 
 him anything!” To his grimaces and protestations we 
 replied with thanks. He bowed and smiled, and we bowed 
 and smiled. But he looked very blank when he saw us 
 mount our camels, with not a single napoleon left in his 
 hand, and I have no doubt, returned disgusted to his 
 castle. 
 
 And now we were to make the acquaintance of our new 
 set of retainers. We found that the change was complete ; 
 that in taking Arabs of another tribe, we took a very 
 different set of men — men of a different physique, larger 
 and stronger, and of a less gentle aspect than our late com- 
 panions ; and before we were through with them, we found 
 that they differed as much in character as in looks ; that 
 they answered much more to our idea of the real Bedaween 
 of the desert. Among them was an old soldier of Ibrahim 
 Pacha, who carried a rusty sword by his side in token of 
 his military profession, and who, before we reached the 
 end of our journey, showed that, in spite of his years, he 
 had the fiery spirit and the courage of a soldier. Another 
 carried one of those long guns, made at Damascus, which 
 are the pride of the Bedaween, though we could not think 
 much of its efficiency, for it was plugged up at the muzzle, 
 and the lock swathed with bandages like a mummy, so that 
 it seemed as if it must take a quarter of an hour before it 
 
228 
 
 NUKHL, 
 
 could be unlimbered for action. We wished to relieve the 
 bearer of his burden, and asked him to give it to one of 
 the mounted men to sling on his saddle ; but no, he must 
 have it always in his hand, in case we were attacked by 
 wild beasts (!) or by robbers ! ! These intimations of 
 danger rather amused us, for we saw no lion in our path, 
 and the wolves and hyenas that lurked in the hills were 
 not fierce enough to attack anything more formidable than 
 a dead camel ; and as for robbers, we travelled in the 
 Desert of the Wandering five days without meeting a 
 single man ! However, we found before we reached G-aza 
 that our Arab knew better than we, and that there were 
 real dangers before us, against which it was necessary to be 
 on our guard. 
 
 The leader of the party was the old sheikh, a somewhat 
 notable personage, of whom I shall speak hereafter. 
 
 The camels also were new to us, and with them we had 
 to become acquainted. They too, like their masters, were 
 of another breed than those we had had before. In place 
 of my young dromedary, I had given to me a camel of 
 much larger stature, to whose back I could hardly reach. 
 To mount such a huge beast seemed like climbing a church 
 steeple, and sitting on the vane. However, if she was not 
 handsome, she was good. I found her a quiet creature, 
 that carried me without a murmur over the long stretches 
 of sandy plain. Indeed she was of a gentleness quite un- 
 usual among camels, and one that almost required expla- 
 nation. I learned that, a month before, she had become 
 the mother of a little camel that died, and this sorrow 
 seemed to be in her maternal heart, and to cause her to be 
 in a very sad, and yet very tender, mood. The cameleer 
 who led her was her owner — probably his only possession 
 in the world — and even when not leading her, walked by 
 her side, and never wearied of caressing her. He would 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 229 
 
 stroke her gently, and now and then would swing her long 
 neck round and kiss her huge black lips. Sometimes I 
 observed him putting his hand under her, and making it a 
 cup, press into it a little of her milk, which he put as a 
 precious draught to his lips. Once, as a great honor, he 
 brought me a glass of camel’s milk, which I found not 
 unpleasant, though I prefer the milk of our little Jerseys. 
 Of such a creature one could not help becoming fond. As 
 we got better acquainted, she allowed me to pet her, to 
 ruffle the fur on her neck, as one scratches the head of a 
 parrot, and would kneel or rise at my bidding. 
 
 Dr. Post was less fortunate. He had given to him a 
 camel that ought to have been a means of grace to him, 
 for certainly she would have been a trial to any man. 
 Oh, but she was a growler ! She would grumble on the 
 slightest provocation, or on none at all. If he turned her 
 this way or that, no matter how gently, or if he did not 
 touch the halter, but let her take her own way, it made no 
 difference. If we reined up to have a little quiet talk as 
 we rode along, this vicious old creature was sure to take 
 part in the conversation ; and if her rider tried to hush 
 her, she would hit up her voice the louder. She was one 
 of those bores that will not be suppressed ; and if her 
 master finally lost patience, and gave her the beating that 
 she deserved, she set up a terrible roaring. That camel 
 was a beast ! Human nature, however cross-grained, could 
 not have been worse. 
 
 Thus mounted and guarded, we set out on our march, 
 just as the sun was rising over the desert. At first we 
 directed our course to the East, which we could not under- 
 stand, for it seemed as if we were following nearly in the 
 track of the pilgrimage to Mecca, but presumed that the 
 sheikh who was our guide, like an old mariner, was mak- 
 ing a little “Easting” to strike into some broad wady, 
 
230 
 
 NUKHL, 
 
 when he would turn to the North — a conjecture which 
 proved true, as in a few hours we struck again into the 
 great Wady el Arish. After miles of weary march, we saw 
 before us another wall of mountains, which we did not 
 cross, but kept in view as we moved along the bed of the 
 “ River of Egypt.” 
 
 Our course to-day led over great flint-covered plains. 
 It was indeed “ a dry and thirsty land where no water is,” 
 and yet all round us shone crystal lakes, only they were 
 always out of reach, and had we advanced towards them 
 we might have gone on forever. It was our first sight of 
 the mirage. Observing it closely, it seemed as if it were a 
 phenomenon very easy of explanation ; that it was caused 
 by the vibration of the heated air near the surface of the 
 desert, which produced an illusion like that from the 
 reflection of the sun on rippling water. Studied merely 
 as a wonder of nature, as we study the rainbow, it was a 
 beautiful object, but what a mocking fiend it must be to 
 those whom it lures on and on, only to perish at last. To 
 one dying of thirst there could hardly be a more cruel 
 torture than this gleam of water in the distance. 
 
 Towards evening we came near mountains which, 
 to the eye of the Doctor, resembled those of Palestine. 
 Thus almost every day something looms up on the hori- 
 zon which reminds one or the other of mountain scenery 
 or coast scenery which is familiar. The desert, while it 
 is like the sea in its vast expanse, is different in this, 
 that it is a sea with the coast always in sight. I do not 
 remember ever having been “ out of sight of land.” There 
 is always at least a range of low hills on the horizon, which 
 sometimes rise to mountains, and recall mountains that 
 we have seen in other parts of the world. Often we seem 
 to be sailing along a rugged coast, and can easily imagine 
 ourselves off the west coast of Ireland, or sailing up St- 
 
ON THE ROUTE OF PILGRIMS TO MECCA. 
 
 231 
 
 George’s Channel, with the mountains of Wales in sight, 
 or along the southern shore of the Isle of Wight. This 
 evening, while the mountains to our left were in deep 
 shadow, the setting sun, striking across the open plain 
 before us, fell on a long range of cliffs on our right, the 
 effect of which was heightened by the mirage, which made 
 them seem as if they rose out of water, and thus re- 
 minded me of the chalk cliffs of Dover, while isolated 
 cliffs, standing out here and there, might easily be imag- 
 ined a fleet of line-of-battle ships bearing down the Chan- 
 nel. Yet this is the route to Palestine by Nukhl, which 
 “presents no object of interest to the traveller ” ! 
 
CHAPTER XVH 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 We had set out from Nukhl with the determination to 
 reach Gaza by the end of the week at any cost, even if it 
 were necessary to make forced marches for the purpose. 
 We were now in a region where we were liable to storms, 
 that might render it impossible for a whole day, or a series 
 of days, to stir from camp ; and in apprehension of such 
 delays, we determined to make the most of clear weather. 
 So we rose early, starting soon after sunrise, and kept on 
 till nearly dark. This caused a grumbling among the men, 
 the sound of which soon came to our ears. We found our 
 new Arabs were not so tractable as the old ones. Their 
 plan was directly opposed to ours : instead of starting 
 early and camping late, they preferred to start late and 
 camp early. They would like to take it leisurely, starting 
 at eight or nine o’clock, and going into camp at three or 
 four ; and when they saw us striding ahead, and thus forc- 
 ing them to follow, they began to murmur among them- 
 selves, and from murmurs proceeded to threats. So much 
 did they work upon the fears of the dragoman, that he 
 lost his head, and came to us in a panic of terror to tell us 
 that “ if we pressed the men so hard, they would leave us 
 and go home.” This was not a light danger to look in the 
 face. Had they executed such a threat, we should have 
 been like men in an open boat in mid-ocean. We should 
 have had to walk a hundred miles (not even knowing the 
 way) without food or water, with a good chance of leaving 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 233 
 
 our bodies on tlie desert, a prey to vultures and hyenas. 
 Such a spirit had to be stamped out on the instant. The 
 suggestion roused Dr. Pest, gentle as he is, and he turned 
 fiercely upon the dragoman : “ Yohanna, what do you 
 mean by talking to the men in this way, or listening to 
 them? The trouble is not with them : it is with you — 
 with your miserable cowardice ! Go about your business, 
 and look after the tents and the baggage, and leave the 
 men to me. I know the Arabs, and I will take care of 
 them.” Yohanna slunk off to the rear of the train, but 
 for several days he was in mortal fear lest we should be 
 left like a shipwrecked crew in the middle of the ocean. 
 
 Having silenced the dragoman, the Doctor turned to the 
 sheikh, and to dispose him to favor these long marches, ad- 
 dressed him in quite another fashion, enlarging on the num- 
 ber of his camels, which made him a man of great considera- 
 tion on the desert. He then drew upon his imagination for 
 a picture of myself, using well-flavored Oriental language. 
 He described me as a personage of great distinction, a 
 sort of prince in disguise (very much in disguise), who 
 was abroad in quest of knowledge, and who it was very 
 desirable should carry away high impressions of his coun- 
 try, and who (this was thrown in incidentally), whatever 
 his affluence or generosity, might, if disappointed or de- 
 layed in his progress, be less princely in his gifts than he 
 would otherwise be ! At the suggestion of backsheesh, 
 the old sheikh grew attentive and almost devout, and at 
 length answered with great solemnity, as if he had screw- 
 ed up his mind to the highest pitch of resolution, and only 
 needed Divine assistance, “ We have leaned upon God ” ! 
 
 This sheikh was quite a character. His mixture of 
 pious phrases with craft and cunning, his fervent appeals 
 to Heaven while keeping an eye on the main chance, 
 made him a good representative of his race. But for an 
 
234 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 Arab, be was not uninteHigent. He knew tbe desert as 
 tbe mariner knows tbe sea, and gave us mucb information 
 about tbe state of bis people. “ How do you manage to 
 live liere on tbe desert ? ” was one of our first inquiries. 
 “Well,” answered tbe sbeikb, “we make a few grindstones, 
 and bum a little charcoal, and if a man raises two or three 
 camels, be sells them.” “ But, does not tbe government 
 pay you for tbe protection you give to tbe pilgrims who 
 camp at Nukhl on their way to Mecca ? ” “ Tbe govern- 
 
 ment pay anything ? ” said tbe old man, and bis eyes 
 flashed as be answered bitterly : “ Tbe government would 
 take tbe grave-clothes off from tbe dead ! It pays for 
 nothing, but takes everything.” 
 
 Few of tbe Arabs can read and write. Yet in propor- 
 tion to their ignorance, is their reverence for what is 
 written or printed, which has to them such a superiority 
 to their own degree of knowledge as to be almost sacred 
 in their eyes. Thus when a question arose as to where we 
 must camp for tbe night, Dr. Post appealed to the map in 
 tbe guide-book. But tbe sbeikb shook bis bead ; it was 
 quite impossible for him to comprehend bow tbe relations 
 of dark lines on a map corresponded to tbe relations of 
 mountains, wadies, and plains. He did not know ; it 
 might be so ; but be could not understand it. “ But,” 
 said tbe Doctor with tbe tone of a man who produces an 
 argument which settles tbe matter, “is anything that is 
 printed in a book a be ? ” “ No, indeed,” said tbe old 
 
 man with a simphcity of faith dehghtful to witness, “ God 
 forbid ! ” 
 
 One evening as they were sitting round tbe camp-fire, 
 Dr. Post took tbe opportunity to ask about tbe laws of 
 bospitabty among tbe Bedaween. He said : “ If your 
 tribe was at war with another tribe, and you were to meet 
 one of that tribe alone on tbe desert, bow would you treat 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 235 
 
 him ? ” “ That would depend on how he came to ns. If 
 
 he came as an enemy, we should treat him as an enemy. 
 If he raised his spear, we should attack him, and perhaps 
 kill him or make him prisoner. But if he threw himself 
 upon our hospitality, we should do him no harm ; hut, . 
 on the contrary, we wordd defend him and protect him, 
 and conduct him in safety to the border of his tribe, and 
 let him depart in peace.” 
 
 When the Doctor came and reported to me this con- 
 versation, I felt that now at last we had found what 
 Diogenes looked for with his lantern — a man ! (I was 
 ready to forget how he took advantage of us in the con- 
 tract at Nuklil, and to think only of the present display of 
 virtue.) Here was an untutored child of nature, who had 
 never felt the restraining influences of civilization, and 
 who yet, out of the fountain of goodness within him, was 
 imbued with the noblest sentiments that could inspire the 
 human breast. If he was not a Christian, he was the 
 highest type of Moslem, having the natural instincts of 
 justice, with the added virtue of hospitality prescribed by 
 his religion. 
 
 After this it was a little discouraging to hear the drago- 
 man say that this same old sheikh was himself a notorious 
 robber, and had helped himself to the property of others 
 to such good purpose that he was now the possessor of 
 two hundred camels ! “ Did you not see those camels on 
 
 the hills as you approached the camp ? They all belong 
 to him, and are in great part spoil which he has thus 
 obtained.” I knew that the wealth of the desert was in 
 camels. Whan a man has twenty or thirty, his great 
 desire is more camels 1 He sells off some of the males, and 
 keeps the females for breeding. If that does not supply 
 him fast enough, he can replenish his herd by a judicious 
 raid into the territory of his neighbor. But to think that 
 
236 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 our virtuous old slieikh could thus enrich himself ! Yet 
 that very evening, at another of the camp-fires -where we 
 were not present, he boasted that several years before he 
 had executed a great raid towards Mecca, as the fruit of 
 which he brought back some forty camels ! This was a 
 pilgrimage to Mecca to some profit. In his view this was 
 the great achievement of his life. 
 
 These marauding expeditions are the chief excitement 
 of the desert, and a source of perpetual fighting between 
 different sheikhs and different tribes. A man who makes 
 a business of robbing must of course take the chances of 
 war, and not complain if now and then he is robbed him- 
 self. He who does not hesitate to kill, must take his 
 chances of being killed. We had at hand this very mo- 
 ment an illustration of the blood feud. Just now Dr. Post 
 rode up, and said that his cameleer had an affair of honor 
 on his hands. A few days since his brother was with oth- 
 ers tending a herd of camels which had been driven to 
 pasturage ground south of Hebron, when a party from an- 
 other tribe, probably from near the Dead Sea, came upon 
 them, and stole the camels, and killed his brother. Now 
 his only thought is of revenge. As soon as he returns 
 from being with us, he will muster some of his clan, and 
 set out to make a raid in return. He will hope to re- 
 cover his camels, but his one object in life will be to kill 
 somebody in revenge for his brother ! 
 
 When we heard that our own sheikh was a robber, we 
 were grieved to the heart, as when one learns something 
 to the reproach of a well-beloved - friend : for had we not 
 sat at his camp-tire, and taken sweet counsel together? 
 Such a disappointment was calculated to shake our faith 
 in human nature. Our - ideal was destroyed ; our idol was 
 cast down to the ground. As Washington said after the 
 treason of Arnold, “ Whom can we trust now ? ” so could 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 237 
 
 we say, How can we ever believe again in an Arab slieikh 
 as a model of virtue ? 
 
 The next morning, as if to show how virtue (!) is 
 rewarded in this world, there came by our tent at sunrise 
 a great herd of camels, which belonged to our friend the 
 sheikh, and were the reward of his “ industry ” ! They 
 were being driven to new pastures, having exhausted their 
 late grounds. It was a very picturesque sight. There 
 were camels of all sizes and all ages, large and small, old 
 and young — some were very young, mere babies. I ob- 
 served that the old camels had large humps, and was told 
 that when they are not used, but are left at pasture, their 
 humps increase in size. They were accompanied by their 
 herdsmen, who were all dressed in sheepskins, like the 
 shepherds on the Campagna around Rome. Following 
 on soon after, we overtook them as they were roaming 
 over the hills. I think the sheikh had a new saddle- 
 beast brought to him to ride, for he suddenly appeared 
 mounted on a young, swift dromedary. While we were 
 moving along at a slow and solemn pace, he dashed up at 
 full speed, and rode by as if in a charge of battle. His 
 legs and feet were bare, but he had on a red tunic under 
 his coarse goat’s-hair cloak, and there was a touch of finery 
 in the housings of his saddle. He presented quite a mili- 
 tary figure, with his gun slung behind his back, and his 
 pistol in his belt, as he rode by at full gallop, and disap- 
 peared over the crest of a hill. As he passed, I observed 
 sticking up behind him what I took to be a sheep’s head, 
 but what proved to be a little camel, born only the day 
 before, which he had slung by his saddle, and carried 
 off, while the poor mother followed behind, lowing and 
 groaning mournfully. As the whole herd was on a day’s 
 march to find pasture, and as this new-born baby could 
 not walk, it was thus carried. After a time the sheikh 
 
238 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 took it out of the sack, and put it on the ground, when the 
 poor mother nursed it with great satisfaction. 
 
 These little camels were a great amusement to us. We 
 had one in our camp but a few weeks old, the offspring of 
 one of our saddle-beasts, that followed its mother all the 
 way to Gaza, six days march. Like the young of all ani- 
 mals, it had a certain prettiness that did not belong to the 
 huge form of the full-grown camel. But it had none of 
 the fun and frolic of a young colt. The solemnity of that 
 little creature was overpowering. Once or twice the Doc- 
 tor tried to stir it up to play, but it made no response 
 to these attentions, except to rise up slowly and move off a 
 few paces, as if in silent protest against such familiarities. 
 He gave it up, concluding that the love of fun and play 
 was wholly wanting in the camel, whose “ moral nature ” 
 seems to be subdued to the endless monotony of the desert. 
 
 The following day the sheikh left us with many salaams 
 and benedictions. After cheating us all he could, he gave 
 us his blessing, like some men that are not Bedaween. It 
 was truly delightful, after we had been robbed, to have 
 the man who had robbed us willing to part on the best of 
 terms, hoping to meet us again, and renew our pleasant 
 relations ! We were touched by the assurance of his dis- 
 tinguished consideration. The old man wished us Peace : 
 what more could we ask ? He gave us his blessing : 
 may it do us good ! * 
 
 * My recollection of two notable personages who appear 
 in these pages — the Sheikh of the tribe of the Tayyahah and 
 the Governor of Nukhl — has been quickened by recent intel- 
 ligence, which renders it quite probable that both were con- 
 cerned in the massacre of Professor Palmer and his party, an 
 event which has created such a profound feeling in England, 
 on account of the character of the men who suffered this ter- 
 rible fate. Edward Henry Palmer was one of the first Oriental 
 scholars in England. In the University of Cambridge he was 
 
ILLNESS QN THE DESERT. 
 
 239 
 
 As we were getting farther North, the country was not 
 so utterly uninhabited. Now and then we descried in the 
 distance a party of Bedaween, mounted on their camels, 
 coming toward us at full sail. As they came up out of 
 the horizon, like ships out of the sea, Dr. Post would ex- 
 claim “ There come the Midianites ! ” for indeed I suppose 
 these men of the desert, in race and costume, as in the 
 
 a Professor of Arabic, of which he was master, besides being 
 familiar with other languages of the Farther East, translating 
 poems from the Persian, and reading and speaking Hindustanee. 
 He had made a special study of the Peninsula of Sinai, having been 
 with the Survey Expedition in 1868-69, and also in charge of an 
 exploring party in the Desert of the Wandering, and the South 
 Country, and Moab, in 1869-70. The result of his explorations 
 was a work of great value on “The Desert of the Exodus.” 
 He was well known to the sheikhs and the tribes on the 
 desert. So familiar indeed had his face become that he bore 
 the name of Sheikh Abdallah. Probably it was this familiarity 
 with the country and its inhabitants which gave him confidence 
 that he could go anywhere with safety, and thus led him into 
 such peril and to death. Soon after the commencement of the 
 present war, he offered his services to the English Government 
 to make a journey into the interior. It is said that he was going 
 to Nukhl to meet the sheikh ; and that he took with him three 
 thousand pounds for the purchase of camels, to be used for trans- 
 portation by the Indian Contingent that was to arrive at Suez; 
 and which, instead of joining the English troops at Ismailia, 
 was to execute a separate movement across the desert to Cairo. 
 Whatever his purpose, it was a rash undertaking to venture 
 among these fierce tribes at a moment when they were greatly 
 excited by the war. He was accompanied by two officers, Capt. 
 Gill and Lieut. Charrington, who had had experience in such expe- 
 ditions. But their enterprise was soon to come to an end. They 
 had made but a single day’s march from the Wells of Moses to 
 Wady Sudr, the place of our first encampment on the desert. 
 From this wady a pass leads through the mountain range 
 towards Nukhl, which probably Professor Palmer was to take. 
 As the party reached this camping -ground, they found the 
 
240 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 beasts they rode, were not very unlike the Midianites who 
 bought Joseph of his brethren and sold him into Egypt. 
 We met also several parties of the Tawarah tribe return- 
 ing from Gaza, loaded with grain, two sacks to a camel, 
 each sack containing several bushels. Their appearance 
 was such as we suppose that of the sons of Jacob to 
 have been when they went down into Egypt to buy com. 
 
 Bedaween gathering around them in dangerous numbers, threat- 
 ening an attack. But as it was dark, and the Arabs did not know 
 what force the English had, they threw a cordon round them, 
 and waited until morning, when, seeing how few they were, they 
 went in and took them prisoners, and conducted them to a rough 
 place in the mountains, to the edge of a precipice, and gave 
 them their choice — to throw themselves over or be shot. It is 
 said that Prof. Palmer — who is described as a shy, timid man, 
 with the look of the Professor that he was, spectacled and nerv- 
 ous — covered his face with his hands, and took the fatal leap ; 
 while Capt. Gill and Lieut. Charrington, with the instinct of sol- 
 diers, chose to be shot, and fell with their face to the foe. Their 
 bodies were then thrown over the precipice. 
 
 This terrible affair was for some time unknown ; but as no 
 report was received from the expedition, alarm began to be felt, 
 and Col. Warren, with a force large enough fur its own pro- 
 tection, was sent in search. The fate of the missing party was 
 soon learned, as the bodies of the murdered men were found in 
 the ravine below the precipice where they perished. It is said 
 that Col. Warren found the desert full of hostility; that scouts 
 and messengers whom he sent out were killed ; and that his 
 own party was threatened with attack. Among their important 
 discoveries was a letter of the Governor of Nukhl, proving that 
 he gave the order for the massacx - e ! From my very vivid recol- 
 lection of the old wretch who commanded the fort, as well as of 
 the crafty sheikh into whose hands we fell, I am not at all sur- 
 prised at the report that both were concerned in it. If this be 
 proved, it is to be hoped that they and all the leaders will be 
 taken and executed. Without a punishment severe enough to 
 strike awe into the tribes, English and American travellers will 
 hardly dare to make the trip across the desert. 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 241 
 
 Probably they took the old caravan route from Syria to 
 Egypt — a journey that need not have taken more time 
 than the twenty-four days now required for the camel’s 
 pace from Sinai to Gaza and back again. 
 
 It is one of the chief pleasures of this desert travelling, 
 that it brings before us so vividly the mode of life of patri- 
 archal times : for the world does not change on the desert, 
 and men live now as they lived thousands of years ago. 
 Abraham was a sheikh — not in character like the one from 
 whom we have just parted, but in appearance perhaps not 
 unlike a sheikh who may be seen now and then, aged and 
 venerable, with long and snowy beard falling on his breast. 
 He was a prince of the desert, rich in camels and asses, 
 and flocks and herds, and men-servants and maid-servants. 
 The custom by which he held his servants is the same 
 which exists to-day. One of the men that accompanied 
 us from Nukhl was a black who belonged to the sheikh — 
 yet not a slave, as the dragoman was careful to explain, 
 but “ a servant born in his house,” and entitled by usage, 
 if not by written law, to certain privileges, which date 
 from the earliest times. 
 
 While we were thus on the march, making our obser- 
 vations, and our comparisons of that which now is with 
 that which has been, we had other experiences of a seri- 
 ous character to which I must refer, if it were only as 
 a lesson and warning to future travellers. If these de- 
 scriptions of life on the desert should lead others to follow 
 me, I must insist that they take the utmost precautions : 
 for while the journey is one of extraordinary interest, 
 it is also one of very great fatigue. The fatigue alone 
 would be nothing, if one could he down after a day’s 
 march, and get thoroughly rested. But on the desert the 
 pressure is incessant to keep moving. There is no spot 
 that invites to rest ; no quiet wayside inn, no cooling 
 
242 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 shade, attracts the weary traveller. Herein lies the dan- 
 ger, that this succession of forced marches will finally 
 bring on utter exhaustion. To this danger we were espe- 
 cially exposed, from the long route we took. Merely to 
 go from Suez to Sinai and return, is comparatively easy : 
 for that is but six days either way, and the traveller can 
 rest at Sinai a week if he chooses before he begins his 
 homeward march. But when the time of the return jour- 
 ney is doubled, the exposure is quadrupled ; for the pro- 
 cess of exhaustion goes on in a compound ratio, and is 
 very likely to end in illness, which in this helpless situa- 
 tion, utterly separated from all chance of relief, at once 
 becomes a serious matter. I had once had a narrow 
 escape. The day after the ascent of Serbal, I was com- 
 pletely used up, and that night was threatened with fever ; 
 and now Dr. Post, who was so wiry and active, and who 
 seemed incapable of fatigue, was in danger of breaking 
 down. 
 
 On the second day after leaving Nuklrl, we attempted 
 a forced march, starting at six o’clock, so that by eleven 
 we had done what we ought to have been satisfied with 
 doing by noon. We had been five hours in the saddle, 
 and had done the half of a full day’s work. I then 
 observed for the first time the Doctor’s spirits flag. He 
 dismounted, and threw himself under a juniper bush with 
 a look of exhaustion that I had never seen in him before, 
 and told me to ride on, and that he would soon join me. 
 I thought my place was beside him under that juniper 
 bush. Could our friends at home have seen us at that 
 moment, they would have felt an anxiety which they were 
 happily spared, since they did not hear of it till it was all 
 over. 
 
 After an horn - and a half, we started again, riding and 
 walking by turns till a little after four o’clock, when we 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 243 
 
 came to a beautiful spot for a camp. As soon as we were 
 off the camels, the Doctor took shelter under a large bush 
 till the baggage train should come up. It always seemed 
 to move very slowly when we were waiting impatiently for 
 it. As soon as the tents were pitched, he lay down on his 
 cot with an expression of utter weariness. He was very 
 hot, and could take only a glass of lemonade to cool the 
 fever that seemed to be burning in his veins. When din- 
 ner was served, he took a little soup, and went directly to 
 bed. I covered him up, and tried to perform the part of 
 nurse as well as I could, yet all the while feeling most 
 painfully my utter helplessness. 
 
 That night I was in great anxiety : for the bare possi- 
 bility of an illness on the desert was enough to awaken the 
 most serious apprehensions. Had I been the sick one, 
 my companion was an experienced and skilful physician, 
 and would know what to do. He too could speak Arabic, 
 and could give directions to our men. I had just as much 
 knowledge of medicine as of Arabic — that is to say, I knew 
 nothing of eitliei’ — while the dragoman and cook were as 
 ignorant as the Bedaween themselves. The only possible 
 hope of relief would be to send to Gaza, which was four 
 days’ march. Four days there and four days back — eight 
 days — that would seem like an eternity while waiting on 
 the desert. In that time all our supplies of food would be 
 exhausted, so that we should be in danger of dying by - 
 starvation, if we did not by fever. We were in a spot 
 where we could not get a drop of water for ourselves or 
 our camels. One shudders to think what might happen 
 in such a time ! But thanks to the sick man’s skilful 
 treatment of himself, the night passed with no increase of 
 fever. 
 
 The next morning we did not strike our tents at sunrise, 
 and yet somehow that horn - always gave me a touch of 
 
244 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 fever — a fever to which I am subject, the fever of impa- 
 tience. Nothing chafes me like forced inaction. After 
 walking out to look at the clouds, which were threaten- 
 ing, I returned to the tent to find my friend still very 
 weak. What should be done? Should he rest here for 
 the day, or make a staid, even if he could go only a short 
 distance ? At last he rose heavily and wearily, and brac- 
 ing himself with a strong dose of quinine, mounted his 
 camel. As soon as he was in the saddle, his spirits began 
 to rise. The fresh air and the motion gave him new life. 
 But wbat relieved my fears was to see his old passiqn for 
 flowers kindle at the sight of some new specimens which 
 he could gather for his collection of the Flora of the 
 Desert. He could not resist the attraction of a new plant, 
 and I verily believe, if he had been in articulo mortis, that 
 the sight of a new flower brought to his bedside would 
 have caused a smile of satisfaction to spread over his 
 dying features. Of course I took courage from seeing 
 him revive, and from the rebound of feeling, entered with 
 new joy into the scenes that opened before us. As we 
 rose upon a ridge that divided two wadies, there was a 
 view of mountains in the distance that was so striking that 
 I reined in my camel to take a long and steady look, and 
 then called the cameleer to hold her till I could put down 
 some notes, as an artist takes a hurried sketch of a scene 
 which he fears will escape him forever. Many of the notes 
 here written out were thus taken on the back of my camel. 
 If they have any merit, it is because they were taken on 
 the spot, and reproduce, as nearly as it is in my power to 
 do it, the exact scenes and impressions of the moment. 
 
 At noon we halted beside a spring, which is supposed 
 by some explorers to be the Fountain of Hagar, perhaps 
 because it is the only one found in the region. It was the 
 first time we had seen a drop of water since we left Nukhl, 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 245 
 
 and this was the third day’s march. The mere suggestion 
 is a touching one : for in ail the mournful tales of the des- 
 ert, none is sadder than the story of Hagar, driven from 
 the tent of Abraham, and fleeing with her child into the 
 wilderness, and there ready to perish with thirst, when 
 saved by a spring that burst forth in the sand, perhaps the 
 same which was now bubbling up at our feet. 
 
 This afternoon we passed over a succession of barren 
 hills, the very abomination of desolation. But no matter, 
 every step that we take brings us nearer home ! Already 
 my friend sees, though afar off, the signs of change. When 
 he first came upon the squill plant, he could not restrain 
 his excitement. “ That plant,” he said, “ is never found 
 except near the sea, or at least within the reach of the salt 
 ah'. We are approaching the Mediterranean. It may be 
 yet fifty or sixty miles off, but we are getting near it.” 
 How delightful is this enthusiasm of the man of science, 
 which can make him forget illness and the fatigues of the 
 desert ! 
 
 But here the enthusiasm of the botanist outwent the 
 strength of the man, and that night when we reached 
 camp, after ten hours’ march, I feared he would break 
 down utterly. There was a deep sadness in his tone as he 
 said : “ If I am not better to-morrow, I cannot move.” I 
 never passed a night of greater anxiety in my life. All 
 the horrors of the situation came upon me. I imagined 
 myself arriving at Gaza alone, obliged to telegraph to 
 Beirut and to Florence that my companion had died on 
 the desert ! These may seem wild imaginings, born of 
 anxiety and fear ; but let any man be thus alone with a 
 sick friend in the heart of the desert, and see if his 
 thoughts are not as black as the midnight above his tent. 
 
 The morning found him in no condition to move. “ If 
 I were at home,” he said, “ I should not only not leave my 
 
246 
 
 THE OLD SHEIKH. 
 
 house, I should not leave my bed.” The day opened dark 
 and dreary ; there were clouds all round the horizon, and 
 a storm seemed to he coming on. Under that lowering 
 sky, to put a sick man on a camel for a day’s march 
 seemed like madness, and yet there was almost equal 
 danger in lingering here. We had to decide promptly. 
 Bad as the case was, I insisted that we must start and go 
 as far as we could. I do not think he would have raised 
 his head from the pillow that day if he had not seen the 
 look on my face. But seeing in me something which 
 seemed to speak of a desperate necessity, he rose up once 
 more as if to take his last ride. How he went through 
 that day, I can only explain by this, that on the desert, as 
 on the sea, men “ cry unto the Lord in their troubles, and 
 He bringeth them out of their distresses.” 
 
 All the morning we were looking for rain. By the 
 rules of storms it ought to have rained. The Doctor 
 proved it, (a man of science is nothing if not scientific,) 
 for he had a perfect theory of storms. He took the map, 
 and showed how the hot air of Africa, coming from the 
 Sahara, strikes the Mediterranean, and drinks up clouds 
 full of rain, which descend on the neighboring coasts. 
 We were now in the rainy belt, and by good right it 
 should, would, and must rain. So we should have had it 
 if the elements had done their duty. I rallied him pleas- 
 antly for his confident prediction, too happy if I could 
 bring a smile on his dear, sad face. For my paid, I pre- 
 ferred to walk by faith and sight, instead of theory, and 
 not flee before the storm until it came ; and as a land 
 Providence would have it, in an hour or two the sky 
 cleared, and we had a beautiful day, all the better for the 
 clouds that tempered the heat of the sun. 
 
 And now at last we were rewarded for our perseverance 
 in the march. The character of the country changed. We 
 
ILLNESS ON THE DESERT. 
 
 2±7 
 
 were coming up out of the desert : we were getting nearer 
 the sea. These great ridges of sand are the dunes of a sea 
 coast. Indeed the dear Doctor traced them farther — to 
 the same Sahara which is the source of storms, from which 
 they are blown into the sea, and earned along by currents 
 setting eastward to the southern bend of the coast of the 
 Mediterranean, where, washed up on the shore and dried 
 by the sun, they are again lifted by the winds, and borne 
 thus far into the interior. 
 
 In the afternoon we came into a broad land, not cut up 
 by naiTow wadies — a wide, open, rolling country, of long 
 sweeps and gentle undulations, that might be as beautiful 
 as the breezy downs of England, if only these were clothed 
 with vegetation. That too increases : it is more to-day 
 than since we entered the Desert of the Wandering. 
 Flowers bloom more abundantly. The eye of my friend 
 gleamed with pleasure as he caught sight of the lily, or 
 asphodel, and of the Star of Bethlehem. We are now 
 fairly in the South Country, the portion of Canaan set 
 apart to the tribe of Simeon, where, although the patches 
 of cultivation are as yet few and scattered, there is good 
 pasture-ground for flocks and herds. And so He who led 
 the Israelites across the Great and Terrible Wilderness, 
 has now, over the same burning desert-, brought Wo weary 
 pilgrims to the borders of the Promised Land. 
 
CHAPTEB xym. 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 Ever since we left Nukhl, we liad had occasional hints 
 from our dragoman that by-and-by we should get into a 
 region in which it might not be quite as smooth sailing as 
 on the desert, where we had seen no man in five days. 
 But as he was a timid and fearful soul, we attached little 
 weight to his dismal forebodings. Had he not told us a 
 story to make our hair stand on end, about flying ser- 
 pents that we should find at Nukhl : how once, when he 
 camped on the plain, he had heard them whizzing past 
 him ? Possibly there may have been some foundation for 
 the story in the existence of reptiles of such powerful 
 spring as to throw themselves several lengths, but we saw 
 no more of them than of the fiery serpents that infested 
 the camp of Moses. However, much as we were disposed 
 to laugh at his fears, we had observed, as we met several 
 parties going Southward with camels heavily laden with 
 supplies for the Convent at Mount Sinai, that they always 
 went in large bodies, as if for mutual protection, and were 
 told that whenever there was a small party, it took the old 
 caravan route by the sea, to avoid the tribes through which 
 we were now to pass. 
 
 The bare suggestion of robbers was of a kind to keep 
 our faculties awake and our eyes open, to recognize any 
 strangers who might present themselves to offer the com- 
 pliments of the season. Having received these intima- 
 tions, it was natural to connect with them certain casual 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 249 
 
 meetings, which might in other circumstances lead to a 
 closer acquaintance. The day that we entered the South 
 Country, several such appeared, who had nothing in par- 
 ticular to say, but who seemed to scan our party with an 
 eye to business. One savage-looking fellow followed the 
 dragoman and myself some distance, as we had dismount- 
 ed from our camels, and were walking in the rear of the 
 train. He was well armed, and as I looked back over my 
 shoulder, I had the pleasing consciousness that he was a 
 robber, who, if I had been alone, might have entered at 
 once on the practice of his profession. Perhaps he was 
 merely a scout for some larger party — “prospecting/’ as 
 miners would say — taking in the situation so as to report 
 to his master ; or ready, if a good chance offered, to do a 
 little stroke of business “ on his own hook.” After following 
 us an hour, he rode off, whether to report to some robber- 
 chief that the Howadjis were coming, we could not tell, 
 though we had our suspicions the next day. 
 
 That night the dragoman informed us that we were 
 now fairly in the enemy’s country, and must set a watch 
 for the night. It was the first time since leaving Suez that 
 we had found such precautions necessary, though the officer 
 in command at Nukhl had sent a file of soldiers to mount 
 guard before our tents. We knew that there were Beda- 
 ween in the neighborhood : for some of our party saw at a 
 distance the smoke of a camp-fire, and scarcely had we 
 pitched our tents before we heard on a hill not far away 
 the barking of a dog ! How that sound startled us m the 
 silence of the wilderness ! This, we thought, did not come 
 from an encampment, but from a village, as we had seen in 
 the afternoon children driving little donkeys loaded with 
 water-skins, which they had filled at some spring. We saw 
 also a small patch of cultivated ground. These signs of hab- 
 itation raised a mingled feeling : for we knew not whether 
 
250 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 the strangers were friends or foes. We endeavored to con- 
 ceal our presence as well as we could, camping in a little 
 liollow between two ridges of the undulating country. As 
 soon as dinner was served, the fires were put out, so as not 
 to attract the notice of spies or of strolling parties, and 
 then the men turned their attention to making all fast for 
 the night. The dragoman sought to quiet our apprehen- 
 sion by saying that the Bedaween would not be likely 
 to attack so large a party, and in any event would not 
 be so eager to rob us as to rob our Arabs : for that they 
 would covet the camels more than our worldly goods. But 
 that was a very poor way of reassuring us : for we could 
 much better afford to lose our money or our watches than 
 our beasts of burden, which furnished our only means of 
 getting through the country. To lose them would be a 
 terrible blow, as it would leave us on the border of the 
 desert, without any power of locomotion. So the camels 
 were to be guarded as our very life. The men understood 
 the matter perfectly, and did not mean to leave anything 
 exposed. Accordingly, although the camels were turned 
 loose to crop the scanty herbage for an hour, while the 
 men were getting their supper, instead of being left out 
 as usual for the night, they were all brought into camp, 
 and stretching themselves on the ground, had their legs 
 firmly bound so that they could not move, unless an Arab 
 were to steal up in the darkness like an Indian, and cut 
 the ropes, and “ stampede ” them before an alarm could 
 be given, and the men rallied for defence. To guard 
 against such a surprise, the men divided themselves into 
 two parties, which should relieve each other through the 
 night. This done, the dragoman assumed a protecting 
 and patronizing tone : “ Never you fear ; we are used to 
 this sort of thing, and will keep watch. You go to bed 
 and sleep quietly.” We did go to bed, and slept off and 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 251 
 
 on, though we woke a dozen times, and listened with ears 
 attent, hut heard nothing save the footsteps of our own 
 men, who were creeping about like stealthy Indians all 
 night long, keeping a sharp lookout for the approach of 
 any hostile party, and thus watching for our safety as well 
 as their own. 
 
 As soon as the sun was up, we dismissed our fears, 
 and smiled at the imaginary dangers of the night ; and 
 Dr. Post and I were about to start out as usual in ad- 
 vance, he to botanize, and I to get a breath of morning air, 
 leaving the baggage-camels to load up and follow, when 
 poor Yohanna came rushing after us, and shouting in the 
 wildest manner, “ Gentlemen, do not stir until we are all 
 ready to move together ! You must not venture beyond 
 the limits of the camp. "We have come so far in safety; 
 do not let us have a disaster at the very end of our jour- 
 ney ! ” We yielded to his entreaties, rather to quiet him 
 than because we saw any special need of such extreme pre- 
 caution. In a few minutes the pack camels were ready, 
 and we all moved off in Indian file together. 
 
 The wisdom of his caution was soon apparent. As we 
 came up out of the hollow where our tents had been 
 pitched for the night, we rose over a swell of ground 
 which again subsided into a gentle depression, only to rise 
 again at the distance of perhaps a quarter of a mile, like 
 the rise and fall of a rolling prairie. We had passed over 
 the ascent, and nearly crossed the valley between, the 
 Doctor and I leading the way, when suddenly as a flash of 
 lightning, there sprang over the height on the other side, 
 a party which claimed our immediate attention. It was 
 composed of five men, two of whom were mounted on 
 horses (!) — the first we had seen since we left Cairo — and 
 three on foot. Instantly they threw themselves into posi- 
 tion — recalling to Dr. Post what he had often seen in the 
 
252 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 war, when a skirmish line was thrown forward so that 
 each one could support the others, prepared alike for 
 attack or defence. Two of the men on foot carried guns, 
 one of whom instantly fell (of course, by pure accident) 
 behind a bush, on which he could rest his musket. Their 
 leader was a fierce-looking son of the desert, with all the 
 dashing air of the daring brigand. He carried in his hand 
 a spear, fifteen or sixteen feet long, pointed at both ends. 
 They had evidently been on the watch for ns, and came 
 upon us with a spring and a bound, like a tiger on his 
 prey. There could be no mistake this time ; at last we 
 were face to face with the robbers ! 
 
 We drew up and halted. I was on the side nearest 
 the chief of the party, who darted at me a quick, eager 
 glance, as he rose on his horse with uplifted spear. I 
 turned to look for our camels, which were scattered along 
 behind us. They came on very slowly, lumbering over the 
 hill ; but still they came, and every moment brought them 
 nearer. Ibrahim’s old soldier with his rusty sword hurried 
 up, as if he smelt the battle from afar, and the men with 
 their match-locks were close behind him. The weapons I 
 had so much despised before, had found their vocation 
 now. The robber’s glance followed mine, and he took in 
 the situation in an instant. Meanwhile my cameleer had 
 left me and advanced for a parley, and the two exchanged 
 a few whispered words. It is said the tribes have a sort 
 of freemasonry among them, by which a traveller who has 
 paid tribute to one (as we had done when we paid the 
 heavy blackmail at Nukhl) is allowed to pass through 
 another, unless the two be at war. However this may be, 
 any hospitable intent on the robber’s part was strength- 
 ened by a sight of the force he would have to encounter ; 
 and so, making a virtue of necessity, this gallant knight of 
 the road lowered his spear, and called aloud “ Howadjis ! ” 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 253 
 
 (I can hear his voice now) signifying with a majestic wave 
 of his hand that we were at liberty to proceed. We did 
 not wait for a second invitation. The robber then turned 
 with his attendant horseman and dashed away, followed 
 by his men-at-arms. I touched my hat to him with all 
 the grace I could command, as well pleased to give him 
 this parting salute as if I had received his most affectionate 
 embrace. Indeed I never said good-bye to a friend with 
 more pleasure in my life. 
 
 This whole scene had passed so quickly that it was all 
 over before we could fully realize what it meant. We had 
 had a narrow escape. If we had started from camp in 
 disregard of the warnings of the dragoman, and had been 
 fifteen minutes ahead of our convoy, we should have been 
 “ done for ” so neatly and quickly that we should hardly 
 have known what had happened to us till we were left 
 by the roadside. I do not suppose we stood in much 
 personal danger — that is, unless we made resistance. The 
 Arabs prefer not to shed blood, because they have a mortal 
 dread of a blood-feud, which may pursue them for years. 
 Therefore they prefer not to take life, if they can avoid it ; 
 but if we had shown a sign of resistance, such as drawing 
 a pistol, probably we should have been killed on the spot. 
 If we submitted quietly, we should have suffered nothing 
 worse than the loss of all we possessed. The robbers 
 seem to pride themselves on doing their work thoroughly, 
 and will “ clean out ” the most plethoric traveller in a way 
 / that will leave him with no temptation to extravagance in 
 his’ expenses for the rest of his journey. They would have 
 taken our money, watches, and probably most of the gar- 
 ments we wore, unless the stripping us would detain them 
 too long till the arrival of our party. Of course they would 
 have seized the camels we rode unless they feared that the 
 slow-moving beasts would impede them in their escape. 
 
254 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 That this is not an exaggerated impression of the risk 
 we ran, could be shown by the experience of any number 
 of travellers. When I was at Damascus, dining one day at 
 the house of the missionary, Rev. Mr. Crawford, he related 
 his experience. It was in the Summer-time, and his family 
 were away from the city at a retreat in the mountains, 
 where he was to join them, and for the pleasure of the ex- 
 cursion had started on foot. Stopping for a few minutes at 
 a spring by the wayside, suddenly a party of Bedaween came 
 upon him, and seizing him roughly, demanded “Where’s 
 your money ? ” That taken, they relieved him of his watch, 
 and then began to disrobe him, one taking his hat and an- 
 other his coat. When it came to his waistcoat, he mildly 
 remonstrated, saying that “ it would be of no use to them, 
 and they had better leave it to him,” to which one replied by 
 striking him on the mouth. By this time he was in a dilapi- 
 dated condition, when one came up, and seeing that he still 
 had shoes on his feet, ordered him to take them off. If any 
 fiery but foolish American wonders how he could submit to 
 this without resistance, I answer, The robbers were fifteen 
 to one, and this submission was his only safety. He said 
 “ I generally carried a revolver on such excursions, but this 
 time I had left it at home, and to this probably I owed my life. 
 If I had had it, the impulse would have been to seize it and 
 fire, when I should have been run through the body in an 
 instant.” As it was, his life was spared, and they left, as 
 garments to cover him, his shirt, pantaloons, and stockings ! 
 All this scene took place near a threshing-floor, where men 
 were working, but who did not dare to interfere. As soon 
 as the robbers were gone, they took pity on him who had 
 fallen among thieves, and let him sleep on their threshing- 
 floor, and provided him in the morning with an Arab cos- 
 tume, which he put on, and a few hours after presented him- 
 self to his wife arrayed as she had never seen him before. 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 255 
 
 Philosophizing a little, as I am apt to do, on my varied 
 experiences “ as I walk through the wilderness of this 
 world,” I find that this business of robbing, as practised 
 by the Bedaween, is not from the love of violence for its 
 own sake, nor the act of specially wicked natures, as might 
 be similar crimes committed in civilized society, but is 
 grounded in a deep philosophy. Every man, civilized 
 or savage, has a theory of life, written or unwritten, and 
 the theory of the Bedawee is that no man has a right to 
 property which he is bound to respect. It may be best 
 not to press his prior claim ; it may be prudent to keep out 
 of the reach of the law ; but if a good opportunity presents 
 itself, he is restrained by no conscientious scruple. Might 
 makes right, and he 
 
 Follows the good old plan, 
 
 That he should take who has the power. 
 
 And he should keep who can. 
 
 The Arab makes a fine distinction between stealing 
 and robbing. He is not a thief, and you cannot offer 
 him a greater insult than by making such a suggestion. 
 If you were to fling such a taunt in the face of a proud 
 sheikh, he would very likely answer you with the point of 
 his spear. A thief is one who creeps behind your back, 
 or into your tent, and rifles your pockets — a practice to 
 which the low, base-born Fellah might stoop, but which 
 the proud Bedawee would scorn. He is a lofty, high- 
 minded robber, who meets you on the desert face to face, 
 and if he attacks you, gives you the opportunity to defend 
 yourself, and if he despoils you, it is by a right which is 
 recognized in all nations, the right of the strongest. He 
 takes your goods, but he takes them in open and honorable 
 battle. 
 
 Of course, we might say that our knight of the road 
 who met us this morning, took us at a disadvantage, com- 
 
256 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 ing upon us alone and unarmed, while lie and his men 
 were armed to the teeth. But he would answer “ Why 
 were you not armed ? It is the business of every man to 
 be ready to defend himself on all occasions, and if he is 
 not, and suffers for it, he has nobody but himself to 
 blame.” 
 
 With such a theory, it is not strange that robbery 
 should be regarded not only as honorable, but as above all 
 others the profession of a gentleman, as is the profession 
 of arms in civilized countries. The Bedaween hire the 
 Fellaheen to cultivate their fields — that is work fit for 
 slaves ; but for the chief of a tribe, the one pursuit in life 
 that fires his ambition is to mount the finest Arabian steed, 
 to poise the longest and sharpest lance, and ride abroad, 
 like a knight of chivalry, in search of adventures. When 
 one thinks of all this, he must feel that it would be almost 
 an honor to be robbed by such a hero ! 
 
 And yet I fear our dragoman did not take this view of 
 the case : for the incident of this morning produced a 
 deep impression on him, and he renewed his entreaties to 
 us to keep together. But it was hard to keep Dr. Post in 
 line : for just then he spied some of the wild flowers of 
 Palestine, and at once gave a dig at his camel, and started 
 off in pursuit. The vicious old creature did not appreciate 
 the claims of science, and roared her disapprobation. But 
 her master forced her on, and then brought her back, and 
 we straggled on together. Our attention was soon diverted 
 to the beauty of the country we were entering. The bills 
 broadened down and the valleys rose, till the undulations 
 were like the long swells of the ocean. Gradually the 
 landscape assumed an aspect of fertility. Rising over a 
 gentle ascent, behold a field of barley that was fresh and 
 green ! How beautiful it looked in contrast with the deso- 
 lation over which we had passed ! There were also more 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 257 
 
 signs of human habitation, in frequent clusters of the 
 black tents of the Arabs. We were now descending from 
 the hills to the plains. Far behind us was the range which 
 bounded the Desert of the Wandering, while before us 
 opened the great Plain of Philistia. My companion was 
 full of the history, as well as of the flora, of this region. 
 “We are now entering,” he said, “ one of the great histori- 
 cal plains of the world — one which has been trodden by all 
 the conquerors from Alexander to Napoleon. And long 
 before Alexander, Cambyses the Persian crossed this plain 
 to invade Egypt ; and marching the other way, came the 
 armies of Pharaoh Necho, to invade Syria. And so back 
 and forth has the wave of conquest flowed and reflowed 
 between Asia and Africa — between the empires on the 
 banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates, and that on the 
 banks of the Nile.” 
 
 So discoursed my friend while I listened with eager 
 interest, so absorbed that I did not notice that we had got 
 a mile ahead of the greater part of our camels, when we 
 heard behind us a voice shouting and a man running 
 toward us. Fearing that some accident had happened to 
 our baggage train, we waited till he should come up. 
 When he appeared, I perceived that he was a huge negro, 
 with teeth that were like tusks, and who had altogether a 
 repulsive aspect, like one of those brutish-looking creatures 
 that may now and then be seen guarding the harems of 
 Cairo and Constantinople. As soon as he came up, he signi- 
 fied by loud voice and vehement gestures that we could not 
 proceed any further ; that we were now in the territory of 
 another tribe, and could not pass without paying tribute ; 
 and not to be too modest about it, said that we must hand 
 over a hundred pounds ! As soon as the dragoman and 
 our two cameleers learned his errand, they seized him, and 
 I thought would choke him. But the strength was not to 
 
258 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 be all on one side. At once the negro threw up the skirt 
 of his garment as a signal to his comrades, who were close 
 at hand — for we were but a few hundred yards from an 
 Arab village — and they came rushing out in great num- 
 bers. The matter began to look serious. Loud words 
 and fierce gestures might lead to blows, and as both sides 
 were armed, there might be bloodshed. Dr. Post reined 
 up close beside me and whispered, “ Keep perfectly cool. 
 Do not dismount. If there must be a fight, let them fight 
 it out among themselves ; but on no account get off your 
 camel.” This was good advice, but not so easy to follow : 
 for the black fellow, set on by others, seized our camels by 
 the halters, and dragged them to the ground ; but we 
 kept our seats, and hitting them a cut with our whips, 
 they sprang up again. This performance was repeated a 
 number of times. The other side appeared to be divided. 
 Some were willing to let us pass, and motioned to us 
 to go on, though at the same time they held up their 
 hands in token that a slight douceur would be acceptable. 
 But the black fellow, supported by others, was obstinate, 
 and again and again seized our camels and dragged them 
 to the ground. Our impulse was to strike him in the face 
 with our whips, but as that might have brought on a gen- 
 eral combat, we thought it more prudent to hold in our 
 wrath till our baggage train appeared. At last it came up, 
 and our men mingled in the fray. Our old soldier, who 
 had lost his chance three hours before, was now like an 
 Irishman “ spoiling for a fight.” Our men gathered round 
 us, and kept the crowd at bay, while they pushed us along. 
 Meanwhile our dragoman, who was always for peaceable 
 measures, even at some sacrifice of dignity, was cajoled 
 into going off to the tent of one of the head men of the 
 tribe, to whom he gave some paltry backsheesh to be dis- 
 tributed among the ruffians, for which Dr. Post rebuked 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 259 
 
 him severely. As soon as there was a break in the crowd, 
 we pushed through, and urging on our camels, at last got 
 clear. As he saw us making our escape, the negro cried 
 out almost piteously, “Are you not going to give us 
 anything ?” “Not the mother of a para,” said the Doctor 
 (the para being the smallest of coins), and so we came off 
 victorious. The whole scene lasted half an hour, and was 
 very exciting and threatening ; but we felt a satisfaction 
 in the fact that we did not, for a- single moment, lose our 
 self-possession ; that we did not once dismount from our 
 camels, and did not give the rascals a penny ! But what 
 an idea it gave us of the barbarism that prowls on the 
 very borders of civilization : for we were no longer in the 
 desert, but in Palestine — in the very Pashalic of Jeru- 
 salem ! 
 
 So we were getting on. We had wished for an adven- 
 ture, and now we were gratified. To be stopped on the 
 road twice in one forenoon, was something new in our 
 experience. However, there is nothing like being used to 
 it. Half an hour after all this excitement we were seated 
 under a bank in the dry bed of a watercourse, taking our 
 luncheon, as if nothing had happened. 
 
 Thus refreshed, we climbed up out of this river bed 
 and came on a broad upland, which presented an aspect 
 of fertility that struck us with astonishment, coming from 
 the long wastes of the desert. Our afternoon’s ride lay 
 through a land of plenty — a land flowing with milk and 
 honey. I can hardly describe the pleasure I felt at the 
 first sight of a cow ! I wanted to stroke her and pet her. 
 Mingled with the herds of camels was an occasional herd 
 of asses, and what interested me much more were the beau- 
 tiful herds of horses, for this South Country is a favoiite 
 region for raising the finest breeds of pure ‘-Arabians.” 
 As a relief to the long monotony of black goats, there were 
 
260 
 
 PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 large flocks of sheep, of the breed known by the enormous 
 size and fatness of their tails. The country generally was 
 cultivated. The soil was light and thin, owing to a lack of 
 care in husbandry, but still it was waving with harvests. 
 Whichever way we turned (except south) — north, east, 
 and west — we saw the wide, open, rolling slopes standing 
 thick with wheat and barley. Between the upland pas- 
 tures clothed with flocks, were the valleys covered over 
 with corn. That evening, as we stood at the door of our 
 tent and looked towards the sunset, and over the varied 
 landscapes which were touched with the light of departing 
 day, we had to confess that we had rarely beheld a scene 
 of greater natural beauty. But for the absence of trees, 
 we might have been in one of the finest parts of England. 
 
 We camped to-night, not, as the night before, in a 
 hollow, to lie hidden from observation, for there were 
 too many Arabs near us to render concealment possible, 
 (we could see their black tents and hear the barking of 
 their dogs,) but on a gentle swell of ground, from which 
 we had an unbroken sweep all around the horizon. 
 
 Hardly were the tents pitched before we had our sym- 
 pathies greatly excited by an incident of the day. When 
 we had resumed our 1 march, our old soldier was missing, 
 and did not appear the whole afternoon. At night he 
 came into camp mad with grief and rage. It appeared 
 that in the melee he had had his sword taken from him, 
 and though he went back for it, he could not recover it. 
 The poor old man was in despair. It was a matter that 
 touched his honor. The weapon itself was of little value, 
 and I would have gladly given him another and much 
 better one. But that was not the same thing. This was 
 the badge of his military profession, the sign that he had 
 been in'the wars, when he followed the great Ibrahim in 
 his conquest of Spaa. But we comforted him with the 
 
PERILS AMONG ROBBERS. 
 
 261 
 
 hope that on his return he might resume his search with 
 better success. 
 
 After we had smoothed the ruffled plumage of the 
 warrior of our camp, we gave ourselves up to the peace 
 of the hour. The night was beautiful ; the firmament was 
 glorious with stars : never had they shone more brilliantly 
 in all our wanderings on the desert. We stood as it were 
 on the top of the round world, over which the heavens were 
 bending for protection. It seemed as if a spot thus heaven- 
 enclosed must be intended only for the abode of purity and 
 peace ; as if this must be a world where sin and sorrow 
 could not come ; where man could not lift his hand against 
 his brother ; and there was no such thing as robbery and 
 crime. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 Although we had passed a quiet night, our experiences 
 of the preceding day had not been of a character to make 
 us wish to prolong our slumbers far into the morning. I 
 was up at half-past four, which was generally understood 
 in the camp to mean that there was no more rest for man 
 or beast. By six o’clock we had had our breakfast, the 
 tents were struck, and we were in the saddle. The sun 
 was just rising over the vast undulating plains as we set 
 out on our march. Who would not lise early for the exhil- 
 aration of such a morning ride ? We were approaching the 
 end of our journey ; our long and toilsome marches were 
 nearly ended ; the Desert was behind us, and the Land of 
 Promise was before us. 
 
 I have spent between four and five years of my life in 
 foreign countries — a portion of the time in distant parts 
 of the earth — and have had many and varied experiences, 
 but nothing I think that imparted a sensation quite so 
 exquisite as this coming up out of the desert — out of void 
 and vacancy, out of vast spaces and solemn silences — into 
 the world of life and sound and motion. The return is 
 very gradual. Nature gives signs of the coming change by 
 an occasional quiver in her trame ; perchance a rill trick- 
 ling in the sands marks where the life-current is flowing 
 faintly in her veins ; then a new vegetation shows itself, as 
 familiar flowers peep out by the way, and the small grasses 
 begin to appear — tokens of a new existence into which we 
 
RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 2G3 
 
 are entering ; we seem to be getting nearer to the heart of 
 things, to the warm beginnings of life ; the earth is not 
 dead, but sleepeth ; it begins to breathe with the breath of 
 God. 
 
 Then there is a tender vibration in the world of sound ; 
 the note of a bird, faint as if she hardly dared to hear the 
 voice of her own singing, quivers for an instant in the deep 
 solitude ; to which follow hours of marching, when is 
 heard in the distance the bleating of sheep, and after 
 another long march the lowing of cattle ; and then 
 “ There is a floating whisper on the hill ” ; 
 
 there is a gentle murmur in the air ; and on the straining 
 ear comes the sweetest sound ever heard, that of human 
 voices : and so we come back into the living, breathing 
 world again. 
 
 I hardly know of anything to parallel this change, or 
 wherewith to compare it. It is said that not far above the 
 earth’s surface it is intensely cold and dark ; that the sun’s 
 rays must pass through the earth’s atmosphere to give 
 forth light and warmth. So it is that in passing into this 
 new atmosphere we feel as if we were entering “ the warm 
 precincts of the cheerful day,” to quote that exquisite line 
 of Gray’s Elegy, which seems as if written when the poet’s 
 eye was filled with “ the light of setting suns.” Indeed we 
 may quote the whole stanza in exact reverse, as giving the 
 perfect delineation of the change which comes over us : 
 
 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
 
 This pleasing, anxious being e’er resigned. 
 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 
 Nor east one longing, lingering look behind ? 
 
 Here “the warm precincts ” are not behind, but before; 
 the “ longing ” is not for that we leave, but for that we 
 enter ; and we return to “ this pleasing, anxious being,” 
 which, however troubled with care, still is life — life never 
 
264 
 
 RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 so dear as when we come up out of the desert, as out of 
 the valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 To-day this feeling of a new existence was bounding in 
 our veins. Everything conspired to kindle it — the dewy 
 freshness of the morning air ; the wide, open, rolling coun- 
 try, like the breezy downs of England. The wild flow- 
 ers of Palestine were under our feet ; the birds were all 
 abroad, enjoying the freshness of the early Spring-time ; the 
 Syrian lark rose fluttering from the ground, and sung her 
 sweetest carol to the coming day. This mingling of sights 
 and sounds and sweet fragrances created an intoxication 
 of the senses, in which we rode forward in a kind of 
 ecstacy, when suddenly we heard behind us the tramp of 
 a horseman coming at hull speed. What could it be? 
 Another robber-chieftain in swift pursuit ? A messenger 
 to forbid our passage through the country ? In an instant 
 dashed up beside us a man of fine, even noble aspect, 
 mounted on a beautiful Arabian steed. He sprang from 
 the saddle, and struck his spear into the ground, and the 
 steed stood motionless, while his rider advanced toward 
 us. He was unarmed ; he had neither sword nor gun — 
 nothing in his hand more formidable than a chibouque. 
 We turned to receive him. He presented himself with a 
 profound salaam, and no more startling message than an 
 invitation to the Howadjis to do him the honor to accom- 
 pany him to his tent, and join him in his morning repast. 
 I have no doubt that he had killed a sheep to prepare us 
 a feast. This was a complete surprise. Here indeed was 
 Oriental hospitality. We were strangers in the land, 
 simply passing through it, and this chieftain (for such he 
 appeared to be) went out of his way to show us courtesy. 
 We responded with profuse acknowledgments to the invi- 
 tation, which in other circumstances we should have been 
 delighted to accept, but explained that this was our last 
 
RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 265 
 
 day’s march ; that we were pressing on to Gaza, in hope 
 to be able to communicate with our families, from whom 
 we had been long separated. He listened with evident 
 regret, and still pressed us gently but earnestly, when sud- 
 denly it dawned upon us that there was a reason for this 
 extraordinary urgency. It appeared that he was the mudir 
 of the tribe through which we had passed the day before, 
 and was anxious to efface from our minds the impression 
 of the little “ unpleasantness ” which had marred our pas- 
 sage through his territory. This occurrence topched him 
 not merely in his honor and the honor of his people, but 
 in another way. By the Eastern law, he was responsible 
 for his tribe, as the father of a family for his household. 
 If a crime is committed, and the offender cannot be found 
 or brought to justice, the chief of the tribe may be held 
 responsible. But if he could have beguiled us to his tent 
 • — if we had once broken bread and eaten salt with him — 
 that would have condoned the offence, and we should have 
 been estopped from seeking other reparation. When we 
 discovered this, Dr. Post took a different tone. Though 
 still polite, he gave the mudir to understand very plainly 
 that we had suffered a great outrage in passing through 
 his territory, which ought to be punished ; that we did not 
 wish to be hard upon him, if he would produce the real 
 offender ; that, in short, if he would restore the money 
 which had been extorted from our dragoman, and the 
 sword which had been taken from our old soldier, and 
 more than all, bring the black ruffian, who was the leader 
 in the attack, to Gaza, and deliver him up to the authori- 
 ties, we would take no further measures ; otherwise we 
 should be obliged to report the matter to the Governor 
 immediately on our arrival. This was just what he feared, 
 and he tried to deprecate our anger. He pleaded that the 
 man might have escaped, and the sword be hidden so that 
 
2G6 
 
 RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 it could not be found. In such a case be thought we ought 
 to show a little consideration and forbearance. “ Would we 
 come to his tent to talk it over ? ” He was very humble, 
 and came up to my saddle and kissed my hand — a great 
 act of humiliation for the mudir of a powerful tribe. I felt 
 humbled for him, that he should be so humbled before me, 
 and if I could have followed my impulse, would have fallen 
 on his neck, and not only forgiven him, but pledged him 
 eternal friendship. But Dr. Post insisted that this was no 
 light matter ; that other travellers were exposed to the 
 same indignity and insult ; and that for their protection it 
 was our duty to make an example. I could but acknowl- 
 edge that he was right at least so far as this, that the man 
 should be severely punished. With this stern sense of 
 duty, the Doctor waved away the proffered hospitality as 
 if it had been a guilty temptation ; we resumed our march, 
 the camels took their long strides, leaving the mudir stand- 
 ing in the path, to return to his tent “ a sadder and a wiser 
 man.” 
 
 We now quickened our steps across the valley, and up 
 the hill. The view on every side was enchanting. The 
 sun had just risen, but as it was behind us, it did not daz- 
 zle us, but cast a soft light on the green fields that waved 
 round us like a sea ; and as it shone along a chain of 
 mountains on our right, it brought out in alternate sun- 
 light and shadow their projecting masses and their more 
 retired recesses. That was the Hill Country of Palestine ! 
 Could we but stand on the top of that ridge, and look 
 down on the other slope, we should see nestled among 
 the hills the city of Hebron, where David reigned seven 
 years before he removed to Jerusalem, and where an aged 
 tree still bears the name of Abraham’s oak. There is the 
 burying-place of the patriarchs in the Cave of Machpelah, 
 to which Jacob, dying in Egypt, charged his children to 
 
RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 2G7 
 
 carry his bones, saying “ There they buried Abraham and 
 Sarah his wife ; there they buried Isaac and Rebel ah his 
 wife ; and there I buried Leah.” So near were we in the 
 country over which we were passing to the scenes of sacred 
 history, and even to patriarchal times. 
 
 But our musings were cut short by a sight which now 
 burst upon us : for as we rose above the crest of the hill, 
 before us lay the Mediterranean ! We had already snuffed 
 the sea breeze, but now we saw the great waters, the white 
 caps rolling in on the long sandy beach. I am afraid there 
 was a little choking in the throat, and some tears crept 
 into the eyes, as we beheld the sea which at once separated 
 and united us with the living world to which we belonged. 
 On the shore was a town — the very one which had been 
 our destination ever since we rode out of the gate of the 
 Convent of Mount Sinai. It was yet two hours away, but 
 little mattered that since it was in view, and every step 
 brought us nearer. Once more trees appeared in the land- 
 scape, and patches of ground became more richly culti- 
 vated. To open fields of grain succeeded orchards and 
 gardens, divided by hedges of cactus, through which we 
 made our way. As we approached the city, the domes of 
 mosques rose into view, and minarets lifted their tall and 
 slender pinnacles in air. But suddenly my eye caught 
 another sight, which fixed if more than any dome or min- 
 aret — it was a line of telegraph ! I had always thought 
 telegraph-poles the ugliest objects with which man ever 
 deformed the fair face of nature ; but when I saw the slen- 
 der line that ran along their tops, and thought of the mes- 
 sages winged by lightning that flew over it, these gaunt, 
 ungainly objects took a sudden and strange attraction, and 
 I looked up to them almost with reverence as the long legs 
 of civilization, with which it goes striding over hill and 
 valley, over island and continent, to unite together all the 
 
268 
 
 RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 kindreds of mankind. If that first telegraph-pole had 
 been 
 
 “ The mast of some great admiral,” 
 
 or a flagstaff, bearing proudly the banner of my country, 
 it could not have sent a keener thrill through my heart. It 
 was the sign that we were coming home : that we were no 
 more strangers and pilgrims, or even exiles, but fellow- 
 citizens in the great commonwealth of humanity, which by 
 this token seemed to open its aims and receive us to its 
 bosom. 
 
 At the entrance of Gaza is an open space, which is the 
 usual camping-ground of parties, where we left word for 
 the baggage-train to halt and pitch our tents, while we 
 went forward into the town. As we came to the narrow 
 streets, hardly wide enough for the camels, we dismounted, 
 and leaving them to the men, pushed forward in search 
 of the telegraph office. Following the poles, we soon 
 found where the wires led into a building. It was a 
 strange sensation, in coming out of the desert, to be in 
 such an office, and hear the click of the telegraph again. 
 Dr. Post found in the operator a former pupil at Beirut, 
 who received him with great warmth, and took a personal 
 interest in hastening our messages. It was but a few min- 
 utes before his family were informed of his safety. The 
 dragoman also sent a message to Jaffa to have horses and 
 mules sent down to take us to Jerusalem, for the days of 
 our camel-riding were over. Then came my turn : “ How 
 long will it take to get a message to Florence ? ” “ We can 
 
 send it in either of two ways — by Constantinople, in which 
 case it will reach Florence some time this afternoon ; or by 
 Alexandria, from which it will go by submarine cable, and 
 be subject to no detention, and ought to arrive at the long- 
 est within an hour ; but a message by this route costs 
 double that by Constantinople.” “ Never mind the cost ; 
 
RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 2G9 
 
 send it by the quickest way.” And the tidings of our 
 safety were soon flying to Egypt, and diving under the sea. 
 
 Then for the first time we had a moment of rest, and 
 set off to find an English clergyman, Rev. A. W. Schapira, 
 whom Dr. Post knew. We found him at his school, and he 
 gave us a welcome such as I have never failed to receive 
 from missionaries in any part of the world. “ Where 
 are your tents ? ” he asked. We told him. “Do not stay 
 there, for you will be surrounded by a crowd, and may be 
 subjected to great annoyance. Have them pitched in my 
 garden.” We sent back a messenger in haste, who found 
 that the camels had arrived and been unloaded, and that 
 the tents were already up ; but at the word they were 
 taken down, and the camels loaded up again, and in an 
 hour they came lumbering into the missionary’s “ com- 
 pound,” where we could pass a Sabbath in quietness and 
 peace. 
 
 When at last our tents were pitched, and the camels 
 were stretched on the ground, chewing the cud of sweet 
 content, and the men were round the camp-fire cooking 
 their food, we felt that we had gained a victory. We had 
 accomplished the object with which we set out from 
 Nukhl on Monday morning ; we had reached our desti- 
 nation by a series of forced marches, in spite of discon- 
 tented men and frightened dragoman ; in spite of weather, 
 of lowering clouds, threatening cold and rain ; in spite of 
 sickness and of robbers. At last we were safe ; we had 
 reached our desired haven, and looked back over the long- 
 way as the sailor, hardly escaped from shipwreck, looks 
 back over a stormy ocean. 
 
 Our journey ended to our satisfaction, there came the 
 settling of accounts. The old soldier, who was the only 
 one of the Arabs that could read, had been entrusted by 
 his master, the sheikh, with the contract and authority to 
 
270 
 
 RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 receive the balance due at the end, for a portion must 
 always be kept back till the journey is completed, lest 
 perchance, finding that they had all their money, they 
 might leave us on the desert. The agreement had now 
 been fulfilled to the letter, and the grizzled soldier was 
 1 well pleased as the golden napoleons dropped into his 
 hand ; wl file a liberal backsheesh distributed among the 
 men, made all smiling and happy. 
 
 The missionary now led the way into his house, which, 
 like all Eastern houses, had a central court, enclosed 
 by a wall, within which the sound of a fountain gave a 
 delicious sense of coolness during the heats of Summer. 
 In the rooms all was very plain and simple, and yet there 
 was a neatness and modest taste, that I have found in all 
 parts of the world, to mark the missionary’s home, making 
 it a type of Christian civilization. Within is order, com- 
 fort, and intelligence, while without is poverty and filth, 
 vice and degradation, in their most disgusting forms. 
 
 Mr. Schapira and his excellent wife kept us to dinner, 
 after which he accompanied us to call on the Governor to 
 make our complaint of the attempted robbery. Jusuf 
 Effendi is one of the most enlightened statesmen in Turkey, 
 a man of European education, speaking both French and 
 English. He was a member of the “ Parliament ” which 
 the Sultan called after the Russian war, in which he was 
 a leader of the small party of progress and reform. 
 Indeed he was altogether too liberal for the latitude of 
 Constantinople, for which he received a kind of honorable 
 banishment to the small post of Governor of Gaza. But 
 his time may yet come. He is not a Turk, but an Arab of 
 the purest blood, of the tribe of the Koreishites, in which 
 Mahomet himself was born. Should there rise up in the 
 Empire an Arab party as opposed to the Turkish, there will 
 again be an opportunity for his great abilities. It was 
 
RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 271 
 
 quite an Oriental scene as we entered the Serai, the 
 Governor’s residence, in the court of which was a swarm 
 of officials, and of soldiers waiting for orders. In the 
 courtyard was the prison, with many had faces looking out 
 from behind the bars. I think Dr. Post pleased himself 
 to think of the hideous negro, with his teeth like tusks, 
 behind those bars, and that he would not have been over- 
 much grieved to see his feet made fast in the stocks, or 
 even subjected to the bastinado. 
 
 We ascended the steps and entered the room in which 
 the Governor sits to give audience to those who come to 
 him with wrongs to be redressed. He received us with all 
 courtesy, an attendant brought coffee and pipes, and we 
 presented our grievance. Our old soldier was on hand, 
 with fire in his eye and vengeance in his heart, to tell the 
 story of his wrongs. The case was a very plain one, and 
 the Governor, after hearing it, called an attendant and 
 ordered five horsemen to mount and ride in hot haste to 
 the Arab village and demand the return of the money 
 extorted, the soldier’s sword, and above all, the body of 
 the negro who had stopped our progress and dragged 
 down our camels. Away they galloped over hill and 
 dale, but the issue proved as the mudir had said : before 
 they reached the Arab camp, some message had gone that 
 they were coming, and the culprit betook himself to flight ; 
 and the horsemen, after a long search, returned without 
 their prisoner. But the watch was kept up a long time. 
 At Beirut a letter reached Dr. Post from Mr. Scliapira, 
 saying that he had had a visit from the mudir, who begged 
 as a great favor that, if the rascal were taken, he might be 
 punished by the tribe instead of being delivered up to the 
 authorities at Gaza. Thus the wholesome scare which 
 they had received partly answered the ends of justice. 
 
 After returning through the town, and visiting the 
 
272 
 
 RETURNING TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 bazaars and the principal mosque, where we ascended the 
 minaret to take a view of the city and the sea, we returned 
 to our tents weary, but with the feeling that at last we had 
 reached a place of rest. We found how good it was to 
 come back to the society of one’s fellow beings, to what 
 Charles Lamb calls “ the sweet security of city streets.” 
 
 And now, as the result of all my wanderings on the 
 desert, I have attained to this piece of philosophy, which 
 I leave for the benefit of posterity, that civilization is good 
 enough for me ! If any young man, full of the fire of 
 ambition, and with the hot blood of youth in his veins, 
 desires to set out to-morrow for the North Pole or the 
 heart of the Sahara, let him depart in peace : only for 
 myself I will say with Wisdom, Henceforth “ I dwell in the 
 habitable parts of the earth, and my delights are with the 
 sons of men.” 
 
 Meanwhile no answer came to my telegram to Florence. 
 Dr. Post had heard from Beirut that all was well, but the 
 afternoon wore away and I had no response. I began to 
 feel anxious and troubled. At last, weary and exhausted, 
 I retired to my camp-bed and fell asleep, when at eleven 
 o’clock the tent door was softly opened, and some one 
 stole in. I recognized the dragoman’s voice, who spoke : 
 “Dr. Field, here is a telegram for you.” He struck a 
 light, while I read, as well as I could amid the blinding 
 tears, the sweetest words in the language, “All well” 
 That was enough. “ Thank you, Yohanna : Good night : 
 Leave me now, and shut the door of the tent.” For who 
 would not be left to his own thoughts when his heart is 
 swelling and running over with thanksgivings to the Great 
 Preserver and Protector ? My cup was full, and amid the 
 manifold occasions for gratitude, last but not least, this 
 was sure to return : Blessed be civilization ! 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE MOSLEMS OF GAZA A BRAYE MISSIONARY. 
 
 The message which awaked me Saturday night pro- 
 duced a strange tumult in my thoughts. “All well ! ” 
 Did those words drop down from heaven, or from the top 
 of the campanile at Florence, to be caught up by tho night 
 wind, and borne to this farthest corner of the Mediter- 
 ranean ? Was it strange if, under the cover of our tent, 
 I felt as if “rocked in the cradle of the deep,” and listen- 
 ing to the cry “All’s well ” from the shift’s deck — a cry 
 repeated all night long, marking the hours ? But that cry 
 sounded so far away that it seemed as if it were not uttered 
 by any earthly guard or sentinel, but by some heavenly 
 Watcher gliding before us through the darkness, and 
 making a path of safety in the great waters. Such at 
 least were the fancies that, waking or sleeping, filled my 
 thoughts and mingled with my dreams, till the sun shone 
 through the curtains of the tent, and lo ! the Sabbath had 
 come. It was broad day, and yet there was neither sight 
 nor sound of motion in the camp. The camels were still 
 prone on the earth, as if they had reached the end of their 
 wanderings, and the desert should know them no more ; 
 while the men lay motionless, as if they were sleeping their 
 last sleep. The sky was of the deepest blue, as if it had 
 caught the reflection from the Mediterranean ; and in the 
 air there was 
 
 “ The sense of something far nfore deeply interfused,” 
 which no philosophy can explain but as an Invisible 
 
274 
 
 THE MOSLEMS OF GAZA. 
 
 Presence, before which nature stands still, and which fills 
 tiie trembling heart with its own fulness of peace. That 
 morning, at our family prayers, we felt a new overflow of 
 gratitude at the thought that we had “ moved our tent so 
 many days march nearer ” at once to our earthly and our 
 heavenly home. 
 
 To give a sacred sweetness to the day, we had for the 
 first time since leaving Cairo, a Christian service. There 
 is no church in Gaza, not even a chapel, however small ; 
 but in the early days the disciples, in the land where we 
 now were, assembled in an upper room, as in later times 
 persecuted Christians found sanctuaries in crypts and cata- 
 combs ; and so in the missionary’s house we joined with 
 his family and a few others, and listened to the worship of 
 God in our own tongue wherein we were born. Mr. 
 Schapira, as a missionary of the Church of England, read 
 that service which I have heard on many a shore and sea. 
 He is very liberal in embracing all Christians in his com- 
 munion of saints, and made no scruple in asking me to 
 conduct the service with him, and it was a sweet and sacred 
 hour when we all knelt together, English and Americans 
 and Syrians, and committed ourselves to Him who is the 
 God and Father of all 
 
 I have become very much interested in the work of this 
 excellent missionary. He is of Jewish descent, and is a na- 
 tive of Russia, having been bom at Odessa, on the Black Sea, 
 but has married a German wife, and lived in England, where 
 he learned to speak English perfectly, and labors under the 
 auspices cf the Church Missionary Society. Four years 
 ago he came to Gaza — a town inhabited almost exclusively 
 by Moslems of the most bigoted and fanatical kind. It 
 was hardly possible to find a more discouraging and appa- 
 rently hopeless field. "When he passed in the streets, he 
 was hooted at and cursed. But he bore all this silently, 
 
A BRAVE MISSIONARY. 
 
 275 
 
 determined to see what patience and faith could do. He 
 opened schools for the children of the very men who 
 cursed him, and so slowly hut surely did he win his way 
 to their respect and confidence, that he now has two hun- 
 dred children, most of them Moslems, who, it is to he 
 hoped, will not he like their fathers. 
 
 Then he found that slaves were brought from Egypt 
 and sold in Gaza. Indeed so open were the slave-dealers 
 in their business, that hearing of the arrival of a Howadji, 
 they thought they should find him a profitable customer — 
 for of course he would prefer a slave to a hired servant — 
 and came to ask if he did not want a “ likely ” hoy or girl. 
 So much was he annoyed by this that finally he determined 
 to pay them in their own coin ; and when they came again 
 with the offer of a hoy of unusual attractions, he said he 
 could not decide to purchase till he had seen the lad, and 
 had him in his house. So they brought him for a couple 
 of days inspection. Apparently they had forgotten, if in- 
 deed they ever knew, that a slave thus in the house of a 
 British subject is free. Straightway the missionary applied 
 to the English Consul at Jerusalem, who forthwith gave 
 the desired protection ; so that when the slave - dealers 
 (there were five of them) returned, they found that their 
 prize was free, while they were put in prison for breaking 
 the law ! Nor did this brave missionary cease his efforts 
 till the boy had been sent back to Egypt and up the Nile, 
 to be restored to the home from which he had been stolen. 
 After that he received no more offers of bargains in human 
 flesh, and those who plied the iniquitous trade were more 
 retired in their operations. So much for the Christian 
 courage of one man ! 
 
 Perhaps his interest in this matter was intensified by 
 his experience in Africa. He had been for two years a mis- 
 sionary at Sierra Leone, during which time he made many 
 
276 
 
 THE MOSLEMS OF GAZA. 
 
 excursions into tlie interior. On one occasion he was some 
 twelve days inarch from the coast, where he found in a 
 village a Mahometan missionary, who while endeavoring 
 to turn the people to Islam, thought it not inconsistent 
 with his sacred character to purchase a slave ! He had 
 bought a poor boy, whose feet, for fear of his running 
 away, he had made fast in the stocks. Such a sight was 
 enough to move a heart of stone, and deejily touched the 
 missionary. But what could he do ? He had no money to 
 buy the poor child’s freedom. Not long before this the 
 Bible — which had been translated into Arabic by Dr. Yan 
 Dyck — had been printed at the press in Beirut, and thirty 
 copies had been sent to Western Africa. One he had now 
 with him. The sight of this excited the ardent desire of 
 the apostle of Islam. Books are not common in that part 
 of the world, but here w T as a volume in his own mother 
 tongue. What would he not give to possess it ! He offered 
 the missionary any price, if he could but obtain one. This 
 conversation took place in the presence of one of the Afri- 
 can kings. Mr. Schapira listened to the earnest request, 
 and finally made answer : “ So you would give anything 
 for a copy of the Arabic Bible ? Well, you shall have it : 
 it is yours. Now give me that boy ! ” “ Oh — oh — oh ! 
 But — but — but ! ” exclaimed the Moslem. This was a turn 
 of affairs which he did not expect, and he was now as anx- 
 ious to recede from his rash offer as he had been to make 
 it. But my friend held him to his agreement, asking if he 
 intended to be put to shame before the king by breaking 
 his word ? The upshot of it all was that the Moslem priest 
 took the Bible, and gave up the boy, whom Mr. Schapira 
 forthwith despatched down to the coast, to be put into the 
 missionary school at Sierra Leone, where (though long a 
 sufferer from the torture indicted upon him by having his 
 feet made fast in the stocks) he found under the English 
 
A BRAVE MISSIONARY. 
 
 077 
 
 A ( ( 
 
 flag protection and liberty, and experienced (what he never 
 knew before in his short, sad life) true Christian kindness. 
 At the last advices he was still there. He was thus snatched 
 from a fate worse than death, and introduced to what, it is 
 to be hoped, will prove a happy and useful life. 
 
 This touching incident was told not at all in the way 
 of boasting, but was called out simply by the fact that 
 Dr. Post was from Beirut, which led to a conversation in 
 regard to the Arabic Bible, that had been translated and 
 printed there, a copy of which had made its way into such 
 a remote part of Africa, and been used to purchase the 
 freedom of a child who seemed born to hopeless bondage. 
 
 In his present field at Gaza, this devoted missionary 
 has need of a rare combination of wisdom, patience, and 
 courage — of all the virtues indeed which go to make up a 
 true hero. He is virtually an exile from his country. 
 He and his wife are the only Europeans in the place, and 
 have to meet all the disagreeable associations of a petty 
 Oriental town. But worse still is the danger of ophthalmia. 
 Nine out of ten persons in Gaza have lost either one or 
 both eyes ! From this the missionary himself has suffered 
 greatly, while his wife finds her eyes so weakened that 
 she cannot use them at all at night. 
 
 Mr. Schapira is the first man whom I have met who 
 has expressed any hope of reaching the Bedaween. It is 
 sufficiently discouraging to attempt to do anything for the 
 people of the cities ; perhaps as they are more bigoted 
 Moslems, they are more unapproachable than the children 
 of the desert. Their fanaticism extinguishes all natural 
 feeling. They have not even the common instinct of grat- 
 itude for favors received. “No matter how much you do 
 for them,” said my friend, “it is never enough, and they 
 are never grateful.” He told me of a man whose poverty 
 and destitution were such as moved him to pity, and he 
 
278 
 
 THE MOSLEMS OF GAZA. 
 
 found him employment to keep him from starving. “And 
 yet that man,” he said, “would come behind me when 
 walking in the street with my wife, and thinking we did 
 not hear him, mutter the most horrible curses on our 
 heads.” 
 
 But, remembering how the Divine Master would do 
 good even to those who reviled Him, this devoted mission- 
 ary has sought to imitate that blessed example, and by his 
 kindness to the children, whom he has gathered into his 
 schools, has made some impression on their parents. In 
 the same spirit of trying to save those for whom others 
 have abandoned hope, he has gone literally into the wilder- 
 ness to the fierce tribes, who, if more ignorant than the 
 dwellers in cities, are less bigoted. Their mouths are not 
 so full of cursing and bitterness. They preserve at least 
 somewhat of the kindly instincts of nature, which have not 
 been killed by religious fanaticism. And so, when discour- 
 aged, as he often is, and disheartened, by the ingratitude 
 of the Moslems of Gaza, he Hies to the Bedaween of the 
 desert. Of course he does not go with an ostentatious dis- 
 play of his condition as better than theirs, or anything 
 which can excite their cupidity. They see him coming 
 among them, a plain, simple man, and poor almost as 
 themselves, with hardly more than a staff in his hand, cer- 
 tainly with little money in his purse. He goes to their 
 black goats-hair tents, and claims their hospitality. He 
 does not despise their homely fare ; he dips his hand with 
 them into the dish ; and when they gather round their 
 camp-fire, he sits with them as their guest, and leads their 
 thoughts to things of which his own mind and heart are 
 full. He told me of his experience. At first he tried to 
 read to them the Bible, but they yawned and almost went 
 to sleep. He found that to persuade them to listen, he 
 must not read out of a book ; and so he laid aside the 
 
A BRAVE MISSIONARY. 
 
 279 
 
 Bible, and began to tell them a story. It was “the old, 
 old story ” of the creation of the world, of the fall of man, 
 and of the redemption by Christ, to which, coming in this 
 new dress, they pricked up their ears and listened eagerly, 
 as if listening to a story of the Arabian Nights, often in- 
 terrupting him with an exclamation of wonder, like the 
 Turkish “ Mashallah ! ” Thus he had held them listening 
 spell-bound till midnight, and in one case till two o’clock 
 in the morning. After this, who shall say that the Gospel, 
 brought in wisdom and in love, may not reach even the 
 descendants of Islimael, whose hands are against every 
 man, and every man’s hand against them ? 
 
 In the afternoon word came to our tent that the Gov- 
 ernor had sent to announce his intention to pay us a visit. 
 An Oriental visit, especially from a high official, is a very 
 formal affair, and it would be the extreme of rudeness to 
 refuse to receive it. Accordingly we repaired to the mis- 
 sionary’s house to await his coming. At the appointed 
 hour he appeared, with a number of attendants (the badge 
 of his office) who formed a circle round, but never pre- 
 sumed to utter a word. Coffee was brought and a long 
 narghileh (in which the smoke is inhaled through water) 
 for His Excellency. With an Oriental this is an indis- 
 pensable preliminary to conversation ; and when his lips 
 had closed on the amber mouthpiece, he was in the seren- 
 est mood, and the flow of wisdom began. I sat on the 
 sofa beside him, and with an occasional inquiry to draw 
 him out, had little more to do than to listen to what he 
 had to say. But that was full of interest, for the conver- 
 sation took a wide range. The Effendi spoke with the 
 utmost freedom of political affairs in the East. He appre- 
 ciated all the difficulties of Turkey, but yet was not with- 
 out hope for it, and dwelt with relief and pleasure on 
 every redeeming feature in the situation. From Turkey 
 
280 
 
 THE MOSLEMS OF GAZA. 
 
 lie passed to Egypt and Tunis, and the other Mahometan 
 States on the northern coast of Africa. Nor did he forget 
 his own motherland of Arabia : for, as I have said, he is 
 an Arab, and looks with hops to the future of his race. 
 In all his observations there appeared a degree of intelli- 
 gence and a liberal spirit which at once surprised and de- 
 lighted us. If there were in Turkey many such men as 
 Yusuf Effendi, there would be indeed hope for the future 
 of that decaying Empire. 
 
 When we returned to our tents, our cameleers were 
 preparing to depart — another leave-taking, which gave us 
 a momentary pang. We went round among them with a 
 friendly smile for all, and a special word of sympathy for 
 our old soldier, who could not be comforted for the shame 
 that had been put upon him ; and it was a real pleasure to 
 learn (though it was not till after I had reached America) 
 that on his return to Nukhl he had gone back to the tribe 
 that robbed him, and made his peace with them, and 
 recovered his sword, with which badge of his military 
 rank he returned home in all the pride of a soldier. Even 
 our camels I looked upon with some tenderness, knowing 
 that it was for the last time. Dr. Post wasted no senti- 
 ment on the beast that had vexed his soul from day to day, 
 but was glad that he should never see her again. But my 
 camel had become a pet ; she had borne me patiently 
 across the desert ; and now as I stroked her neck, which 
 she received as gently as a favorite pony would receive 
 a caress, I felt a real sadness that I should see her no 
 ' more. 
 
 Then the men mounted, and the camels rose up at the 
 word of command, and filed out of the garden, and took 
 the way of the desert. Hardly had they clisapjDeared be- 
 fore we heard a jingling of bells, and in came the horses 
 and mules that had been ordered from Jaffa to take us to 
 
A BRAVE MISSIONARY. 
 
 281 
 
 Jerusalem. The muleteers took the place of tlie cameleers, 
 and soon made themselves at home, camping beside us, to 
 be ready for the morning march. 
 
 The sun was now sinking in the west, and the mission- 
 ary joined us for a quiet walk out of the city, to meditate 
 at eventide. Passing between the cactus hedges, we made 
 our way through the deep drifted sand, and sat down by 
 the sea, where perhaps Samson had once stretched himself 
 upon the warm beach, displaying his Herculean limbs, 
 which were the wonder and the terror of the Philistines. 
 Gaza still retains the memory of the deliverer of Israel, 
 and to this day they point out the hilltop to which he bore 
 the gates of the city, and the site of the Temple of Dagon, 
 the pillars of which, they tell us, are buried under ground, 
 divided in the middle, where they were broken by his 
 giant arms. 
 
 Dr. Post had met here a young physician, who had 
 been his pupil at the Medical College in Beirut, and who 
 had just brought a wife from the Lebanon to his new home. 
 They desired us, as we were to leave on the morrow, to 
 como and spend our last evening with them. As we left 
 the missionary’s house, I offered my arm to his wife, who 
 declined it with a smile, saying that it would attract such 
 attention as to make us unpleasantly conspicuous. Mr. 
 Schapira said that he never took his wife’s arm in the 
 streets of Gaza, as it would be regarded by the Moslems 
 as an exhibition of the freedom of Christian manners ! So 
 much for the difference of customs in different countries, 
 and among peoples of different religions. 
 
 As we came into the streets, a servant led the way with 
 a lantern, which is quite necessary through streets that are 
 not only narrow and winding, but generally pitch dark : 
 for gas and even ordinary street lamps are little known in 
 Eastern cities. But there was another reason for having a 
 
282 
 
 Y BRAVE MISSIONARY. 
 
 torcli-bearer. Any native venturing into the streets at 
 night without a lantern, would be arrested by the police : 
 for these dark passages are the hiding-places for thieves 
 who he in wait for unprotected strangers. But little we 
 thought of any precautions needed for our safety, as we 
 entered a paved courtyard, and mounting by a stone stair- 
 case to the second story, found within doors the light and 
 warmth and cheerfulness of a Christian home. The soci- 
 ety of one such family is a great resource to a missionary 
 who finds himself almost alone among strangers. To 
 “ hold the fort ” in a city of Moslems, full of fanaticism 
 and hatred, requires the courage of a soldier, as well as 
 the faith of a Christian. But he who is equal to the task 
 is doing a work the full result of which he cannot hope to 
 see. At the beginning it is a very humble work — that of 
 opening schools, and gathering in poor and neglected chil- 
 dren ; but the seed thus sown by education, accompanied 
 by the influence of a Christian home, a Christian life and 
 example, is not sown in vain, and will spring up and bear 
 fruit long after he who scattered it has passed away. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THROUGH THE HILL COUNTRY TO BETHLEHEM. 
 
 If one test of the civilization of a country he the 
 existence of roads, we are in a land as yet hut very im- 
 perfectly civilized : for there is not a road in all Pales- 
 tine — or only one, and that hardly worthy of the name. 
 Some years ago, when the Empress Eugenie, having heen 
 to Egypt to give hy her presence Imperial pomp and 
 state to the ceremony of opening the Suez Canal, was to 
 pay a brief visit to the Holy Land, the authorities, hy ex- 
 traordinary exertions, smoothed the rough places, so that 
 a carriage could he driven from Jaffa to Jerusalem ; and 
 Mr. Cook still sends a waggon over the road, in which trav- 
 ellers can he jolted up and down the hills ; though one who 
 is used to the saddle will suffer less fatigue on horseback. 
 There is also a macadamized road from Beirut over the 
 Lebanon to Damascus, built some years since hy a French 
 company, hut that is far to the North, in Syria ; so that it 
 remains true that, with the exception of forty miles of 
 driving to Jaffa, there is not a road in all Palestine, 
 and we have still to go mounted, as when we were on 
 the desert. The only change is from camels to horses. 
 But this we found a great relief. Horses are much better 
 suited to Palestine, where, instead of long stretches of 
 sand, one has to pick his way — at least as soon as he enters 
 the Hill Country — over rough, stony paths, both in the 
 narrow valleys and along the sides of the mountains. The 
 
284 
 
 THROUGH THE HILL COUNTRY 
 
 Syrian horses are small, but active and hardy. They gen- 
 erally go on a walk, but step more quickly than camels, 
 and accomplish a greater distance in the day. They are 
 , also very sure-footed — a matter of great importance in 
 going up and down the mountains. 
 
 Thus mounted, our cavalcade of horses and mules, 
 though less picturesque than a caravan of camels, pre- 
 sented quite a brave show the next morning as we filed out 
 of the missionary compound, where we had said good-bye 
 to our kind friends, and set out for Jerusalem. The mules 
 of the country, though not so tall as camels, are still very 
 large and strong, and will carry about as heavy loads. 
 The number of animals for our pack train was diminished 
 as their burdens were lightened. Having left the desert, 
 it was no longer necessary to carry the heavy casks of 
 water. Our provisions, too, could be reduced, as we had 
 only to lay in a store for a few days, instead of weeks. 
 Six mules carried our tents with their furniture, and the 
 necessary provisions. Dr. Post and I had a couple of 
 gray ponies that bore us so lightly that we rode with 
 little fatigue. Another horse was for the dragoman. After 
 this file of horses and mules came a very small donkey, 
 which brought up the rear. This was for the captain of 
 the muleteers, who was a large man, and his proportions 
 being swelled out by his turban and his baggy trousers, 
 he looked like the Grand Turk ; and as he bestrode his 
 httle beast, he made a comical figure waddling along be- 
 hind the huge mules, that kept up a constant jingling of 
 . bells as they swung along the road. 
 
 In the vicinity of Gaza are some majestic ohvc trees, 
 which, by their age (for they must be centuries old) and 
 their- gnarled and knotted limbs, remind us of the ancient 
 oaks of England. Skirting the road for a mile or two, 
 they form a kind of fringe or border for the fields of 
 
TO BETHLEHEM. 
 
 285 
 
 wheat and barley, which stretch away in the distance. As 
 soon as we are fairly in the country, we find it the same as 
 that over which we passed in coming up from the South — 
 not a plain, but a succession of gentle undulations. This 
 South Country is the richest part of Palestine, unless it be 
 the Plains of Sharon and Esdraelon. The soil itself is 
 fitted to yield abundant harvests. Think of a land with- 
 out a stone ! Scarcely a pebble can be picked out of the 
 soft, warm earth. It is only as we approach the hills that 
 the stone begins to crop out. For hours we pursued our 
 way through this richly-cultivated country. Great num- 
 bers of the people were abroad in the fields, engaged in 
 the husbandry of the Spring. Farmers were plowing their 
 land, sometimes with a single beast, and often with a camel 
 and an ass, or an ox and an ass, yoked together, in disre- 
 gard of the Hebrew law. The plow was always of wood, 
 pointed with iron, and had but a single handle, so that 
 there was a special force in the singular number “ hand ” — 
 not “ hands ” — being put to the plow. 
 
 Yet rude as were the implements of agriculture, there 
 were on every side signs of the industry which the earth 
 repays with abundant fruit. In one respect the people 
 show a more careful husbandry than ours ; they weed out 
 their fields of grain, as we weed out our gardens. This 
 afternoon, all round us, as far as the eye could reach, the 
 country was of the purest emerald green. One drawback 
 only there was to the beauty of the landscape— the absence 
 of trees. This is caused by the accursed Turkish G overn- 
 ment, which blights whatever it touches, and which virtu- 
 ally prohibits tree-culture by imposing a tax on every tree, 
 not when it is grown and bearing fruit, but as soon as it is 
 planted. But even despotism cannot destroy the natural 
 fertility of the earth, and it yields such increase as makes 
 this truly a land flowing with milk and honey. The best 
 
286 
 
 THROUGH THE HILL COUNTRY 
 
 pictures of it are found in the Psalms of David, who passed 
 in it, or on its border, many of his early years. In yonder 
 Hill Country he took refuge when he was pursued by Saul, 
 and “ hunted like a partridge on the mountains.” From 
 the recesses of those hills he looked out on the same rolling 
 sea of green that glistened in the sunrise this morning, and 
 here he found much of his imagery of flocks and herds 
 and shepherds. From his eagle’s nest he saw far below, 
 stretching away to the horizon, the illimitable pastures, 
 “the cattle on a thousand hills,” and sang exultingly, “ The 
 hills are clothed with flocks ; the valleys also are covered 
 over with corn ; they shout for joy, they also sing.” A 
 knowledge of the methods of agriculture still pursued, and 
 which have doubtless come down from that day, sometimes 
 leads us to detect new beauties of expression, as when we 
 observe that, while the fields are plowed, they are never 
 harrowed, their levelling being left to the gentle rain : 
 “ Thou makest it soft with showers ; Thou settlest (he furrows 
 thereof ; Thou blessest the springing thereof.” 
 
 Some of the signs of civilization are wanting : there 
 are no roads and no fences ; the fields are divided only by 
 stones. But the divisions are as fixed and as sacred as if the 
 fields were hemmed in by walls ten feet high. “Cursed,” 
 said the Hebrew law, “ be he that removeth his neighbor’s 
 landmark ” ; and to this day, to touch one of these stones 
 is an offence which is more likely than almost any other to 
 lead to bloodshed. 
 
 Somewhere on this rolling country, between two swells 
 of land, there flows a brook, beside which we sat down to 
 rest, and found an interest in the rural scene, from the 
 conjecture of Robinson, which seems not improbable, that 
 this little stream was the very one in which Philip bap- 
 tized the eunuch, who was riding in his chariot towards 
 Gaza, and who went on his way rejoicing in his new-found 
 
TO BETHLEHEM. 
 
 287 
 
 faith, to carry light and joy hack to the darkness of his 
 own country of Ethiopia. 
 
 As we come up out of the South, we enter gradually 
 the foot-hills of that mountain region which forms the Hill 
 Country of Judea. We leave behind us -what the Scotch 
 would call the Lowlands of Palestine, and what in some of 
 their features are not unlike the Lowlands of Scotland ; 
 we leave the broad uplands and wide valleys ; the swells 
 of ground rise higher on either hand, leaving but a narrow 
 intervale, sometimes a mere strip of green, between hills 
 that are rugged and rocky, but whose ruggedness is some- 
 what relieved by the fig trees, which are just in blossom, 
 and the low shrubs which partly cover the rocks, and make 
 them beautiful, as the purple heather clothes with bloom 
 the bald Highlands of Scotland. 
 
 As we advance, the country becomes more thickly inhab- 
 ited ; villages are more frequent, and though the houses 
 are of mud, they are more fit for human habitation than 
 the black tents of the Arabs, open to all the winds and 
 rains of heaven. There is also more of comfort and of 
 decency in the clothing of men, women, and children. It 
 was a pleasure to see once more the unveiled face of 
 woman — a face perhaps plain and common, and bearing 
 traces of labor and care, yet not disfigured by the hideous 
 black veil, which does not of necessity betoken modesty in 
 the wearer. As we rode through the villages, women were 
 sitting round the fountains, or carrying water jars on their 
 heads or their shoulders, like the Rachels and Rebeccas of 
 patriarchal times. 
 
 We camped at Shummeit, just out of the little town, on 
 the top of a hill which commanded a wide sweep of the 
 horizon southward and westward ; over the country we 
 had left behind, and away towards the coast where the 
 sun went down into the western sea. 
 
288 
 
 THROUGH THE HILL COUNTRY 
 
 Tlie next morning we were early in tlie saddle, and 
 after starting our baggage train northward in a direct 
 course to Bethlehem, w r e struck across country to Beit 
 Jebrin, which has some remarkable ruins, that date from 
 the time of the Romans. From the remains of walls, it 
 was evidently a fortified town, and was doubtless the site 
 of a Roman camp, placed here to overawe Pliilistia. The 
 Roman arch shows that these were built by the Imperial 
 people, when they were masters of Palestine, as of all the 
 East. The country about is honeycombed with structures 
 underground, some of which are natural caves, which were 
 perhaps used for the storing of grain ; while others are 
 hollowed out of the rocks, with passages and galleries, 
 which may have been designed for the retreats of hermits. 
 Besides these, there are other structures, which have more 
 distinctly an ecclesiastical design, in which the pointed 
 arch shows that they were of a later time, built perhaps 
 by the Crusaders. 
 
 From Beit Jebrin we took a guide, as indeed we had 
 need, for the hills were more and more closing in upon us. 
 The road in which we could ride side by side, dwindled to 
 a narrow bridle path, in which we had to keep in single file, 
 and this became more steep and stony till it required all 
 the vigor of our little ponies to clamber over the rocks. 
 All daylong we were making our way over the hills, rugged 
 and bare and wild, such as we were afterwards to traverse 
 in a large part of Palestine. It was five o’clock when we 
 reached the summit of the ridge, and turned to look back 
 over the sea of mountains, and away southward to the 
 Plain of Philistia, and westward to the Mediterranean. As 
 we rose over this point, which from its height commands 
 an extensive view to the north, the dragoman, pointing to 
 a long white line on the crest of a mountain, which was 
 suddenly lighted up by the descending sun, exclaimed 
 
TO BETHLEHEM. 
 
 289 
 
 “ There is Jerusalem ! ” It was our first glimpse of the 
 Holy City. It was not an ancient wall that we saw, nor 
 even the dome of the Mosque of Omar, which stands on 
 the site of the Temple of Solomon, hut the Armenian Con- 
 vent (for the numerous convents are the most conspicuous 
 objects of the modern city) ; but for the instant a thrill 
 shot through us as if we had caught a glimpse of the 
 Heavenly Jerusalem. We said but few words, but gazed 
 and gazed as we rode on over the hills and down the 
 passes, till just at evening we dismounted at Solomon’s 
 Pools, which he built to furnish water to Jerusalem. 
 
 When we turned away from the Pools of Solomon, the 
 sun was set, but we had still a long ride before us — at least 
 it seemed long, for we were weary, the road was rough, 
 and the shades of night were gathering. The moon, but a 
 week old, lighted faintly the rocky path through which we 
 picked our way. We rode on in silence till we began to 
 ascend ; we were climbing a hill, and when we reached its 
 top we were in Bethlehem ! Winding our way through 
 the streets of the little town, we found our camp, and 
 crawled off our horses, having been in the saddle twelve 
 hours. 
 
 But the bright lights and the refreshing tea awaiting 
 us soon put us in a cheerful glow, and we went out to take 
 a night view of the scene around us. Our tents were 
 pitched on the brow of a hill, looking down into a deep 
 valley, where all lay as in profound slumber. Not a sound 
 broke the deep stillness : 
 
 The beating of our own hearts 
 
 Was all the sound we heard. 
 
 But those hearts beat fast, for what memories were there 
 to stir the depths of emotion. That valley below us was 
 the field of Boaz where Ruth gleaned the blades of ripened 
 grain ! 
 
290 
 
 TO BETHLEHEM. 
 
 And look across tlie valley to yonder hillside! That 
 gentle slope, which is seen dimly in the pale moonlight, 
 is the field in which, according to tradition, “ shepherds 
 were keeping watch over their flock by night,” when “ the 
 angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the 
 Lord shone round about them.” In this matter of locali- 
 ties it is best not to be too precise or too positive. Nor is 
 it necessary to fix the identical spot. The exact point in 
 space matters little, any more than the exact point of time. 
 All we know, and all that we need to know, is that it was 
 somewhere within the circuit of these hills that the shep- 
 herds watched ; that it was in these skies that they saw 
 the multitude of the heavenly host, and heard the song 
 “ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good 
 will toward men.” That is enough to make the very 
 heavens above us more serene, and the stars shine with a 
 softer, tenderer fight. We look upward as if we might 
 catch some faint gleam of the angelic wings, or a far-off 
 echo of the angelic voices. How they soared and sang ! 
 Never before did the earth hear such harmonies as these, 
 which filled all the depths of air. 
 
 At length they ceased, and the vision vanished like a 
 cloud. Higher and higher rose the heavenly host, and far- 
 ther and farther the strains died away, till once more 
 heaven and earth were still. And yet may it not be that 
 they died away only to the shepherds’ ears, while elsewhere 
 they kept sounding on ? Perhaps the celestial choir- only 
 ascended into a higher atmosphere, and there floated over 
 other mountain tops and other valleys, the waves of sound 
 circling round them till they touched every shore, and all 
 tribes and kindreds of men heard the good tidings of great 
 joy. O Christ, at whose birth the angels sang, will that 
 song ever be heard again in the upper air of this poor 
 world of ours ? 
 
CHAPTER XXH. 
 
 AROUND THE PLACE WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 In entering Palestine from the South Country, instead 
 of from the sea by Jaffa, there is the advantage that we 
 approach Jerusalem through Bethlehem, and thus follow a 
 natural order in coming to the place of our Lord’s birth 
 before we come to that of His active ministry, as well as 
 of His death, burial, and resurrection. 
 
 In the confusion of localities which is so common in 
 the East, it is a comfort to our Christian faith that there is 
 one, the identity of which is not disputed. Seven cities 
 contended for the honor of being the birthplace of Homer, 
 but no question has ever been raised in regard to the birth- 
 place of Christ. Long before His birth, Bethlehem figures 
 in the Jewish annals. As far bach as the days of the patri- 
 archs, Rachel died near Bethlehem in giving birth to Ben- 
 jamin, and her tomb is still shown, where, if her dust be 
 not preserved, yet lingers the sweetness of her beloved 
 name. Here too David was born, and in his boyhood 
 rambled over these hills, and perhaps kept his father’s 
 flock in the field of his great-grandfather Boaz and his 
 great-grandmother Ruth. As the City of David, Bethle- 
 hem had a place in the regard of every pious and patriotic 
 Jew. Consecrated by such memories, it was pointed out 
 as the future birthplace of One greater than David, by a 
 prophecy, seven hundred years before Christ was bom : 
 “ Thou Betlilehem-Ephratah, though thou be little among 
 
292 
 
 AROUND THE PLACE 
 
 the thousands of Judah, jet out of thee shall He come 
 forth that is to be ruler in Israel.” Not only was it Beth- 
 lehem, but Bethlehem of Judah, to distinguish it from 
 Bethlehem of Galilee. So precisely was indicated the 
 place which was to be of such interest to all who should 
 believe in Him unto the end of the world. 
 
 As to the time of the Saviour’s birth, it is reckoned by 
 scholars to have been at least four years before the date 
 commonly fixed for the beginning of the Christian era. This 
 earlier date is easily determined by reference to other events 
 fixed in profane history. It was in the reign of Augustus 
 Caesar, at the time of a general enrollment of the inhabit- 
 ants which had been ordered from Rome. But as to the 
 season of the year, Biblical chronologists do not agree, and 
 probably never will. Each season has had its advocates. 
 Indeed there is hardly a month which has not been adopted 
 by some commentator for reasons convincing to himself. 
 The general consent of the Church since the fourth cen- 
 tury has accepted the 25th of December. But some reason 
 that it could hardly have been so near midwinter, when 
 travelling would be difficult among the hills of Judea, that 
 the Roman Emperor would send forth a decree that all 
 should go to their own cities to be enrolled. This is partly 
 answered by the fact that in Palestine there is an interval 
 of about two months between the early and the latter rains, 
 from the middle of December to the middle of February, 
 which would furnish the opportunity required. Others 
 argue from the fitness of things, that it might have been 
 expected that the Saviour would be born in the Spring, 
 when nature itself was in harmony with the new life that * 
 was coming on the world. 
 
 Such were our thoughts as we came out of the door 
 of the tent, and looked down once more into the vale 
 of Bethlehem. It was almost the last day of March — the 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 293 
 
 very budding and blossoming and flowering season of Pal- 
 estine. The morning sun showed us what we had seen but 
 dimly by moonlight ; and as we looked down into the deep 
 valley below, the field of Boaz was green with the fresh- 
 ness of the early Spring. All around, the terraced hillsides 
 were covered with vineyards or with orchards, on whose 
 varied colors the eye rested with delight — thq tender 
 green of the olive and the red flowers of the pomegran- 
 ate, mingled with fig-trees which were now in full blos- 
 som. Surely this was the season of all the round' year 
 for the advent of Him who was, in another and a higher 
 sense, to renew the face of the earth. So it seemed to us, 
 and indeed if we could but follow the fancies of this in- 
 spiring hour, we should think it most in harmony with 
 the event, that our Lord should have come into the world 
 in the early dawn, when the morning star was just above 
 the horizon, and the light of the rising sun began to glow 
 over the distant mountains of Moab, and to touch the 
 crests of this hill country of Palestine. But what matters 
 it whether the Lord came at midnight, or at the cock-crow- 
 ing, or in the morning, so that He came ? It is the event 
 which concerns us rather than the season, whether Spring 
 or Summer, or Autumn or Winter. What imports the 
 season of the year to Him who “ has all seasons for His 
 own ” ? What matters it whether the star in the East 
 shone on harvest fields or on wintry snows, so that it 
 but led the wandering Magi till it came and stood over 
 where the young child was ? As to the month or the day, 
 that is a minor point on which we are not careful to an- 
 swer — content to accept the day which has been observed 
 for centuries as that of our Redeemer’s birth. When the 
 year comes round and brings the happy Christmas time ; 
 and the bells are ringing in every Christian land, we would 
 join with universal Chi'istendom in celebrating an event 
 
294 
 
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 which brought “good tidings of great joy to all people.” 
 In such a spirit we take our morning walk to-day to the 
 Church of the Nativity, to linger awhile beside the spot, 
 where, according to tradition, our Saviour came into the 
 world, and by the manger where they laid Him. 
 
 In visiting “ holy places,” one finds not infrequently 
 a jar on his devout meditations, at the mingling of things 
 sacred and profane, of the common and the trivial with 
 that which is of far higher interest. As I walked along 
 the narrow streets and looked into the little shops of 
 Bethlehem, it was not easy to adjust the mingling of the 
 petty cares and drudgery of daily life with the solemn 
 and religious thoughts which filled the mind. And still 
 they are not in such disaccord as they might seem ; for 
 Bethlehem is inhabited by Greek and Latin Christians 
 (with but three hundred Moslems in a population of five 
 thousand), whose main industry is that of providing mate- 
 rial aids to devotion. As of old there were various kinds 
 of business connected with the Temple, so here the chief 
 occupation of the little town is the making of rosaries and 
 crosses and images of saints from olive wood, from coral 
 and mother of pearl, for the use of pilgrims. 
 
 Passing these we direct our steps towards the Church 
 of the Nativity. Even a stranger would have no difficulty 
 in finding it, for the building towers high above all others at 
 the end of the town, the centre around which are clustered 
 three Convents, making altogether an imposing architectu- 
 ral pile. Following the pilgrims, who are moving in one 
 direction, we come to an open square, at the end of which 
 rise the massive walls of the Church, which was begun by 
 Helena in 327, and completed by Constantine in 333. It 
 was formerly entered by three arched doors of imposing 
 height and breadth, two of -which are now walled up, and the 
 third partly so, leaving an entrance almost as small as that 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 295 
 
 at the Convent of Mount Sinai, and kept small for the same 
 purpose of protection. In former centuries the proud 
 Moslems were accustomed to ride through the high-arched 
 portal to profane the sacred place and insult the feelings 
 of those who came here as devout worshippers, to guard 
 against which it was walled up on the side and at the top, 
 so that now the lintel is not very far above a man's head 
 But this low and narrow door is quite sufficient for the 
 pious pilgrim, who would not enter on horseback, but on 
 foot, or even on his knees, if that were necessary, to mark 
 his reverence for the holy place. He enters, and finds 
 himself in the presence of the greatest shrine save one 
 (that of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem) 
 in the Christian world. The interior is vast and sombre. 
 Everything speaks of centuries long gone. The old walls, 
 which have stood for more than fifteen centuries ; the open 
 rafters of cedar overhead sent from England and reared in 
 place by hands that have long been dust ; give an impres- 
 sion of that which is very ancient, even if it were not for the 
 voices of the monks “ chanting the liturgies of remote gen- 
 erations.” 
 
 We pass up the aisle to the end of the church, where, 
 under the great choir, a flight of steps from either side 
 leads to the crypt, which is the supposed scene of the 
 birth of our Lord. 
 
 In coming to this place of pilgrimage, the first question 
 is as to its identity. While no doubt can exist that our 
 Saviour was born in Bethlehem, yet in what precise spot 
 in Bethlehem, is a question which has been much debated : 
 and although, like the question of the day or the season, 
 it is not material to the significance of the event, yet it is 
 a matter of interest, especially when we are standing on 
 what is supposed to be the very spot. It is said of the 
 mother of Christ that “ she brought forth her first-born 
 
296 
 
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 son, and wrapped him in swaddling-clothes, and laid him 
 in a manger, because there was no room for them in the 
 inn.” This first resting-place of the Holy Family is sup- 
 posed to have been under ground, which at least is possible. 
 The hillsides of Palestine are full of caves, which were often 
 used for storing grain and feeding cattle. Sometimes a 
 spacious cavern was turned into a kind of hostelry. If the 
 impression be conveyed that there was an indignity offered 
 to Mary and Joseph, in that they were obliged to take 
 refuge in such a place, this will not be so interpreted 
 by those who have lived in the East, and who know how 
 in the great khans or caravanserais men and animals are 
 often herded together in the same enclosure or under the 
 same roof. Several weeks after this I was on Mount 
 Carmel, where is a small but substantial stone building 
 designed for the uSe of pilgrims, with but one large room, 
 whose only division is that the place for men and women 
 is two or three feet higher than that for the beasts of 
 burden. On this raised platform the pilgrims sit and eat 
 and sleep, while but just below them stand “ the beasts of 
 the stall.” Along the edge of the raised platform is a long 
 stone trough, in which, when not crowded with the heads 
 of cattle feeding, children are laid down to sleep as the 
 most convenient place of rest, and for safety, as its depth 
 makes it a secure cradle, in which a child would be as 
 safe from falling as in its mother’s arms. Indeed at the 
 moment that we entered, there was a child sleeping quietly 
 in this stone manger, which gave us an exact image of the 
 manger-cradle of Bethlehem, in which they laid the holy 
 child Jesus. 
 
 As to this crypt under the church, whether it be the 
 very place of the manger, there is a further question, 
 not so easily answered. Tradition may not be conclu- 
 sive, but certainly it is entitled to weight ; and so far 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 297 
 
 as tradition goes, it points to this spot, and to no other. 
 Justin Martyr, who was horn at the beginning of the 
 second century, hut a few years after John, the last of the 
 Apostles, was in his grave, speaks of the birth of Christ as 
 having taken place in a cave near Bethlehem. Origen, who 
 was horn in the latter part of the second century, refers to 
 it as a matter about which there was no dispute. And 
 here in the fourth century was erected the great basilica, 
 in everlasting commemoration of the event. In the latter 
 part of that century, Jerome fixed his residence on this spot, 
 to be near the birthplace of his Lord, while he wrought upon 
 his great work of the translation of the Scriptures from the 
 Hebrew and Greek into the Latin tongue. Against this 
 concurrence of tradition there is only a vague uncertainty, 
 so that the balance of probabilities may be said to incline 
 in its favor. 
 
 "With such a leaning towards belief, it was with a deep 
 feeling that I descended the steps, and found myself in 
 the Grotto of the Nativity. It is like any grotto or cavern, 
 with low roof, only ten feet high, and would be quite dark 
 but for the number of lamps, that cast their light on the 
 marble pavement, in which the most Drillj^nt object is a 
 silver star under the altar, that is supposed to mark the 
 very spot where our Lord came into the world. Encircling 
 it is the inscription : Hie de Vtrgine Maria Jesus Christus 
 natus est [Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary]. 
 Opposite to this, and but a few feet distant, three steps 
 lower, is another altar, covering the supposed place of the 
 manger. 
 
 Had I been wholly incredulous as to the spot, I could 
 not but be moved, if it were only by sympathy with the 
 emotion it awakened in others. It was just before the 
 Holy Week, and Bethlehem as well as Jerusalem was 
 thronged with pilgrims. Here they came in crowds, and 
 
298 
 
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 felt a strange awe as they entered the Grotto of tlie Nativ- 
 ity. They fell upon their knees before the altar ; they 
 bowed their heads in prayer ; they kissed the sacred spot 
 marked by the silver star, while tears fell upon the pave- 
 ment ; and as they lifted them eyes to heaven, and their 
 lips moved silently, it seemed as if their thoughts were 
 floating upward with the cloud of incense, and that they 
 were responding to the prayers offered, according to the 
 Greek and Latin rituals — pro vivis et defunctis — for the 
 living and the dead. 
 
 So much was I interested in the associations of this 
 ancient church— the oldest perhaps in the Christian world 
 — that after I had been over it and under it and around it, 
 and gone away, I came back again to spend another hour, 
 and to renew the impressions of the place. As I walked 
 up the aisle a second time, a monk in the coarse dark 
 brown robe of the Franciscan Order, with a rope round 
 his waist, recognizing me as a stranger, and perhaps divin- 
 ing the country from which I came, addressed me in Eng- 
 lish. He was an Irish monk, and had lived in America ! 
 He was very polite, and invited me into the Convent, tak- 
 ing me to the refectory and offering me refreshment, and 
 up on the roof, which commands a beautiful view down 
 into the valley and over the surrounding hills ; from which 
 we returned to the church, and to the grotto under it, and 
 to the study of Jerome, where he spent the last thirty 
 years of his life translating the Bible, and where was wit- 
 nessed the scene of his Last Communion, which has been 
 immortalized in the great painting of Domenichino. As we 
 passed from place to place, we were deep in conversation 
 about the sacred localities, in which I soon discovered the 
 intense jealousy of the different Christian sects of the East. 
 This church is walled in by three Convents — Greek, Latin, 
 and Armenian — which are not planted against its sides to 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 299 
 
 serve as buttresses for its support, but like hostile fortresses, 
 that wished to keep in range of each other’s guns. My 
 guide spoke with evident bitterness of the way in which 
 “ the Greeks ” had usurped control. He said they would 
 not allow the Latins even to celebrate Mass at the altar 
 over the birthplace, which he seemed to consider a great 
 privation, even though the Latins had the altar over the 
 manger ! Indeed for a long time the Latins were excluded 
 entirely. The question of the “ holy places ” was one of 
 the causes of the embittered feeling between France and 
 Russia, which led to the Crimean War, and it was finally 
 owing to the determined position of Louis Napoleon, that 
 the Latins obtained the rights which they now enjoy, 
 apparently in equal degree with the Greeks. 
 
 Such exhibitions of religious jealousy, not to say ani- 
 mosity, produce a painful feeling, and it is hard to keep 
 alive the associations of the birthplace of Christ, in the 
 presence of a temper so little like that of our Master. 
 Some are so grieved by this unchristian spirit, that they 
 retire in a mood very far from that of devotion. And yet 
 the bitterness which shows only human infirmity, cannot 
 drag down to its own level that which is Divine ; nor can 
 the gross superstitions which have gathered round the 
 place, destroy the sacred reality. 
 
 Walking slowly down the aisle to the side door which 
 opened into the Latin Convent, the good monk courte- 
 ously took his leave, while I lingered yet a little while 
 within the walls that wakened such venerable associations. 
 Turning again, I retraced my steps towards the end of 
 the church, and once more descended into the Grotto 
 of the Nativity. It was the same scene as before — 
 the pilgrims were kneeling, the prayers were ascending. 
 Withdrawing a little from the altar not to disturb the 
 worshippers, I gave myself up to some quiet thoughts 
 
300 
 
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 suggested by the place. Standing in the Grotto of the 
 Nativity, how could one help trying to recall the scene 
 witnessed here nearly nineteen centuries ago, before which 
 the Magi knelt, and before which the Christian world is 
 still kneeling ? It is but a familiar domestic scene, a 
 young mother with her first-born child in her arms. 
 There are no surroundings of circumstance to give it 
 pomp and splendor. It is not a royal birth, announced 
 to an expectant kingdom by the waving of banners over 
 a great capital. The fact that a child was born probably 
 did not produce the slightest stir even in the inn. It was 
 but a Hebrew woman, humble in appearance and attire 
 as the subterranean chamber in which she had taken 
 refuge, and perhaps with not a single attendant but 
 Joseph, not even a nurse to perform the commonest 
 offices for one who with her own hands “ wrapped her 
 child in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger.” 
 How insignificant was such an event ! How little was 
 there in that poor young mother to distinguish her from 
 the thousands of the daughters of Israel ! 
 
 And yet, such are the strange mutations of time, that 
 no one of woman born, excepting only the son whom she 
 herself bore, ever had such a name and place in history. 
 How little she thought — lowly in heart as in life — of the 
 homage that was to await her in future generations ! As 
 she lay here in this Grotto, on her bed of stone, she may 
 have heard over her head the tramp of Roman soldiers, 
 or of the crowd that had flocked to be enrolled at the 
 bidding of Caesar. Rome and Caesar! The very words 
 struck awe into the heart of a Hebrew, man or woman, 
 as they suggested images of greatness and power. Little ^ 
 could one so poor dream that in the lapse of centuries 
 her own humble name would be heard in the streets of 
 Rome ; that temples would rise to her, more numerous 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 301 
 
 and more vast and splendid than the heathen temples they 
 displaced ; and that thus, poor, weak, and human as she 
 was, she would be exalted as an object of worship. This 
 indeed is an exaltation which throws all human honors 
 into nothing. What are thrones and diadems to this ? 
 What queen so great, though she were the mother of a 
 long line of kings, as to be worthy to be named in the 
 presence of her before whom even kings and queens bow, 
 hailing her as Regina Cadi and Mater Dei ! 
 
 It would be a long history that should trace the growth 
 of superstition, which culminated in this exaltation of the 
 mother of Christ to a degree that became nothing less than 
 idolatry. In the Roman Church not only is Mary revered 
 as the mother of our Lord, but she is exalted to be a 
 partner of his throne — the sharer of his divinity. She is 
 the object of ceaseless intercessions and prayers. In 
 every cathedral in the Catholic world, the Ave Maria 
 mingles with invocations of the Redeemer. 
 
 This is more than honor : it is worship. It is giving to 
 the creature that which belongs only to the Creator. These 
 superstitions and idolatries have produced iu Protestant 
 minds a revulsion of feeling, which sometimes carries them 
 to an equal extreme the other way. We are so shocked by 
 a false estimate that we hardly take pains to get a true one. 
 We find it difficult to disentangle our thoughts from this 
 mass of legend, and to form a just conception of a char- 
 acter which is beautiful because of its freedom from all 
 pretension, its simplicity, its modesty, purity, and truth. 
 But surely it is worth the attempt. Shutting out all false 
 lights, can we not, by the light of Scripture alone, form a 
 just conception of the mother of our Lord? 
 
 In such a spirit let us study once more the group 
 in this Grotto of the Nativity, and what do we see? . 
 A Hebrew maiden, of humble birth, with nothing of the 
 
302 
 
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 queenly in lier looks, such as poets and painters have 
 given her. The artists of the Middle Ages are largely 
 responsible, not for the deification, but for the idealiza- 
 tion, of the Virgin Mary. Divesting ourselves of these 
 misleading impressions of medieval art, we picture not 
 a wondrous beauty of form or face, but that beauty of 
 the soul which shines through the countenance, showing 
 itself in deep, tender, thoughtful eyes ; the spiritual blend- 
 ing with the womanly, producing a kind of illumination, 
 such as is seen only in the faces of saintly women. With- 
 out ascribing to her supernatural graces, we can well believe 
 that there was something sweetly spiritual in her face, as 
 became the descendant of a long line of mothers in Israel — 
 devout women who had been waiting for the kingdom of 
 God. Her mind was filled with sacred thoughts, “ waiting,” 
 like Simeon, “for the consolation of Israel,” and so full 
 of these great hopes, that she was, though “ troubled,” 
 not affrighted by the apparition of the angel. For such 
 interior grace and purity she was chosen to be the mother 
 of our Lord. And when beneath this lowly roof came that 
 blissful hour, there overspread her countenance an added 
 grace which it never had before. There was no halo round 
 her head, but in her face shone the light of love. Her eyes 
 perhaps were downcast, as if she felt, at that moment more 
 than ever, how unworthy she was of the honor which was 
 given her, and yet there was the inexpressible beaming of 
 a mother’s joy, as she took her first-born child — and such 
 a child — within her arms. Such is the image we gather 
 from the few faint touches in the New Testament — that 
 of a simple woman, pure, unworldly ; with a woman’s 
 capacity for suffering, as well as for devotion ; not self- 
 denying so much as self-forgetting ; never thinking of 
 herself, but with her whole existence wrapped up in that 
 of her Son, to whom she clung, not only with natural 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 303 
 
 affection, but with unbounded faith as her Lord and 
 Master. 
 
 While therefore we disown and reject, as unworthy 
 of those who worship God only, the superstitious homage 
 paid to the mother of Christ, we cannot but feel that the 
 honor which is justly due to holy men and women, 
 belongs in the highest degree to her whom God himself 
 honored so greatly. How can any one speak lightly of 
 her whose name is introduced in the most venerable of 
 ancient creeds in connection with that of our Lord, “ who 
 was conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin 
 Mary ” ? “ Blessed art thou among women,” said the angel, 
 and surely all generations may call her blessed who was 
 chosen from her race to be the mother of Christ, the one 
 to whom His eyes opened first in life, and turned last in 
 death. She who bore that relation to our Saviour cannot 
 be indifferent to us. She who received the Christ-child in 
 her arms, and laid him in a manger ; who watched over 
 his infancy ; under whose roof he grew in favor with God 
 and man ; who shared his bitter sorrows ; who “ stood by 
 the cross” — “Stabat Mater Dolorosa”; to whom he cast a 
 dying look of ineffable tenderness — to her is due, not wor- 
 ship, but the love and reverence of all the ages. 
 
 And that is the truest reverence which regards her, not 
 as a being out of nature — a celestial spirit that came into 
 our sphere to be the “ mother of God ” — but as in all 
 things human. When we learn to look upon her, not as 
 a divinity, or even as an angel, but simply as a woman and 
 a mother, we shall see how, in the honor put upon her, 
 honor is done to all womanhood and all motherhood. Rec- 
 ognizing her in a relation which they also bear, all mothers, 
 without kneeling to her as an object of worship, may look 
 into her pure and saintly face, and find in her love and 
 tenderness an inspiration and an example. 
 
304 
 
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 Eut whatever the inward grace and spiritual beauty of 
 the mother of our Lord — pure and noble and saintly as 
 she was — yet she shines chiefly by reflected light. In the 
 celebrated picture of The Nativity by Correggio, the light 
 is made to emanate from the Child, from which it shines 
 in the faces of all the wondering group. This is as true 
 to reality as it is beautiful in aid — the chief glory of the 
 mother w T as in her relation to her Divine Child, and it is 
 the illumination of His countenance which casts up such 
 a radiance into her face. 
 
 As we picture to ourselves that scene, we imagine the 
 thoughts of that young mother concerning her child. She 
 remembered the words of the angel, and had often pon- 
 dered them in her heart ; and now bends over his cradle, 
 endeavoring to read the mystery of his fate. But her eyes 
 were holden that she could not see it. Well was it that it 
 was so, for amid all the signs and tokens of future glory, 
 there were dark intimations of a period of suffering that 
 must precede it. What meant those mysterious words of 
 Simeon : “A sword shall pierce through thine own soul 
 also ” ? The Christ was born, but to what was he born ? 
 Not to glory only, but to suffering such as the world had 
 not known. Could the mother in that hour of happiness 
 have foreseen all the future, her heart w r ould have tlirilled 
 not only with rapture, but with pain. She would have seen 
 coming to her child sorrows from which maternal love could 
 not defend him. Could she have foreseen the trials and the 
 bitterness of his mortal life — the agony in the Garden, the 
 mockings and scourging in Pilate’s hall, and the final scene, 
 of which she was to be a witness — she would have turned 
 away her eyes from the sight, and in her motherly shrink- 
 ing from it might have implored the God who gave him to 
 take him back again, ere yet he entered on a life of so much 
 suffering. 
 
WHERE CHRIST WAS BORN. 
 
 305 
 
 And yet beyond the darkness, beyond tbe clouds and 
 the shadows, there was a brightness such as never shone 
 on the world before. The full significance of that event 
 no imagination could conceive. The Magi, bending low 
 and offering gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, could 
 not grasp the infinite destinies that were wrapped up in 
 the life of him who lay apparently a helpless child m his 
 mother’s arms. Nor could that mother herself, in her fond- 
 est dreams, take in the great reality. Had her eyes been 
 opened to see what was dawning on the world, she would 
 have seen the new faith extending, till nations came to 
 measure their own existence by the years and centuries 
 from the birth of Christ. 
 
 Such are some of the thoughts that come to us in the 
 Grotto of the Nativity. If it be indeed the place of our 
 Saviour’s birth, then is there not on the round globe a spot 
 of greater interest than this, over which shone the guiding 
 star, and sang the heavenly voices : for it has witnessed 
 immeasurably the greatest event of all time. The birth of 
 Christ was the coming of God into humanity — the coming 
 of a new life into the world. The manger of Christ was 
 the cradle of our Beligion. Under this lowly roof was 
 born, not only Christ the Lord, but Christianity and Chris- 
 tendom, from which have flowed all the mighty influences 
 of modern civilization. He who would trace these to their 
 source, must follow them far back in the ages to this sub- 
 terranean chamber, as the fountain in the rock from which 
 they sprung. Of ail this what could that Hebrew mother 
 know? Only as she looked into that sleeping face, she 
 may have remembered how it was written, “A little child 
 shall lead them.’’ That child was to be indeed the leader 
 of the human race. All history was in that manger-cradle. 
 The fate of unborn generations was held in that little hand. 
 
CHAPTER XXm. 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN JERICHO. 
 
 At Bethlehem we were within six miles of Jerusalem, 
 but we did not enter it that day, nor yet on the morrow : 
 for Dr. Post, who is familiar with the geography of the 
 country, suggested that it would be an economy of time, 
 and of our facilities of travel, while we had our horses 
 and mules and complete camp equipage, to make a detour 
 to the Dead Sea and the Jordan, an excursion of two or 
 three days ; so that on reaching Jerusalem, we could dis- 
 miss our rather expensive retinue, and give ourselves up 
 to seeing the sights of the Holy City. Accordingly we 
 despatched Tohanna with all speed to Jerusalem for our 
 letters, while we were seeing Bethlehem, and in the after- 
 noon took horse for the Dead Sea. Hardly were we in the 
 saddle before we sprang off again : for we had come to the 
 famous well by the gate of Bethlehem, of which David, 
 who had often tasted its sweetness, so desired to drink 
 that his three mighty men brake through the host of the 
 Philistines, at the peril of their lives, to bring him a 
 draught. To this well the daughters of Bethlehem still 
 come to fill the jars which they balance so gracefully on 
 their shoulders. One was even now at the place, and at 
 our request drew up water from the ■well and gave us to 
 drink. It was a trifling incident, but a pleasant one, thus 
 to have water given us to drink from the Well of David at 
 the hand of a maiden of the Hill Country. 
 
 Keeping on our way, we soon left Bethlehem behind. 
 
THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 307 
 
 As we got out of the town, and our little company stretched 
 out in single file, I observed that we had an addition to our 
 party in a mounted guard. It is a significant token of the 
 utter absence of protection in this country under the rule 
 of the Sultan, that a traveller cannot go thirty miles from 
 Jerusalem, to the Dead Sea or the Jordan, without an 
 armed escort. Parties may venture unattended, but they 
 do it at their own risk. The Bedaween, who occupy these 
 hills and valleys, consider it as their “ stamping-ground,” 
 and that they have a right to levy toll on travellers. It is a 
 thing perfectly understood, and every party pays a certain 
 sum — a kind of blackmail — to the sheikh of the tribe, for 
 which he guarantees its safety. Without it, his own 
 retainers would be the first to rob the unprotected travel- 
 ler. Understanding so well from our past experience the 
 law of the desert, we were well pleased to see a fine 
 athletic Arab, well mounted and well armed, ride to the 
 front, and thus assume to be the “ body-guard ” of our 
 party. He was mounted on a light, active pony, and had 
 slung on his back a double-barrelled gun that looked as 
 though it might do execution in case of necessity. 
 
 The country we entered soon after leaving Bethlehem, 
 furnished the most perfect contrast to the terraced slopes, 
 covered with figtrees and vines, which gave such beauty 
 to the City of David. It was a succession of brown, barren 
 hills, to which the only relief was in the myriads of wild 
 flowers, and in occasional glimpses of the waters of the 
 Dead Sea, which appeared far below us in the basin of the 
 mountains. In its general aspect the region was almost 
 as desolate as the desert itself, and indeed its claim to that 
 character is indicated in the name it bears, for we are 
 now entering the Wilderness of Judea — the scene of the 
 ministry of John the Baptist. 
 
 After three or four hours of this rough riding, of 
 
308 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 ascents and descents, climbing the heights and going 
 down into the depths, as we rose to the summit of one of 
 these barren hills, we looked down into a deep gorge, in 
 which stood a Convent, whose position and appearance at 
 once reminded us of that at Mount Sinai, having quite as 
 much the look of a fox-tress as of a Convent. It is built on 
 the edge of a precipice. The brook Kedron, that flows 
 under the walls of Jerusalem, forcing a passage, not west- 
 ward to the Mediterranean, but east to the Dead Sea, has 
 in the lapse of ages worn a channel hundreds of feet in 
 depth, like a cafion of the Rocky Mountains. Although 
 the chasm is not so wide, yet the cliffs are not unlike those 
 one may see along the brink of the Niagara River. Here 
 has been built with infinite labor a huge structure spread- 
 ing over pei’haps an acre of ground, which in its day was a 
 famous monastery. It is fourteen hundred years old, hav- 
 ing been founded in the fifth centui-y. Saint Saba, who 
 gives it its name, must have belonged to the Church mili- 
 tant, if what tradition says be true, that on this vei-y spot 
 he attacked a hon in his den, like another Samson, and 
 after slaying the beast, took possession of his den as a cell. 
 Another version of the story is, that instead of killing the 
 hon, he subdued him by his saintly life and his prayers, so 
 that man and beast occupied the same cell, and lived in 
 perfect harmony. The reader can take his choice of these 
 two stories ; no doubt one is as time as the other. Here 
 in this lair of a wild beast the old fighting anchorite gath- 
 ered round him a large community of monks. In modem 
 times it has sadly dwindled, numbering now only some 
 three-score, who are cloistered or imprisoned here. "We 
 were told afterwards in Jerusalem that it was a sort of 
 ecclesiastical penitentiary to which rebellious priests or 
 monks were exiled to do penance for their sins — or per- 
 haps for their virtues, for they would be quite as likely to 
 
THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 309 
 
 be sent there if they showed too much zeal ; if their ardor 
 in their sacred office or fervor in preaching should suggest 
 an unfavorable contrast with their ecclesiastical superiors. 
 Nothing would be more likely to subdue any excess of 
 enthusiasm, to cool the ardor of a young apostle or the 
 fervor of his eloquence, than the silence of one of these 
 monks’ cells. He might pace up and down the walls 
 that overhang the depth below, and preach to the jack- 
 als that make their holes in the rocks on the other side 
 of the abyss ; but he would not be likely to disturb the 
 composure of “His Beatitude,” the Greek Patriarch of 
 Jerusalem. 
 
 The Convent serves also, in case of need, the purpose 
 of a caravanserai, not only for pilgrims to the Jordan, but 
 for ordinary travellers. The monks were quite willing to 
 give us lodgings, but we preferred our own clean beds and 
 the fresh air of our tents. We had, however, the full range 
 of the interior, going up-stairs and down-stairs, and even 
 on the roof, as well as through the prison-like quarters of 
 the holy fathers. 
 
 One token of the peculiar sacredness of this monastery, 
 is that it is jealously guarded against the intrusion of the 
 other sex. No woman must enter its sacred precincts. I 
 fear the holy fathers would be sorely scandalized if any 
 roguish traveller were to drop a lady’s slipper in the court. 
 How quickly it would be thrown over the walls into the 
 chasm of the Brook Kedron, unless perchance it fell under 
 the eye of some poor monk wdio had left in him a touch 
 of human feeling, and who might, if unobserved by his 
 brethren, snatch it up and hide it in the folds of his coarse 
 robe and take it to his cell, and there shed bitter tears at 
 the thought of the happy days of his childhood, when it 
 was not a sin to look in the warm and loving face of his 
 mother or sister. 
 
310 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 But this suggestion is quite too romantic, ancl too 
 human for the monks of Mar Saha, in whom every ves- 
 tige of our common nature was long since dried up and 
 withered away. Never have I seen such bloodless speci- 
 mens of humanity. No wonder that they are so, shut up 
 within these walls where the sunlight strikes them but a 
 few hours a day. They are like plants in a cellar — wasted 
 and withered. As Madame Roland exclaimed on her way 
 to the guillotine, “ Liberty ! what crimes are committed in 
 thy name,” so here we have to exhaust every exclamation 
 of horror and surprise at the unutterable follies committed 
 in the name of Religion. 
 
 It is very evident that women are not admitted here ; 
 if they were, they would soon bring a glow of sunshine 
 into the place, instead of leaving it dark, dingy, and musty 
 as it is ! If I were Patriarch of Jerusalem, I would re- 
 verse the order of things, and turn out the monks, and 
 leave it solely to the other sex. If it were taken possession 
 of by a company of nuns, or sisters of charity, they would 
 soon renovate it, and give it a look of cleanliness and com- 
 fort, that would make it a place fit for human habitation. 
 
 But sunlight gilds even prison walls, at least the out- 
 side of them, and when the sun rose over the mountains 
 of Moab, and shone into these deep gorges, it lighted 
 up the old Convent with a kind of glory, that set us all 
 alert and aglow as we mounted our ponies and picked our 
 way along the edge of the cliff by a narrow path walled 
 in by a parapet to keep us from going over the precipice — 
 a depth of six hundred feet — till our horses’ hoofs rattled 
 down into the rocky bed of the Kedron. Our mounted 
 guard rode ahead, with eye and ear alert, a3 if he might 
 spy an enemy lurking behind the rocks. We were told 
 that there was less danger now than there might have 
 been a few weeks before, as the Bedaween had but lately 
 
THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 311 
 
 driven their flocks across the Jordan into tire land of 
 Baslian for pasturage. 
 
 On emerging from tlie gorge of the Kedron, we found 
 tlie cliaracter of the country the same as yesterday ; the 
 same succession of ascents and descents, the same clam- 
 bering over rugged hills, winding around heights, and 
 descending steep declivities ; till gradually we came down 
 to the level of the Dead Sea. 
 
 The ride took us five hour’s, and was very fatiguing. 
 In the early morning, while the air was fresh, it was exhila- 
 rating ; but as the sun rose higher, striking full on the 
 slopes of the hills and into the deep valleys, the heat 
 became intense, so that by eleven o’clock we were glad to 
 take refuge in a clump of bushes, where we could get a 
 little shade and an hour’s rest, after which we mounted 
 again and rode on to the shore. 
 
 My first impression of the Dead Sea was one of sur- 
 prise at its beauty. Its very name seemed to be equiv- 
 alent to the Sea of Death. Indeed it had been supposed 
 that its life began with death ; that its existence dated from 
 an act of destruction, when the Cities of the Plain were 
 destroyed by fire from heaven ; and naturally I thought 
 of it as a dull, sluggish, almost stagnant, body of water, 
 lying in a “plain,” which was not a garden of fertility, 
 but a sandy desert, with perhaps here and there scat- 
 tered fragments upon the shore, the melancholy tokens 
 of its utter desolation. This idea vanishes at the first 
 glimpse caught from the side of the mountains. Instead 
 of the black waters of Death, we looked down upon a 
 deep blue expanse that had all the beauty of the Scotch 
 or Swiss lakes. Its one unique feature is its extreme 
 depression on the earth’s surface, for it is the lowest 
 body of water on the globe, lying thirteen hundred feet 
 below the level of the Mediterranean. But this rather 
 
312 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 increases the effect of the glassy surface, glistening like a 
 mirror so far clown in the depths of the earth, and deepens 
 the tranquil beauty of the mountain-guarded lake. 
 
 If we had been surprised at the beauty of the Dead 
 Sea, not less so were we at the mountains of Moab, to which 
 writers and painters have hardly done justice. Their appa- 
 rent height is of course greatly increased by the depres- 
 sion of the sea beneath. Rising up so steeply, they cast 
 a deep shadow on the waters which lie so far below. 
 It is a grand chain of mountains, clothed with that rich 
 purple tint which gives such beauty to the Apennines, as 
 seen in the journey from Florence to Rome. But these 
 summits have associations such as do not belong to the 
 Alban Hills, or any range seen from the Campagna : for it 
 was here that Moses came to take his first and only view 
 of the Promised Land, and to die. Scholars are divided 
 as to the precise point of the chain which is Mount Nebo, 
 and which is the peak of Pisgah ; but it could not have 
 been far away, for it was “ over against Jericho,” and so 
 must have been within the sweep of the eye, as we look up 
 from the shore of the Dead Sea. Other associations carry 
 us back far before the death of Moses to the time when 
 Abraham and Lot pastured their flocks in the plain whose 
 cities were destroyed. 
 
 Of course superstition which is busy everywhere in 
 Palestine, could not forego such an opportunity for legends 
 and imaginary terrors as was furnished by a lake that was 
 supposed to roll over buried cities. It has been said that 
 the waters are so leaden that they lie in a dead calm, 
 which no mountain breeze can stir into a ripple ; and 
 that birds cannot fly over a surface from which are sup- 
 posed to rise poisonous exhalations. This latter fancy is 
 not peculiar to the Dead Sea. In Ireland, a few miles out 
 of Dublin, is a glen embosomed in the hills, enclosing a 
 
THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 313 
 
 loch which is invested with the same charm of superstition. 
 Moore has introduced the legend in a little poem, beginning 
 “ By that lake whose gloomy shore 
 Skylark never warbles o’er.” 
 
 An Irish peasant gravely assured me that no skylark had 
 flown over it in thirteen hundred years ! He spoke with 
 as much assurance as if his memory extended over the 
 whole of that period. It is a pity that such poetic fancies 
 have to disappear before the prose of fact. But the legend 
 is just as true in regard to the Irish lake as to the Dead 
 Sea. If I had had the faith of a true believer, it would 
 have been unfortunate that just as we rode down to the 
 shore, birds, startled at our approach, took wing and flew 
 directly over these deadly waters ; and that a puff of wind, 
 that came down from the hills, should have set the lake in 
 motion, so that the waves came rippling up the beach, as 
 if they had been the clear waters of our own Lake George. 
 But when we came to bathe in the Dead Sea, we found it 
 indeed of very unusual weight and density, though not 
 exactly lead ; and when, to make a final test of its cpiality, 
 we took a swallow into our mouths, ugh ! it tasted of 
 Sodom and Gomorrah ! 
 
 Mounting our horses after our bath, we rode along the 
 beach around the head of the lake, to the mouth of the 
 Jordan, which here Hows through a long and level stretch 
 of sand, which it has thrown up in its annual floods, till at 
 last the impetuous stream checks its swift current as if 
 folding its robes to die with dignity, before it is quite 
 swallowed up and lost. This sandy shore is not hard like 
 a pebbled beach, and the horses’ hoofs began to sink 
 under us, so that we had to dismount and make our way 
 on foot, but we kept on, not content till we stood at the 
 very point of junction, where the rapid river, whose every 
 motion has been full of life, at last dies in the Dead Sea. 
 
314 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 Retracing our steps, we mounted again, and turned 
 northward to the Fords of the Jordan. As we could not 
 keep along the river bank because of the dense jungle, we 
 struck directly across the plain. The thick growth of 
 reeds and rushes hides the river, but as we could see 
 where it was flowing, it was easy to form a general idea 
 of its character. The Jordan is born among the hills, hav- 
 ing its source at the base of Herrnon, from which it bursts 
 forth like the streams that issue from the glaciers of the 
 Alps, with all the fury of a mountain torrent. This char- 
 acter it preserves throughout its course, darting on swiftly 
 like “ the arrowy Rhone.” Its rapid current gives it a 
 force which is sometimes very destructive, but for all that 
 it can hardly boast of the majesty of our broader but more 
 slow-moving rivers. I am afraid that our colored brethren, 
 who sing with such fervor 
 
 “ I want to go to heaven when I die, 
 
 To hear old Jordan roll,” 
 
 would be a little disappointed were they to see “old 
 Jordan,” and find that it did not roll — for it has nothing 
 of the peculiar swell and movement and sound of waves — 
 but it rushes, if that will do. It rises so rapidly when the 
 rains come or the snows melt on the sides of Hermon, that 
 it sweeps everything before it, so that there is a peculiar 
 aptness in the question of J eremiah : “ If thou hast run 
 with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how 
 canst thou contend with horses? And if in the land of 
 peace, wherein thou trustedst, they have wearied thee, then 
 how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan ?” 
 
 After an hour’s ride across the plain, we came to a 
 more open space, where the jungle on the river side parted 
 so as to allow us to come down to the brink, and we found 
 ourselves at the spot which is generally held to be the scene 
 of our Saviour’s baptism. Whether the tradition is founded 
 
THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 315 
 
 in truth, may well be doubted. But, at any rate, this is 
 devoutly believed to be the spot, and as such it is the most 
 frequented place of pilgrimage in the valley of the Jordan. 
 Here the pilgrims come by tens of thousands every year, 
 rushing into the stream, like the Hindoos into the Ganges, 
 as if the least touch of its holy waters were sufficient to 
 wash away sin. We too bathed like the rest, though with 
 no such sense of its miraculous virtue. However we may 
 smile at a too easy credulity, no Christian can come to 
 this place on the banks of the Jordan without emotion at 
 the thought that he is perhaps on the very spot, where our 
 Saviour stood while the Baptist poured the waters on His 
 sacred head, and the Spirit descending like a dove rested 
 upon Him, and a voice was heard from the cloud saying 
 “ This is My beloved Son ! ” 
 
 From the place of baptism, it is a two hours ride to 
 Jericho. If, as is probable, Joshua crossed the Jordan 
 at or near this point, we were now following the line 
 of his march to his first battle and his first victory. The 
 plain is not much more secure now than in the days 
 of the Hebrew leader ; for though in the course of cen- 
 turies it has been swept by countless armies — by the 
 Egyptian, the Babylonian, the Roman, the Moslem, and 
 the Crusader — yet it is to this day a lurking-place of 
 the Bedaween, who often despoil pilgrims and unpro- 
 tected travellers. 
 
 That afternoon’s ride was a fearful one because of the 
 heat. The sun poured down on the plain as on the desert, 
 and indeed it is like a desert in its desolate character. The 
 soil is fertile, and yet it produces little, simply for want 
 of irrigation, while on the border of the plain is a river 
 which might be made to overflow it as the Nile overflows 
 the valley of Egypt. The Doctor, who has a quick eye for 
 utilizing natural resources, immediately had a plan for 
 
31G 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 reclaiming this waste, and explained how, by the use of an 
 American invention, the swift-rushing Jordan could be 
 made to lift itself up in volume sufficient to water the 
 whole plain. With this it w T ould be a paradise of beauty, 
 for the depression of the basin of the Jordan and the Dead 
 Sea is such as to give it a tropical climate, and with a sup- 
 ply of water it would have a tropical vegetation. What it 
 might become is shown by what it now is on that side 
 of the valley where water reaches it, for as we come nigh 
 unto Jericho, the springs w r hich burst out of the hills, 
 and flow through natural and artificial channels, cause all 
 the products of the earth to flourish luxuriantly. We rode 
 through gardens and orchards, whose abundant growth 
 gave assurance of what the country might again become 
 with proper cultivation. 
 
 The name of Jericho (City of Palms) is pleasantly sug- 
 gestive of its ancient beauty. Irrigated and cultivated 
 as its environs then were, it may well have been embow- 
 ered in palms, which would not grow in the Hill Country 
 around Jerusalem. Alas ! not a palm grows here now ! 
 And yet the region around it retains its natural fertility, 
 and if “ well watered ” might again be what it once was, 
 “ as the garden of the Lord.” 
 
 But Jericho is a place, like so many others in the East, 
 where 
 
 “All save the spirit of man is divine.” 
 
 It is hardly possible to imagine the poverty and wretch- 
 edness of the inhabitants, whose filth and squalor are 
 in keeping with the mud-huts in which they live. This 
 must be the Jericho to which we sometimes dismiss 
 “ friends ” whose presence we do not absolutely require. 
 How often have I wished one and another of my acquaint- 
 ances— -I will not say my enemies — “ in Jericho ” ! It is 
 the general limbo to which we consign all bores and un- 
 
THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 317 
 
 comfortable people. And now I was “ in Jericho ” myself. 
 It is not surprising that I was rather impatient to get out 
 of it. So we hastened on through the town, to some spot 
 where we could enjoy the beauty of nature. This we 
 found close under the cliffs which form a background for 
 the plains, from the foot of which gushes what bears the 
 suggestive name of the Fountain of Elisha. The fountain 
 is a full one, discharging such a volume of water as keeps 
 a stream flowing, which is carried through the gardens and 
 orchards. 
 
 On the bank above this fountain we pitched our tents, 
 glad to rest after a day of great fatigue, rendered more 
 oppressive by the over-powering heat. It was a grateful 
 change to sit in our tent door in the cool of the day, and 
 listen to the murmur of the fountain under our feet. The 
 sun had sunk behind the hills, and now the moon, which 
 we had seen as a pale crescent hanging over the Moslem 
 camp at Nukhl, had grown in fulness, and crept upward in 
 the heavens till it hung directly over our heads. How it 
 softened the outline of the mountains of Moab, and even 
 threw a misty veil over the wretched town, slumbering 
 under its dense foliage ! 
 
 We had been told that one of the things to see, or 
 rather to hear, at Jericho, was the peculiar music of the 
 people, who had some rude native airs, to which they 
 chanted a song and executed a kind of war dance. Not 
 wishing to miss an opportunity to hear some real Arab 
 music — a thing we had not heard in all our wanderings on 
 the desert — we sent for these singers, and about eight 
 o’clock some twenty of them, men and women and chil- 
 dren, marched up to the front of our tent, and standing in 
 a line, began their unique performance, which consisted of 
 a quick motion of all together, swaying their bodies and 
 swinging their arms up and down, keeping time to these 
 
318 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE JORDAN. 
 
 movements with a kind of grunt. "While this went on, the 
 leader flourished a drawn sword in their faces, it being a 
 point of skill to come as near as possible without touching 
 them. Every few moments one or another would quit the 
 ranks and rush up to me with a piercing shriek and yell, 
 which they hissed in my very ears. After a few moments 
 I thought I had had enough of this “ concert,” and told the 
 dragoman that he might tell them the Howadji was satis- 
 fied. “ What shall I give them ? ” I asked ; to which 
 Yohanna, who always liked to play the prince with other 
 people’s money, replied in a careless sort of way “ Give 
 them a napoleon — four medjidies” (Turkish dollars) ; to 
 which I immediately responded by handing over the 
 money, which was probably four times what any one used 
 to the ways of the country would have given. “A fool 
 and his money are soon parted.” It is in this way that 
 “ high art ” is patronized by travellers in the land of 
 the East. The fellows went off in great glee, probably 
 thinking they had caught “ a green one.” I heard them 
 shouting all the way down to Jericho. However, I was 
 glad to have them depart, much better pleased with a 
 chorus which now filled my ears, and which was genuine, 
 home-made music. It was the croaking of the frogs, which 
 rose up from all the plain, and in which there was more 
 music than in the throats of all the Arabs from here to 
 Mount Sinai. 
 
 "While this was going on, the muleteers had been sit- 
 ting round their camp fires, smoking their pipes. At 
 length the fires burned low, and they dropped off to 
 slumber, while we lay down in our tent, with the flood of 
 moonlight pouring over us, and the sound of rushing 
 waters to lull us to rest. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 GOING IJP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 It was our last night in tents before reaching J erusa- 
 lem, and we were to mount but for one more ride. We 
 could not miss such an opportunity to see the sun rise 
 over the mountains of Moab, and were up long before 
 daybreak, watching the approach of the dawn. The wea- 
 ther, which had been propitious through all our journey- 
 ing on the desert, favored us to the end. The sun came 
 up without a cloud, and shone down into the plain of the 
 Jordan and the Dead Sea. Looking out upon the land- 
 scape in this morning light, one could see how it was that 
 this natural basin once supported a large population, and 
 became the seat of one of the great cities of the East. The 
 valley of the Jordan at this point is eight miles broad — a 
 breadth as great as that of the valley of the Nile above 
 Cairo ; and here on its western border rose a city of such 
 splendor that after the Roman conquest Antony did not 
 think it an unworthy gift to offer to Cleopatra, who in 
 turn sold it to Herod, then governor of Judea. However 
 little claim Herod may have had to the title of “ Great ” 
 (although Augustus recognized him as “the second man 
 in the Empire,” inferior only to himself), he had at least 
 one Imperial taste — that for architecture, as he showed 
 in the rebuilding of the Temple. Jericho furnished lum 
 a Winter retreat when he fled from the cold heights of 
 Jerusalem ; and here he built a palace, where he could 
 take refuge, and find under his palms the Summer warmth 
 
320 
 
 GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 and mildness that he might have found on the banks of 
 the Nile. All is gone now, as much as the walls of the 
 earlier Jericho, which fell before the rams’ horns of the 
 priests in the army of Joshua. Nature only remains — 
 nature and history — for “ the past at least is secure,” * 
 and here, as at the Pyramids, if not “forty,” over thirty 
 “ centuries look down upon us.” On the crest of yonder 
 mountains, we still discern the figure of Moses ; while in 
 the valley below, more than a thousand years afterward, 
 was heard “ the voice of one crying in the wilderness,” and 
 “John came preaching repentance and baptism for the 
 remission of sins ” : and nearer still, the range at whose 
 very foot we are camped, bears the name of Quarantana, 
 from the belief, once commonly accepted, that it was the 
 mountain of the temptation, where our Lord after His 
 baptism, and before He entered on His ministry, spent 
 forty days of fasting in the wilderness. Thus do the Law 
 and the Gospel look across the plain of the Jordan, as if 
 signalling to each other from the tops of the mountains. 
 
 While we were thus musing on the scene, the tents were 
 struck, and the muleteers brought us out- horses. Our last 
 ride was not to be a solitary one : for there were two or 
 three parties that had come down from Jerusalem, and 
 camped near us, and we mounted together. Among them 
 was a company of Frenchmen whom we had met at 
 Mount Sinai, and afterwards at Bethlehem, who were 
 so intelligent and courteous that I felt quite sure the 
 young men must be scions of some old Legitimist fam- 
 ilies, who, under the direction of a chaplain (there was a 
 priest in the company), were strengthening their faith by 
 a visit to the Holy Places of the East. "We met them fre- 
 quently during the Holy Week in Jerusalem, and were 
 confirmed in our impression. They were well mounted 
 and well armed, though they did not omit the precaution 
 
GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 321 
 
 of taking a guide, whose presence was a pledge of their 
 safety, as he was the son of the sheikh of the tribe of 
 Bedaween who claim the wilderness of Judea as their own. 
 Thus breaking camp, one after another our several parties 
 went pricking across the plain to the foot of the hills. 
 
 Before we turn our horses’ heads to begin the ascent, a 
 singular monument in the distance arrests our attention. 
 As it lies in the direction of the Dead Sea, and is glaring 
 white — it shines like crystal in the morning sun— we might 
 fancy it to be Lot’s wife turned into a pillar of salt. But 
 no, it looks more like a tomb, and indeed a tomb it is — a 
 shrine which is held in great reverence by the Moslems, as 
 it well may be, considering that it is the tomb of no less a 
 personage than Moses himself ! The tomb of Moses ? But 
 is it not written that Moses died on Mount Nebo, and that 
 “ no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day ” ? Ah 
 yes, so it was, but so it is no longer. That was said in Old 
 Testament times, when the world did not yet know all the 
 miracles of faith and of credulity. As Sgnarelle says, in the 
 play of Moliere, the Medecin Malgre Lui, to one who tim- 
 idly suggests that “ the heart is on the left side of the body, 
 and the liver on the right ” : “ Yes, it was so formerly, but we 
 have changed all that.” So with Moses. It is true he died 
 on Mount Nebo, and no man knew of his sepulchre, but of 
 course Moses knew himself; and if not comfortable where he 
 was, or if any religious purpose required it, could remove 
 at his will. Accordingly he rose out of his sepulchre, prob- 
 ably in the darkness of the night, and stole down the moun- 
 tain side and across the plain, to put himself in a position 
 to receive the homage of the faithful, the proof of which is, 
 that at this very moment I see his tomb on a hillock 
 yonder ; and since the tomb of Moses is there, it were a 
 wretched unbeliever who should dare to suggest that the 
 body of Moses is not in it ! Such is the story of the 
 
322 
 
 GOIXG UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 Moslems. I may not have given it precisely, but it was 
 something not less ridiculous. The Bible account was 
 well enough in its day, but the Moslems have “ changed 
 all that,” and now they have the body of Moses just where 
 they want it for their own purposes, and what those pur- 
 poses are is quite evident — it is to make a shrine that 
 should excite Moslem devotion. They saw how the pil- 
 grimages to Jerusalem reanimated the spirit of Christian 
 believers ; how it strengthened their faith and kindled 
 then - zeal. As a counterpoise to this influence, which 
 they knew not how to resist, some wise old Mollahs, who 
 lived here six hundred years ago, hit upon the happy 
 expedient of setting up a shrine of their own, which 
 should have equal attractions with that of the Holy Sep- 
 ulchre. For this it was only necessary to have the potent 
 name of a prophet as a spell to conjure by, and who so 
 great as “My Lord Moses,” whose name was held in 
 reverence alike by Moslems, Jews, and Christians? To 
 make the opposition more effective, they fixed the time of 
 pilgrimage in the Holy "Week, when the Christians should 
 be thronging the streets of Jerusalem ; so that at the very 
 moment that they were coming in at the Jaffa gate on one 
 side, the Moslems should be coming out at St. Stephen’s 
 gate on the other. We shall meet crowds of them on our 
 way this morning. 
 
 Leaving the tomb of Moses, we turn up the mountain 
 side. The air of the hills stirs our blood, and we quicken 
 our horses’ steps. But whoever comes up this road should 
 not ride so fast as not to pause now and then, and turn 
 back to take one more look at a landscape, which he will 
 remember for a life-time. 
 
 We are now on one of the great roads of Palestine, 
 which in ancient times, as it led directly to the heart of 
 the country, often resounded with the tramp of armed men. 
 
GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 323 
 
 By this passage entered many an Eastern invader, “ coming 
 up like a lion from the swelling of Jordan.” But we are 
 just now more interested in following the track of pilgrims 
 than of conquerors. By this road the tribes went up to 
 Jerusalem to the Passover. Not only was it the avenue 
 of communication between Jerusalem and Jericho, but 
 between the tribes on the two sides of the Jordan. It was 
 the road which would be taken by those who crossed the 
 Jordan to come up to the annual feasts. As we begin the 
 ascent, we recall the scenes two thousand years ago, when 
 the Jews thronged up these mountain steeps, singing as 
 they went the Songs of Degrees : “ I will lift up mine eyes 
 unto the hills, from whence cometh my help ” ; “I was 
 glad when they said unto me, Let us go into the house of 
 the Lord : Pray for the peace of Jerusalem ; they shall 
 prosper that love thee : Peace be within thy walls, and 
 prosperity within thy palaces”; “They that trust in the 
 Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be removed, 
 but abideth forever”; “Behold how good and how pleasant 
 it is for brethren to dAvell together in unity ! As the dew 
 of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the moun- 
 tains of Zion : for there the Lord commanded the blessing, 
 even life forevermore.” 
 
 These festivals, by bringing the tribes to the capital, 
 strengthened the national as well as the religious feeling, 
 and, in a double sense, made them one people. In those 
 days there were none of the resources of modern civilization 
 to bring the ends of a country together — no railroads cours- 
 ing through the valleys and over the mountains, no tele- 
 graphs to flash signals from tribe to tribe. The tribes were 
 as widely separated as nations are now. Those on the oppo- 
 site sides of the Jordan were as far asunder as England 
 and France are to-day, separated by the British Channel. 
 But at the annual feasts the people came, not only from 
 
324 
 
 GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 Judali, which was nigh to Jerusalem, but from Simeon in 
 the South to Dan in the North ; from the sea-coasts of 
 Asher and Zebulon and Naphtali ; and from Reuben, Gad, 
 and Manasseh, on the other side of the Jordan. Hither 
 they flocked from every direction — not men alone, but 
 whole families, husbands and wives, with their little ones 
 — to share in the general rejoicing. Those who came from 
 beyond Jordan, crossed the plain, and as they began to 
 mount the hills, they sang the psalm of David : “Who shall 
 ascend into the hill of the Lord ? or who shall stand in his 
 holy place ? ” Thus was their Religion associated, not with 
 sadness, but with joy. The feasts were times of national re- 
 joicing, when Ephraim did not envy Judah, nor Judah vex 
 Ephraim, but all joined together, singing the anthems of 
 their common deliverance. These festivals were the great 
 events of the year — which made the people feel that they 
 had a country, that they were children of a common race, 
 inheritors of a common faith, and sharers of a common 
 
 j°y- 
 
 These ancient Jewish festivals are no more ; though the 
 few thousand Jews in Jerusalem still keep the Passover, yet 
 the Temple is gone, and there is no splendid ritual to at- 
 tract the pious Jew, nor is there a large population — the 
 remnant of the tribes — to send a throng of pilgrims to the 
 solemn feasts. But Christian festivals have ta,ken the place 
 of the Jewish ; to the Passover has succeeded the Holy 
 Week, the great season of celebration by the Christian 
 world, for which pilgrims are now hastening to the Holy 
 City. As we press on, they gather before us and behind 
 us, swelling the train. Numbers are on the road, some 
 on horseback and some on foot. The latter we pass 
 quickly, while others who are better mounted than we, 
 dash by us at full speed. Here is a rider who belongs to 
 the “ awkward squad,” as he comes up with legs flapping 
 
GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 325 
 
 like a pair of wings, and saddle-bags on bis lank beast, 
 looking like a country doctor. I tbink be is a German 
 professor. Russians are bere in great numbers. Tbe cos- 
 tumes and tbe languages of tbe East mingle witb those of 
 tbe West. Thus tbe pilgrims move forward, a promiscu- 
 ous crowd, yet all witb one destination — “ going up to 
 Jerusalem.” 
 
 Half way up tbe ascent is laid tbe scene of tbe Par- 
 able of tbe Good Samaritan. Altbougb Christ merely sup- 
 posed a case for illustration, yet tradition could not miss 
 such an opportunity, and accordingly it is accepted as a 
 •veritable occurrence, and we have even pointed out to us 
 tbe place of tbe inn to which tbe Good Samaritan con- 
 veyed the poor wayfarer, and left him to be cared for. One 
 thing strikes us in this as in other parables of our Lord — 
 tbe felicity and aptness in tbe choice of illustrations. “A 
 certain man went down to Jericho and fell among thieves.” 
 Why to Jericho rather than to Joppa ? It seemed to me, 
 while riding over it, as if this were a road for highway- 
 men, as it is a lonely mountain road, witb deep glens by 
 tbe wayside where robbers might lurk, and wait tbe ap- 
 proach of tbe unsuspecting traveller. Indeed I fear if a 
 lonely wanderer were to go down to Jericho to-day, un- 
 armed and unprotected, be would meet tbe same fate. 
 
 But all tbe pilgrims are not going one way : as some 
 are going up, others are coming down. We met great 
 numbers of Moslems on their way to tbe tomb of Moses. 
 They came, not in a long procession, but in families, or 
 in little companies of friends, decked out in their finery, 
 like Italian peasants for a festa, and driving before them 
 sheep and goats for sacrifices and for food during tbe three 
 days of their festival. Here and there a booth served the 
 purpose of a wayside inn, and invited pilgrims of all races 
 and all creeds. We declined their alluring temptations 
 
 t 
 
326 
 
 GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 but made our own repast on a rising ground by tlie road- 
 side, where, with sheltering rock behind and a smooth 
 sward in front, we watched the picturesque cavalcade (for 
 some mounted on horses and camels mingled with those 
 on foot), which went streaming down to the valley of the 
 Jordan. 
 
 But all associations of ordinary pilgrims sink out of 
 sight in the thought of one solitary Traveller. The su- 
 preme interest of this road from Jericho is that it was 
 trodden by our blessed Lord when He came up to Jerusa- 
 lem for the last time. Looking backward and downward, 
 we seem to see a Form slowly ascending, with weary foot, 
 as of one who bore a heavy burden, and on whom already 
 fell the shadow of the cross. 
 
 As we advance, these associations thicken upon us, until 
 we come to Bethany, so full of tender and sacred memo- 
 ries. Here we are, as it were, in the very home of our 
 Saviour, almost as much as if we were in Nazareth or 
 Capernaum : for Bethany is only two miles from Jerusa- 
 lem, and the house of Mary and Martha was His frequent 
 retreat from the great city. We turned our horses into a 
 lane, and rode through the poor village to visit the tomb 
 of Lazarus, which is under ground, and to which we de- 
 scend by a stair in the rock. We have come to distrust 
 monkish legends so much that we are suspicious of any 
 which rest merely on tradition, unsupported by evidence ; 
 yet the bare possibility that here tradition has seized on 
 the right spot, is enough to hush to silence the visitor who 
 ’ gropes into the darkness, and stands, it may be, at the very 
 grave’s mouth where “ Jesus wept,” giving way to a burst 
 of emotion such as overwhelms a mourner who bends over 
 the tomb which has received the object dearest to him on 
 earth. Another spot is pointed out as the place where 
 stood the house of Mary and Martha. Both sites are 
 
GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 327 
 
 merely traditional. Nor does it matter. It is enough that 
 they were in Bethany, of the identity of which there has 
 never been a question. Somewhere, within a very short 
 compass, they must have been ; and as we move slowly 
 along the road, we can see the Saviour approaching, met 
 by a bowed form clinging to His knees, and hear a wail of 
 agony : Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not 
 
 died ! 
 
 And now we rise to the summit, and the Holy City 
 bursts upon our view, just as we expected to see it — its 
 walls giving it the appearance of a fortress, with deep val- 
 leys encircling it like a castle moat, and the hills girdling 
 it round like outer defences of a central citadel. To get 
 this eastern view was one object which we had in making 
 our detour to the Dead Sea and the J ordan, instead of 
 entering Jerusalem directly from Bethlehem. Dean Stanley 
 — the writer who has caught most perfectly the picturesque- 
 ness, as well as the overwhelming historical associations, of 
 “ Sinai and Palestine ” — says “ There is one approach which 
 is really grand, namely, from Jericho and Bethany. It is 
 the approach by which the army of Pompey advanced — 
 the first European army that ever confronted it — and it 
 is the approach of the triumphal entry of the Gospels. 
 
 1 of every one coming from 
 
 South, may be summed up 
 
 in the simple expression used by one of the modern trav- 
 ellers : ‘ I am strongly affected, but greatly disappointed.’ 
 But no human being could be disappointed who first saw 
 Jerusalem from the east.” 
 
 On the hill commanding this view, we now stood over 
 against the city, separated only by the Valley of Jehosh- 
 apliat — a valley so deep and frowning in its rocky sides 
 that in the terrified vision of the Prophet, it was to be 
 the scene of final judgment. [“ Multitudes, multitudes 
 
328 
 
 GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 in tlie valley of decision ! ”] Mahomet caught the allusion 
 and improved upon it. On yonder wall lies a long round 
 stone, the fragment of a column, projecting from the para- 
 pet like a piece of artillery. On the day of final award, 
 says the Koran, from that stone of judgment a line no 
 bigger than a hair will be stretched, over which will pass 
 the souls of the faithful, while unbelievers will be precipi- 
 tated into the valley below, which is a symbol of the 
 eternal abyss. 
 
 But we give only a glance downward, as our gaze 
 becomes fixed on the city itself which has come so near. 
 There is Jerusalem, beautiful for situation, the joy of the 
 whole earth, the city of the great King ! At the southeast 
 corner within the walls, stood the Temple of Solomon (we 
 are directly opposite the Beautiful Gate), and now stands 
 the Mosque of Omar- ; and as we are at an elevation of 
 nearly two hundred feet above it, we look down into the 
 temple area. 
 
 Here, as before, one association overpowers all others — 
 that of the Great Master, whose sacred presence has made 
 all this holy ground. On our right is the Mount of Olives, 
 to which He so often withdrew to meditate and pray ; and 
 as we see its position relative to Jerusalem, we can see 
 why it may have been chosen as His place of retire- 
 ment. It was close at hand, and yet separated by a deep 
 valley, which protected it from intruders, as well as from 
 the noise and tumult of the city. It was at once near 
 and far — a place to be reached by a short walk, and yet as 
 hushed and still as the mountain top to which He so often 
 retired to pray. 
 
 Thus the most tender and sacred associations connected 
 with the person of our Lord, may be said to cluster on the 
 eastern side of Jerusalem. Over this road from the east, 
 He passed on His way “ going up to Jerusalem ” to die ; 
 
GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 329 
 
 and here when all was over, when death was past, He came 
 to take farewell of His disciples. Of course legend is busy 
 fixing on this or the other spot as the scene of the ascen- 
 sion. In one place they show the print of our Saviour’s 
 foot as He pressed the earth for the last time. But that is 
 of little moment. This only we know, that it was from 
 Bethany ; and though we cannot fix the precise spot — 
 though we cannot point to the print of His foot in a rock — 
 yet as it was from one or other of these heights, all of 
 which are near, it must have been within the sweep of 
 the eye. “And he led them out as far as to Bethany ; 
 and he lifted up his hands and blessed them. And it came 
 to pass, while he blessed them, he was parted from them, 
 and carried up into heaven.” Was there ever a more 
 simple announcement of a great event ? In so few words 
 is depicted that wondrous scene. With such simplicity 
 throughout is told the story of our Saviour’s life on earth. 
 So brief a span is it from the beginning to the end — from 
 the hill of Bethlehem to the hill of Bethany. If, as some 
 pretend, the Gospel be all a myth, a poetic fancy, surely 
 never was any poet’s dream so perfect and complete — 
 beginning with the song of angels, and ending with the 
 flight to heaven ! And what a harmony in all that life and 
 death and rising again ! Over his cradle the angels sang, 
 Peace on earth, good will to men ! And the last sight of 
 him was in the act of blessing the disciples he left behind. 
 So he came and so he went away : with hands stretched out 
 in benediction, and words of blessing descending from the 
 depths of air, till “ a cloud received him out of their sight.” 
 No wonder that his disciples caught inspiration from that 
 upward flight, “ and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, 
 and were continually in the temple blessing God.” 
 
 With such thoughts we advance towards the city, 
 descending the slope along which Christ made his tri- 
 
330 
 
 GOING UP TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 umplial entry, when the multitude thronged his steps, and 
 cast palm branches in the way, and shouted Hosannas. 
 "We heard no such glad salutations, but sounds quite other 
 than those which welcomed the Prince of Peace : for at 
 that moment cannon were firing at St. Stephen’s gate, 
 out of which wrns streaming a motley procession, with 
 waving banners, beginning then march over the road by 
 which we had come, to the Valley of the Jordan and the 
 Tomb of Moses ! It was a singular coincidence that 
 Moslem pilgrims should be pouring out of Jerusalem just 
 as Christian pilgrims were pouring in. With such a 
 tumult before our eyes, and such a sound in our ears, 
 we descended the slope and crossed the brook Kedron ; 
 and when we had climbed the opposite bank, and came 
 under the old walls, and passed through the ancient portal, 
 “ our feet stood within thy gates, O Jerusalem.” 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
“Two as Interesting and valuable books of travel as have 
 been published in this country.” New York Express. 
 
 Dr. Field’s Travels Round the World. 
 
 i. 
 
 FROM THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY TO THE 
 GOLDEN HORN. 
 
 II. 
 
 FROM EGYPT TO JAPAN. 
 
 By HENRY M. FIELD, D.D., Editor of the N. Y. Evangel!** 
 Each 1 vol. 12mo. Cloth, gilt top, uniform in style, $2. 
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES. 
 
 By George Ripley, LL.D., in the New York Tribune. 
 
 Few recent travellers combine so many qualities that are adapted to command the 
 Interest and sympathy of the public. While he indulges, to its fullest extent, the charac- 
 teristic American curiosity with regard to foreign lands, insisting on seeing every object 
 ctf interest with his own eyes, shrinking from no peril or difficulty in pursuit of infor- 
 mation — climbing mountains, descending mines, exploring pyramids, with no sense of 
 Batiety or weariness, he has also made a faithful study of the highest authorities on 
 the different subjects of his narrative, thus giving solidity and depth to his descriptions, 
 without sacrificing their facility or grace. 
 
 From the New York Observer. 
 
 The present volume comprises by far the most novel, romantic, and interesting part 
 of the Journey [Round the World], and the story of it is told and the scenes are painted 
 by the hand of a master of the pen. Dr. Field is a veteran traveller; he knows well 
 what to see, and (which is still more impoitant to the reader) he knows well what to 
 describe and how to do it. 
 
 By Chas. Dudley Warner, in the Hartford Courant. 
 
 It is thoroughly entertaining; the reader’s interest is never allowed to flag ; the 
 author carries us forward from land to land with uncommon vivacity, enlivens the way 
 with a good humor, a careful observation, and treats all peoples with a refreshing liberality. 
 
 From Rev. Dr. R. S. Storrs. 
 
 It is indeed a charming book — full of fresh information, picturesque description, and 
 thoughtful studies of men, countries, and civilizations. 
 
 From Prof. Roswell D. Hitchcock, D.D. 
 
 In this second volume, Dr. Field, I think, has surpassed himself in the first, and 
 this is saying a good deal. In both volumes the editorial instinct and habit are conspic- 
 uous. Dr. Prime has said that an editor should have six senses, the sixth being 
 “a sense of the interestitig .” Dr. Field has this to perfection. * * * 
 
 From the New York Herald. 
 
 It would be impossible by extracts to convey an adequate idea of the variety, 
 abundance, or picturesque freshness of these sketches of travel, without copying a gieat 
 part of the book. 
 
 Rev. Wm. M. Taylor, D.D., In the Christian at Work. 
 
 Dr. Field has an eye, if we may use a photographic illustration, with a great deal ol 
 wflodion in it, so that he sees very clearly. He knows also how to describe just those 
 things in the different places visited by him which an intelligent man wants to know 
 about. 
 
 The above books for sale by all booksellers , or will be sent, post or express 
 tkarges paid, upon receipt of the price by the publishers. 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 
 
 743 amd 745 Broadway, New York. 
 

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