VferararSjiOBÂTiïrs CO.CHICAO^-
THE
HANDWEITING OF GOD
IN
EGYPT, SINAI,
AND THE
HOLY LAND:
THE
RECORDS OF A JOURNEY FROM THE GREAT VALLEY OF THE WEST
TO THE SACRED PLACES OF THE EAST.
BY REV- D. A. RANDALL.
WITH
MAPS, DUGRAMS, AND NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS.
' (Stt ^nCbtm Is ibt jltanbintitCnj ot (QcoH, anil all objuts at inoilu (e It"
PHILADELPHIA:
JOHN E. POTTER AND COMPANY,
J. W. GOODSPEED & CO., 148 LAKE STREET, CHICAGO, ILL., anv
.37 PARK ROW, NEW YORK.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 186'*, by
D. A. RANDALL,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the
Southern District of Ohio.
TO MY CHURCH,
VO WHOSE STUPATHT, BHCOÜBAOEHENT AND PBATEBS, I AH DEEFLT NDEBTEb .
TO MY SUNDAY-SCHOOL,
WHOSE KIND BBHEUBBANCEB DÜBINa HT JOÜBNET, AND WELCOHE OBEETINOS DB
MY BETDBN, HAYE BEEN DIKE SUNLIOHT UPON MY HBABT ;
TO MY FAMILY,
FOR THRIB PBOHPT AND CHEEBFÜL AID IN HT TBAYELS AND LABOBS
AND TO MY NUMEROUS FRIENDS,
FOR THRIB ACTS OF KINDNESS AND WOBDS OF CHEEB,
THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,
WITH THE HOPE THAT THET HAT AIL ENJOY AS HUGH IN THE KEADIHO,
AS THB ADm<W HAS IN COLLECTING AND PBEPABING
WRB CONTENTS OF IT.
INTRODUCTION".
"Why another book of travels and observations in the East V
lias not the ground been traveled over, again and again, and
book after book been written? What new, interesting, or in¬
structive, can be presented ?
The writer is aware that many questions of this kind will
arise, on reading the title-page of this book. He apprehends
many will think the efibrt an unnecessary or superfluous one ]
still, he has resolved to give the public the book.
1. Because books, in the present condition of socieiy, have
become an essential requisite for the dissemination of knowl¬
edge, the promotion of morality and religion, or the increase
of the pleasures and enjoyments of the public. If the labor
thus demanded is one of duty, the author should not shrink
from bearing his share ; if one of profit or pleasure, he has as
good a claim to the privilege of writing and publishing as any
other one.
2. The countries of which this book treats are those of in¬
tense interest to all classes of persons. Here are the records
and monuments of the early ages of'the world. Here are his¬
toric pages of which none should be ignorant. From these,
new lessons are continually being unfolded. Here God has left
the traces of his footsteps, the handwriting of his power, and
the memorials of his mighty wonders.
3. A book of travels, if written with taste and skill, will
always be an interesting and instructive book. Each succeed¬
ing person, in his visit, will view things and scenes in new
aspects; catch the inspiration of new thoughts and lessons;
and bring truth to at least some myids, arrayed in new and in¬
viting arapery.
4. Many of the books on the East are too learned for
VI
INTRODUCTION.
popular use ; aböunding in Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic tecb-
ni cali ties, and devoted to the discussion of disputed questions,
thej may be of great importance and higniy useful to the scholar,
but they do not interest the great mass of common readers.
Others, again, pass so rapidly from place to place, and are so
general in their descriptions, the reader gets but very imperfect
ideas of scenes and localities. Tuese extremes the writer oí
this work has designed to avoid. It has been his object to
select the most prominent and important things, and to describe
them in a plain and familiar style, with definiteness and par¬
ticularity, and to condense into the work what he supposes the
common reader would most desire to know. He has not in¬
dulged in learned dissertations, or critical discussions ; has not
endeavored to settle 'controverted questions, dates, and locali¬
ties ; indeed, it has not been his intention to make a book foi
the learned or the critical, but to give the public a volume to
interesf and instruct the family and the common reader.
5. Thousands of persons have not read the books that have
already been published; not because they have no desire to
read, but because they have not been brought within their
reach. Many of these works have had a wide circulation, and
.^ave done great good, and yet multitudes have not been reach¬
ed by them. The present volume, from circumstances of au¬
thorship, publication, and the personal relations of the writer,
may reach and influence many tha,t other works have not reach¬
ed, and thus add something to the general amount of good
accomplished.
6. This book is designed to be different, in several particulars,
from others that have preceded it. If it were not, the author
might spare himself the labor of writing and the expense of
publishing. It is designed not only to present thè interesting
and exciting incidents of travel, but to connect with the scenes
and places visited the most prominent and instructive historic
events that have characterized them ; drawing from them illus¬
trations of scripture, events of history, sketches of biography,
and, more especially, the important moral lessons they are cal¬
culated to suggest, and such as it is hoped will benefit the heart
and the life.
INTRODUCTION.
vu
7. Because there is yet much to be learned, and deep im
pressions to be made, from the new revelations that are con¬
tinually coming to us from these ancient and sacred localities,
God has kept two copies of his historic records of our race.
One was written on parchment and put into the hands of man.
It has been watched over with jealous care, strangely preserved
and handed down from generation to gjeneration. • The other
was. written on monumental records, the sculptured tablets of
now extinct nations, and buried beneath the crumbling piles
and moss-grown niounds of ruined cities. The wasting ravages
of war have rolled over it ; the foot of the ruthless barbarian
has trampled it ; the elements in their fury have combined for
its destruction. And yet, during the long lapse of ages, his
omniscient eye has watched over it, and his almighty hand has
guarded it; and lo ! in his own appointed time he lifts the vail,
and page after page comes up from the disentombed cities of
antiquity—from Babylon, and Nineveh, and Egypt, and Syria
—and the two books lay their testimony side by side, and both
conspire to establish the testimony of God.
None can be too familiar with these things. The present
aspects of the countries through which this hook will lead the
reader, the present condition of the people, the majestic ruins,,
the time-worn monuments, entombed cities and temples, will
all speak with an instructive and impressivé voice. They will
talk to us of things grave and serious in antiquity ; they will
teach us important and interesting lessons in religious faith ;
they will give us visions of things majestic and glorious in
promise. Some of these lessons it is the design of this hook
to record for the benefit of the reader.
These reasons the writer deems a sufficient apology for giving
a new book to the public. In preparing it, he has had before
him the ü^orks of a large number of authors who have pre¬
ceded him in a similar labor. From these he has been enabled
to gather many facts and hints, that have materially aided him
in improving and enriching the work. lie has not deemed it
necessary to burden the pages by continued reference to the
works thus consulted. In using them, he finds, in collating
difierent authors, he has only done what others have done be-
inteodxjction.
fore him. To one only would he in particular acknowledge
his indebtedness—Mubkat's Guide Books. . His Handbooks of
Egypt, Syria, arid Palestine, were his constant companions in
his travels, and have been used by him in the preparation of
his notes for publication ; and he has often been surprised at
the,fullness, particularity, and accuracy of the information they
contain. Ho visitor i|i those lands should be without them.
The illustrations found in the work have been selected be¬
cause they are illustrations. A number of them have been pre¬
pared expressly for the work, and all of them contain accurate
views of the places they are designed to represent, as the au¬
thor can testify from personal observation. They have been
inserted, not merely as embellishments to adorn the work, but
as helps, to enable the reader to obtain correct ideas of import¬
ant localities. Where maps and diagrams were necessary to
illustrate the text, they have been prepared. These things have
added materially to the expense of the work, but will be of
great value to the reader.
For the convenience of those wljo wish to have the work
bound in two volumes, it has been divided into two parts—one
on Egypt and Sinai, the other on the Holy Land ; and the pag¬
ing and indexing have been made to correspond to this arrange¬
ment.
And now the journey has been completed, the\laborious task
of writing ended, and the work is placed in your hands. The
author, in his travels and in his labors, has not been unmindful
of his dépendance on Him whose favor alone can give success.
May His blessing attend the work, and may it prove a source oí
interest, instruction, and moral improvement, wherever it goes
EGYPT AND SINAI.
" Egypt shall be a desolation,
And Edom shall be a desolate wilderness,
For the violencé against the children of Judah,
Because they have shed innocent blood in their land."
JoBL, tii. 19.
"O, all-preparing Providence divine!
In thy large book what secrets are enrolled ?
What sundry helps doth thy great power assign.
To prop the course which thou intend'st to hold! "
Drattos
N V I
(i#"
<»»s 10k. 'mil,,'/:
EGYPT AND SINAI.
CHAPTER I.
Columbus to Boston—Voyage Across the Atlantic.
On the third of January, 1861,1 left the depot at Columbus,
Ohio, for a tour in Bible lands. Refreshed by a night's rest
among my friends in Cleveland, at ten o'clock the next morn¬
ing I was again upon the cars, whirling onward toward Bufialo.
A slight fall of snow during the night had carpeted the earth,
and festooned the forests, and clothed the hills in a beautiful
drapery of white. Upon, one side, as we passed, was first the
high bluff bank crowned by the city, then the level open coun¬
try, dotted over with neat farm-houses, while occasionally a
thriving village nestled among its forest of shade trees, and
lifted its lofty church spires toward heaven. Upon the other
hand was the broad expanse of the Erie. The shore was
bounded by a heavy lock of ice, reaching a mile or more from
the land ; beyond that a blue line of water, then another girdle
of ice ; while beyond all, the white-capped waves and the fieecy
clouds, wearing the peculiar blue and hazy cast of winter,
seemed to meet and blend in cold and solemn grandeur. The
morning was frosty but bright, invigorating, and beautiful,
though all nature was girt with the sullen aspect of winter.
The swift-winged cars go thundering on. I sit a stranger in
the midst of strangers, buried in the solitude of my own reflec¬
tions. I had left my home for a long absence and a tedious
journey. The perils of the ocean, the hardships and privations
of desert routes, dangers^from hostile tribes, and exposure in
uncongenial climes, like frightful spectres, were staring me m
the face. I had just exchanged the parting tokejip of affection
with my family and the friends that I loved—my church and
12
EGYPT AND SINAI.
kindred in Christ—^who not only had a strong hold upon my
aifections, but who, in the tokens of regard and kindness shown
me in view of my departure, had added indissoluble ties to the
bonds that united me to them.
My thoughts wandered back to the home and kindred I had
eft, and then dashed forward into the future Brighter hopes
and more pleasant visions are luring me onward. Is it possible
I am so near realizing the cherished anticipations of many
years ? Am I really to visit the land of patriarchs, prophets,
and apostles—to revel in thought amid Jhe scenes of Bible
history ? Am I to see Egypt, and gaze upon the home of the
ancient ijharaohs—walk over the land watered by the sweat
and tears of captive Israel ? Am I to visit the Holy Land—^press
with my feet the soil where Jesus walked, labored, wept, and
died? ,The thought of these things urge me onward. The
past may be saddened by the thought of parting scenes, but it
is perfumed with the remembrance of fraternal and Christian
love. The future may have its doubts and clouds, and anxious
fears may hang them with a sombre drapery, but they are illu¬
mined with the radiant bow of hope.
Another thought oppresses my mind, and gloomy forebodings
•úse up around me. It is
THE CONDITION OF MT OOUNTKT.
Political difiFerences and sectional jealousies have long been
working like leaven in all parts of the land. How the fires ot
contention, long smothered, seem about to break ouj; in one
wild blaze of excitement. The first blow has be'en struck for
the dissolution of this sacred Union, formed in the wisdom and
cemented by the blood of our forefathers.
Jack Frost (he deserves a. more dignified name), with his
cold pencil, and a skill no humaii hand could imitate, had si¬
lently traced upon the car window by my side a beautiful min¬
iature forest—a magical silvery brake of fern, hush, and tree
I was absorbed in admiration of this delicate creation, and
thinking how easily its frail netting of ice-work could be dis¬
solved by a single breath. Again my thoughts reverted to the
former theme. What reports will I hear from my country
REFLECTIONS BY THE WAY.
13
while I am gone ? In what condition will I find it on my re¬
turn ? "Will brother rise against brother, and state be arrayed
against state, and the clangor of arms be heard where the voice
of peace and the hum of industry has so long been our music?
Will the stern tramp of war, and the warm blood of the slain,
desolate and stain those fields that have so long yielded us the
rich abundance of their harvests? Is this boasted Union, after'
all, a mere net-work of fancied strength, frail as the picture
the morning frost has sketched upon that glass, that a single
breath may dissipate ? ISTo, no ! it cannot be. This Union
must remain entire. I love the stars and the stripes. I am
proud of the fiag of my country. I shall find it in every port
I visit. I had rather stand under tlfat, than under the banner
of any other nation. It is an segis of protection ; and the plea,
"I am an American citizen," is equal |o that urged by the
Apostle Paul, near two thousand years ago, " I am a Poman,
and free-born."
But I cannot record all my reflections as the ponderous loco¬
motive went thundering on, with its head of fire and its comet¬
like train of steam and smoke. Bufialo was passed—Albany
left behind—^Boston was in sight—we are there.
How.great the facilities for travel! A ride of thirty-five
hours, at an expense of twenty dollars, and here I am by a
cheerful fire, in a comfortable hotel, eight hundred and sixteen
miles from home.
It is the ninth of January, 1861. I am now standing upon
the deck of the steamer Canada, as she lies at anchor at East
Boston wharf. ' We are just about to launch out .upon the cheer¬
less waters of the great deep, in one of the most tempestuous
months of the year. Almost involuntarily the question again
arises. Why do I go ? Have I suí5.cient reasons for undertak¬
ing such a journey ? Can I expect, in a brief residence among
the ruins and monuments of Antiquity, to make any new dis¬
coveries, or add any thing to the vast fund of knowledge that
has been gathered from these sources ? Can I expect to throw
any new light on scripture history and revelation ? Have not
Champollion, Wilkinson, and their compeers, done all that is
ueeded in Egyp^. ? Have not Layard and his associates suffi-
14
EGYPT AND SINAI.
®iently opened the long-buried ruins of liineveh? Have not
such men as ßobinson, Stevenson, and Stanley, finished the
Work in Sinai and Palestine ? Why, then, do I go ?
When, some years since, Lamartine went out on a similar
expedition, he tells us he went as a philosopher and a poet
Others have gone as men of literature and science. I go simply
as a Christian. As such, I wish to visit the places dear ta
every Christian heart; to stand among the monuments where
the ancient people of Grod toiled ; where Moses wrought his
mighty miracles; to look upon those renowned waters that
stood on heaps to make an open passage for the escape of the
'captive race; to stand upon the summit of that mount that
trembled beneath the awful majesty of a descending G-od. I
want to visit the sacred waters of the Jordan ; to look upon
that mysterious sea ttiat rolls its dark and leaden waves, an
everlasting monument of the displeasure of God against the
doomed cities of the plain ; to visit Jerusalem, Gethsemane,
and Olivet. I want to stand in Bethlehem, where Jesus was
horn—upon Calvary,.where he died; to weep at the sepulchre
where they laid him ; to stand upon the mount from which he
ascended to heaven. In all these places I want to take lessons
of Him who teaches as never man taught ; to mark the foot¬
steps of the Almighty, and trace the records of his wonder-
dealing hand. I go, trusting in Israel's God—^he wiU be my
parotector.
My reflections were broken by the loud, sharp cry of an
officer of the ship—
"all aboabdI"
Ten o'clock was the time set for our departure. I was pleased
to find among the passengers-" Father Kemp " and his company
of»"Old Folks," going out to give a series of concerts in Eu¬
rope. There are about thirty dí them, mostly young people,
notwithstanding their assumed name. "We anticipate the charm
of their songs will add much to the pleasure of the voyage.
An. ocean ship was to me a novel place, and I had many
things to learn. " What is that little flag at the mast-head ? "
said I to a man standing near me. " That they call a Blue
LIFE ON THE OCEAN. l-'»
Pt ter ; it indicates that the ship is to sail immediately." "And-
what is that flag at the stern ? " " "Why, that is the Union Jack,
the pride and boast of every British seaman." Forward, look¬
ing through their respective port-holes, were two dark-looking
Bellona boys, ready primed, to act their part in the farewell
scene. Father Kemp assembled his company of Old Folks on
the promenade deck, and, in company with their friends, sang
" Auld Lang Syne." The last warning was given ; friends has¬
tily exchanged the farewell tokens of aflection. I saw many
struggling to keep the tear-drop back; while others gave way
to emotions they could not suppress. I stood alone. Wo one
knew me, or cared particularly for me ; but I was not an unin¬
terested spectator. I dropped a few tears, from sympathy with
tiie rest; for recent experiences had made me keenly suscep¬
tible to the emotions that swayed them.
OETTINO OUT CT THE HABBOR.
All was in readiness. At five minutes past ten o'clock, the
ponderous machinery was put in motion—the huge paddle-
wheels lazily obeyed the mandate—the war-dogs hOwled a
parting salute, and their deep-mouthed notes rolled back over
city and bay, till old Bunker Hill and Charlestown seemdd
roused from their dreamy sleep of peace, and echoed back the
notes as a familiar sound of olden days. The Blue Peter came
down, and the stars and stripes went up, and we moved slowly
out among the shipping of the harbor. It was a clear, beauti¬
ful morning, and the waters lay like an immense mirror in the
sunlight. We passed the forts, standing like huge sentinels to
guard the passage to the city. At the entrance of the harbor
we dropped our pilot, who was taken on board a schooner an¬
chored there to receive him. Onward we went ; shore and «lity
faded away, and disappeared in the distance. I looked out on
the wide expanse of waters ; the sea and sky were all the world
to us. We were now
VAIBLT AT SEA.
Both flags were taken in, and things put in readiness for
rougher ocean life. For a time we moved on pleasantly. To-
16
EGYPT AND SINAI.
wards evening a head wind sprung up, producing that rocking
motion of the boat that makes sea life so much of a dread, to
those unaccustomed to the water. Dinners, with many, were
disposed of in quicker time than the digestive organs are accus¬
tomed to work. But things this evening did not arrive at any
very serious pass. The worst was yet to come.
Thursday. Our head wind changed to a side wind, and we
had what the sailors call a chopped sea, producing a very un¬
pleasant motioai of the boat. Berths and wash-bowls were in
greater demand than edibles. Only eight made their appearance
at the breakfast table. I felt myself, during the day, approaching
a crisis of some kind, but was determined to procrastinate it as
long as possible. I kept on deck in the open air, and resolutely
frowned down all signs of rebellion. During the afternoon
there were manifest indications that the crisis was at hand, and
must be met. Supplied with a mug of warm saleratus water
and a wash-bowl, I "turned in," as the sailors say, and the
contest commenced. For a time there seemed to be a general
revolt and combination among all the internal states, from the
boots upward, to secede. The contest was a serious one, and
for a long time it seemed doubtful how it would end ; but at
last, from mere exhaustion, hostilities ceased, and quiet was
restored. I now determined to keep a strict watch over the
subdued provinces, and by withholding supplies, and great
caution in the distribution of limited rations, to keep all in
subjection. From what .1 heard going on around me, I was
aware I was not the worst sufferer. "With some, the agony of
the contest was kept up all night long.
Saturday, 12íA. This morning the clouds broke away, the
sun came out ; we had a fair, brisk wind ; all sail was set, and
we moved on, under the combined power pf wind and steam, at
from ten to thirteen miles an hour.
We are now nearing Cape Bace, a dangerous and stormy
part of the coast. Night is closing in upon us. Dark and
stormy-looking clouds are hanging about the horizon, forebod¬
ing no favorable night.
Sunday. Our anticipations of rough weather last night have
been realized. The captain stood well off from Cape Race, to
LIFE ON THE OCEAN.
17
avoid a daugerous reef of. rocks lying about one hundred miles
^rom shore. The storm-king was abroad during the whole
night. "We were only conscious, as we lay in our berths, that
there was a great commotion of the elements. The ship labor¬
ed heavily through the waves, and rolled from side to side, and
occasionally a heavy wave broke over the deck. The captain,
faithful to his trust, was on deck all night, and did not leave to
take any rest till after seven in the morning. At this time the
danger was considered over, as the wmd had pa|rt;ial]y subsided,
and we were about three hours past the Cape. But the conse¬
quences were not over to the passengers. Most of those who
had recovered from their sea-sickness were overtaken with a
relapse, and a number who had not before been affected were
seriously ill.
The rules of the company make it the duty of the captain to
read, or have read, the Church of England service on Sunday
In consequence of the severe labors of the night, this service,
usually performed at half-past ten, was postponed till evening,
when such as were able assembled in the after-cabin for that
purpose.
Wednesday, Ihth. Monday and Tuesday we had a constant
succession of foul weather—tempestuous winds and a boisterous
sea. The concert the Old Folks were to give on Tuesday eve¬
ning was deferred on account of the motion of the ship', and
the sickness of most of the company. Have had a head Wind
all day, and have depended on the power of steam alone. The
wind has been increasing during the afternoon. I observe to¬
night the sky has an angry appearance. The sailors are all
busily at work, securing every sail, and making all ready for a
storm.
A OALE AT SEA.
Thursday. Our officers were not disappointed in their last
evening's expectations of a gale. Before morning we had it in
earnest. We novices in sea life thought we had a severe storm
on Saturday night off Cape Race, but the sailors only laughed
at us when we spoke of it. In our berths below we only knew
that the wind was blowing a gale, that our boat was pitcliing
2
XÖ EGYPT AND SINAI.
and tossing about, and we could hear the waves breaking in
torrents clear over the top of the cabin above us.
About four o'clock in the morning, a heavy sea struck the
larboard side of our ship. The concussion seemed like striking
against a rock. Some were thrown clear out of their berths;
crockery smashed and rattled; boxes and trunks were dashed
with violence across the state-rooms ; women screamed, and
men jumped from their beds in afíright.
For a few moments the ship stood perfectly still, as if stilf-
ened like a bulloek struck in the head with an ax ; then the
heavy timbers screaked and quivered, and in a few moments
more she was dashing headlong onward through the mountain
waves. I had an upper berth, and from that time till morn¬
ing I found it difficult to keep my position. I braced myself
with my knees, and held on with my hands ; rolled backward
and forward, and thus waited for the morning light. I will
say, however, that during all this I felt no fear ; not that I had
stronger jierves than the rest, but I knew wu were now in mid
ocean, near a thousand miles from land, that we had plenty r1
sea room, and that our ship was so strongly built, she had n%
•■thing to fear from wind or wave.
THE OCEAN IN A BTOEM.
As soon as the morning light appeared, I managed to dress
eayseif, though with extreme difficulty, both from dizziness and
the motion of the boat. I was determined to get on deck, enjoy
the fresh air, and see how old ocean looked, lashed into tempest.
I at last succeeded in reaching the promenade deck, and took
shelter under the lee side of the great smoke-stack, which not
only,protected me from the spray, but also kept me warm ; for
it threw off heat like a monster stove. The scene to me was a
■novel one ; and, notwithstanding my sickness and exposure, I
stood for more than two hours enjoying the strange grandeur
and mkjesty of the scene. Our great ship was pitching up and
down, tossed like a feather in the wind. We rode on huge
mountain billows of dark leaden color, capped with^molten
glass, and tipped with silvery caps of foam. Once or twice the
sun broke through the angry clouds, and touched them with
LIFE ON THE OCEAN.
19
hia golden light, kindling the pearly drops into myriads of
sparkling diamonds, and throwing over all the prismatic beauty
of the rainbow. I thought I had seen water in its greatest
majesty and glory, and in its most impressive exhibitions, at
Niagara ; but here was a vastness—a grandeur—an exhibition
of sublimity and power, that eclipsed all I had ever seen before.
My soul was deeply impressed with the omnipotence and in
finity of that God who scooped out this mighty abyss, and filled
it with these powerful waters. He hath set them their bounds,
and says to them, i^their wildest commotion, " Thus far, and
here shall thy proud waves he stayed. ' I heard in the roar of
these elements the voice of the Lord God Omnipotent, and re¬
joiced that, terrible as he was, I could call him Father.
The incidents of an ocean voyage have been so often penned,
we need not detain the reader by any lengthy narration of
them. Through wind and storm, sunshine and calm, with won¬
drous power the ponderous machinery of our ship drove us
onward. Again we came in sight of land. It was % pleasant
and cheerful sight. Cape Clear was passed. Cork harbor was
gained. Monday, January 21st, we were steaming along the
Irish Channel, enjoying a calm sea and a bright sunshine. Af
six p. M., after an unusually stormy passage, we dropped an¬
chor in the Mersey, oposite Liverpool, the great shipping
emporium of the world. The landing and getting through tfc.e
custom-house will form a portion of the next chapter.
20
EGYPT AND SINAI.
CHAPTER II.
Landing at Liverpool—Ride to London-
The close of the last chapter found us anchored in the Mer¬
sey, after a run from Boston to Liverpool of a little more than
three thousand miles, in twelve days and eight hours.
GETTING THROUGH THE CUSTOM-HOUSE
W.as not as formidable a task as I had supposed. The mails
were first taken on shore. After an impatient waiting of near¬
ly an hour, the tardy custom-house ofiB^cer made his appearance,
accompanied by a man with a plate of paste and a handful of
labels. The search was far less rigid than I had anticipated.
It came my turn. "Your name, sir ? " This was hastily writ¬
ten in a book he carried in his hand. " How many paekages
sir ? " " Two, sir." I had two traveling bags. " Got any to¬
bacco or ardent spirits?" "Ho, sir; don't deal in such com¬
modities. You can see what I haví, sir." Taking out my
keys, I was about to open my bags. "Without waiting for this,
he took hold of each, gave it a nervous pressure between his
nands ; and, as if compreheijding, by intuition, the character
of the contents—" All right, sir ; let them pass." The paste-
man clapped a label on them, by virtue of which they went
through the gangway, and I followed after.
The search was most rigid after tobacco, ardent spirits, and
—if the traveler had books—^for American reprints of English
works. The former pay heavy duties ; and the latter is con
sidered a kind of literary piracy, that meets with no favor. If
such books are found, they are committed to the flames without
the least compunction on the part of the officers, or of compas¬
sion to the owner.
A few minutes more, aud^I was enjoying the comforts of an
excellept hotel, named Victoria, in honor, I suppose, of her
A RIDE IN ENGLAND.
21
tloyal Ilighuess. I found the accommodations excellent, at an
expense of about eight shillings sterling (or two doUars) per day.
Liverpool is noted, principally, for its shipping accommoda¬
tions and fine docks. Of these, it has now seven miles in
length, all walled in, and protected by massive gates, like the
locks of a canal. This renders the shipping very secure. The
city is a place of great business, but it, has few attractions for
the visitor. The only building of special note is St. George's
flail. It is said to be the finest public hall in the kingdom.
LIVERPOOL TO LONDON.
January 2hth. I left the depot'at Liverpool at nine o'clock
A. M.,-on the Great ÏTorthwestern Railway, for London. I am
now taking my first views of England and English scenery.
To an American, the absence of timber, and the high state of
cultivation bestowed upon the soil, are striking features of the
landscape. The houses all look old. They lack the architec¬
tural lightness and beauty, and the neatness of appearance,
that characterize the farm-houses of our own land.. All the
main roads are macadamized. Land is more valuable than
with us, and far less is appropriated to highways. Many of
them are very narrow. All railroad crossings go either over
or under, thus securing Safety to passing trains. Every thing
bears the stamp of age. Evergreens are seen in abundance;
while the ivy, finding a congenial home among the moidering
ruins of age, is seen climbing every where—shrouding, with ts
beautiful festoons of living green, the decay and ruin ol dea+h.
Numerous villages dot the country. Multitudes of great black
smoke-stacks, amid slender steeples and heavy church-towers,
side by side, rise in majesty towards the heavens. Thus the
indications of religion and industry are generally found in close
proximity. With the smoke of the furnace goes up the in
cense of worship ; with the hum of machinery is mingled the
anthem of praise. England looks like a finished country. Has
it reached the zenith of its power and prosperity ? How long
will it retain its present high position ?
22
EGYPT AND SINAI.
A ride of one hundred and seventy-five miles in nine hoúTfl,
at an expense of seven dollars, and I was
in london.
London ! the great metropolis of England and the mart of
the world. I was set down at Euston station, and a cabman
immediately transferred me to a commercial hotel, near the
post-office, in the very heart of this great Babel—a perfect laby¬
rinth of streets and squares, warehouses and stores, churches
and palaces—where near three millions of people, of all classes,
grades, and conditions, find a home; a city that covers sev
enty-eight thousand acres of ground—where, every yeâr, they
consume fourteen million bushels of wheat, eat up two hun¬
dred and fifty thousand bullocks, two million sheep, thirty
thousand calves,» forty thousand pigs, and fish, and game,
and vegetables in proportion ; a city where, besides all other
drinks, fifty million gallons of porter and two million galloms
of ardent spirits are annually poured out in libations to un¬
natural and voracious appetites—where it takes twenty-five
thousand tailors to make their clothes, thirty thousand shoe¬
makers to take care of their feet, and forty thousand milliners
and dress-makers to attend to their habits—^where an army of
more than twenty thousand servants are daily employed, and
the smoke of their coal-fires darkens the country for more than
thirty miles around.
The immediate design of coming to London now, was to
make the necessary
arrangements for my journey.
Before leaving home, I had, of course, procured from Wash¬
ington a passport for foreign travel. This ran as follows :
United States or America : To all to whom these presents shall
come—Oreeting : I, the undersigned, Secretary of the United States
of America, hereby request all whom it may concern, to permit safely
and freely to pass the Rev. D. A. Randall, a citizen of the United States;
and in case of need, to give him all lawful aid and protection. [Then
follows a^escription of the bearer's peraon.]
Given under my hand and thé impression of the seal of the Depart¬
ment of State at the city of Washington, the 14th day of December,
A. D 1860, in the 85th year of the Independence of the United States.
PASSPORT AND FINANCES.
23
•This »V as duly sealed with the American Arms, and signed
IjjîWIS CASP.
Ill going into England, no passport is needed ; but other Eu¬
ropean countries cannot be entered without one. Between
Prance and England the passport system has recently been
abolished for citizens of the two countries, but not for others.
I decided to take the route to Paris, Marseilles, and thence to
Alexandria, in preference to a long sea voyage from Southamp¬
ton, through the straits of Gibraltar ; the former being quicker
and easier. Having decided to enter France, the first thing
was to have my passport properly recognized—or, as it is called,
vised ; that is, a certificate upon it, that it has been examined
by the proper authorities, and that the person who bears it is
perntitted to proceed on his journey. The first was a visit to
the American consul, who gave it his official recognition and
seal. Services gratuitous. This prepared the way for a visit
to the French consul, whose indorsement made it good for
France. Fee one dollar. Your passport must be counter¬
signed in the country you are about to leave by a consul or
embassador from the country to which you are going. The
next thing was my
FINANCIAL ARRANGEMENTS.
If money in Solomon's time answered all things, much more
will it vidth the modern traveler. He can do nothing without
it. It is the Aladdin's lamp to bring what he wishes, the tails-
man to open hearts, and unlock doors. Every step of his way
must be paid, and every hand lifted for him must be crossed
with silver.
Most of the large banking houses of London have agents in
the principal cities of our States, through whose agency funds
can be transferred to London without risk or loss, and some¬
times with gain, if exchange happens to be, as is often the case,
in our favor. A certificate of deposit from Baring Brothers'
agent in Boston gave me ready admission to their extensive
business house in London. From them I received a " Letter
of Credit," addressed to the various banking houses in the
cities through which I expected to go. This letter certified
24
EGYPT AND SINAI.
that I had deposited so much money with them, and that my
draft would be honored to any amount not exceeding that sum.
On this letter I could draw money in any city I visited. This
is a great convenience to the traveler, as it entirely obviates
the necessity and risk of taking a large sum of money with
him. In one city he can draw just what he needs unt'd he
gets to the next, and can draw in the currency of the country
in which he happens to be. Similar arrangements can also bo
made with American banking houses. Another method of
transmitting funds has recently been devised, of great conveni¬
ence to the traveler. What is called circular notes of five or
ten pounds sterling are issued: by several of the banking houses
of London. These notes form a very safe and convenient kind
of letter of credit. Arrangements for cashing them are made
in all the countries of the East, so very simple and ef&cient as
almost entirely to exclude the possibility of fraud ; and if they
are lost or stolen, they are useless to the person finding them,
and the owner can have them replaced by others.
Should a person be disposed to carry any amount of specie
with him, he should take the gold sovereigns of England or the
Napoleons of France. In Egypt the sovereigns answer as welL
In Syria, Turkey, Greece and Italy the French Napoleon is
better known and preferred. These arrangements made, we
are ready to proceed immediately on our journey. We have
some other general directions to give travelers, but will defer
them till further experience has increased our stock of knowl¬
edge. We cannot leave here till Monday next, and we may
improve the time in
A WALK. ABOUT THE CITY
I have not the time or space~to give the reader even a
glimpse of the many wonderful things that cail be seen in one
brief walk in this great metropolis. I should like to take him
to the top of some of the tall monuments that overlook the
city—to the palaces and the museums; to wâlk with him
among the massive fortifications of Old London Tower
through the rooms where nobles, princes, kings and queens
have been incarcerated; to stand with him on Tower Hill,
A SUNDAY IN LONDON.
25
where the scaffold and the executioner's block tell their dari;
cales of treachery and blood. I should like to go with him to
Westminster Abbey—a wonderful pile—a venerable old church,
and the great sepulchral home of England's honored dead. It
is worth a journey across the Atlantic to take a stroll through
its cold„ damp aisles and chapels; to stand amid its costly
monuments and rnoldering dust, where death for many long
centuries has been gathering his trophies, and his dark gar¬
lands have been interwoven with the adornments of human
skih and genius. We have in a very brief space of time treas¬
ured many an interesting fact and story for our readers, but
we must defer their recital until our return, for we hope to see
these things again. But we have a Sunday to spend in London
before we can leave, and we will go and hear some of the cele¬
brated preachers of the place. Among them are several whose
fame has reach our own side of the water. At 11 o'clock this
morning
THE REV. 0. H. SPUEGEON
Preaches in Exeter Ball. We will go and hear him.
Though this is the most capacious room in the city, capable of
accommodating several thoi"iand people, we must be early or
we shall not get a seat. See +be crowd come pouring into the
great reservoir. Every seat, from pulpit to the remotest corner,
from lower floor to highest gallery, is fllled, and many are com¬
pelled to remain standing in the aisles.
The secret of this preacher's popularity is a problem upon
which many have speculated and a great variety of opinions
have been advanced. He was invited to London in 1854, and
was then only twenty years old. He immediately attracted
public attention, and crowds thronged to hear him—the largest
audience rooms failed to accommodate the multitudes. When
he preached in the Crystal Palace more than twenty thousand
persons were in attendance.
He arises to commence the service. The attention of the
vast audience is at once arrested, and a profound silence pre¬
vails. He is a man of medium hight, thick set, and has a
very short neck. His face is full, round and smooth, and when
in repose his lips so drawn apart as to show the two upper
76
EGYPT AND SINAI.
front teeth, which have an ivory whiteness. He carries a
pleasant countenance, and his complexion is very fair anc
ruddy, reminding me of the description given of the youthful
David when Samuel was sent to anoint him king. One promi¬
nent element of his power is in his voice; orotund, clear and
full, it possesses great volume, and is* mellow and sympathetic.
Very few preachers have a voice of such power and distinct¬
ness. Yet gifted as he is in this particulp by nature,^art might
do for him much more. In modulation, depth, and especially
in pathos, it might be made much more effective. The enunci¬
ation «and number of the first hymn, and the reading of thp
first lines, were distinctly heard to the remotest extremity of
the great hall. He reads well—even his hymns are read with
effect, which can be said of very few preachers. His hymn
read through, he returned, as is his uniform practice, and re¬
read a verse at a time, directing the singing—a chorister stand¬
ing at his side—now soft, now slow, now with force and ener¬
gy; and when a whole vast congregation joined, it was sin^ng
such as we seldom hear. But his voice alone would not give
him popularity. I have known preachers who were far his su-
I eriors in this, who failed to attract attention.
His sermon was not à great one. In systematic arrangement,
brilliancy and concentration of thought, and power of illustra¬
tion, I have heard many better ones in our own land. But
there is something about him that attracts, pleases and fixes
the attention. His language is plain idiomatic Saxon. His
elocution of the most easy and natural kind, like the converse
of friend with friend. He stands among his audience as though
he was one of them. As you look at him you instinctively feel
that you are in the presence of one who feels for you, can sym¬
pathize with you, and wants to do you good. You feel a confi¬
dence in his power, aniTare willing to be instructed and led by
him. Other elements of his popularity are found in his vivaci¬
ty of thoughr, his dramatic mode of presenting his subjects, the
variety he manages to introduce into almost every sermon, and
rn the fact that his messages come fresh and earnest from a
warm and feeling heart.
Though I say his sermon was not a great one, still, I can s*.y
A SUNDAY IN PARIS.
27
Î was not disappointed. But whatever any individual opinion
of him may be, it will not do to deny him the credit of being a
great, a popular, and a useful man. "We must measure men,
not so much by what they seem to be, or by any detached, or
single effort, but by the aggregate, and the results of their
labors. You can no more measure a structure by a few of its
stones, than you can measure a man by a few of his deeds.
The man who, commencing in mere boyhood, and yet but a
young man, preaching several years in succession in the same
place, and in the very metropolis of learning and civilization,
can continue to attract crowds to hear him ; whose extempore
sermons, as they fall from his lips, are fit for publication, and
volume after volume, as they come from the press, can be sold
by thousands, and are read with eagerness and profit on both
continents ; to whom not only the common people but the lof¬
tiest minds listen gladly, and hang with rapture on his glowing
words; whose labors have been blessed to the conversion of
thousands; whose resources as a preacher seem never to be ex¬
hausted or diminished ; who from a small nucleus has raised
up around him a church of more than two thousand metnbers,
by whose efforts funds have been raised, and a new house of
woiship nearly completed at an exp'ense'of $150,000; and
whose influence is felt in all protestant Christendom, must be
a gifted and wonderful man, even though critics, in the analysis
to which they subject him, may be puzzled to discover the con¬
stituent elements of which that greatness is composed. In the
evening after hearing Mr. Spurgeon I had the privilege of
hearing the celebrated
DR. OUMMINGS.
His books have been extensively read in America, and he is
reckoned among the most popular preachers of the land. The
house which would seat ten or twelve hundred was about two-
g
thirds filled. Strangers stood in the aisles or about the doors,
until after the singing of the first hymn, to give pew-holders
and regular attendants an opportunity to occupy their seats.
Then they were at liberty to take any unoccupied seats, as it
was presumed the owners would not be present. The singing,
28
EGYPT AND SINAI.
as in most of the dissenting chapels, was congregational, the
chorister occupying a place in front of the speaker's desk.
The preacher is a tall, heavy man, rather coarse features, a
high forehead and well balanced head, with a mild and pleas¬
ant countenance, beaming with kindness and benevolence. In
several respects he is the antipodes of Spurgeon, while both
have many excellent quahties. There is nothing stirring or
enthusiastic in his manner—he is calm, dignified and attrac¬
tive. To a mind gifted by nature he has united a refined taste,
and the adornments of a finished education. Rich in his con¬
ceptions and lucid in his illustrations—language elegant and
copious—voice low, soft and musical as the tones of a flute, he
charms and instructs his audience, and holds'them often in
breathless silence. I do not look upon him as one of the
greatest, but as one of the most accomplished and useful
preachers of the age. Seldom have I spent an hour of greater
interest than I passed in his church, and I shall long re aeu>be<
;t with pleasure.
REV. DR. CU.\ndINOS.
A railroad ride.
29
CHAPTER III.
London to Paris—Paris to Marseilles.
"We have seen but little of the great city, London, but we
j oust hasten our departure—I hope we shall see more of it on
OUI return ; so now away to Paris, the metropolis of gayety,
beauty and fashion.
There are several different routes from London to Paris.
The quickest is by the Southeastern Railway to Folkstone,
Dover and Calais. On this route the journey is accomplished
in a little over ten hours, ai an expense of about ten dollars.
TLe best route for economists, both of time and money, is
from London to Hew Haven by rail, thence across the channel,
about seventy miles, by steamer to Dieppe, thence by -rail to
Paris—^first class fare about seven dollars and a half, second
five dollars.
We left London Bridge Station at 20 minutes past 10 o'clock
in the evening, and at 9 o'clock the next morning were in
DIEPPE, FRANCE.
Here we had to pass the custom-house. Our baggage was
examined, and our passport received the official signature of
the police, to be produced in any emergency as evidence that
we were lawfully in the country. We had a stroll of a couple
of hours about the town before leaving for Paris. The city is
an antique looking place, of about sixteen thousand inhabitants.
It has a fine harbor, comm9,nded by a citadel, and a formidable
and picturesque old castle. The only thing I saw worthy of
special note was a venerable old stone church of fine architec¬
ture, massive, moss-grown walls, and ivy-decked towers. At
11 o'clock we were again on our way. A railroad ride of one
hundred and twenty-five miles, and our train stopped in a spa-
30
EGYPT AN D SINAI.
cious and magnificent depot, the door of our car was throwL
open, and the condn.ctor called out
PABIB.
Ijcould not pride myself upon any superior knowledge of
French, and now that I was among Frenchmen, I felt a strong
reluctance at attempting to speak in tongues. I stood, travel¬
ing-bag in hand, a dozen natives around me. " Any one here
that can speak English ? " said I. "Vat you vants, zur ? " said an
attractive little Frenchman. "Vants ze a hack, zur?" "Yes,
sir." He politely accompanied me to a stand, asked my desti¬
nation, exchanged a few words with the driver, saw me in,
bowed politely, and I tossed him a "thank 'e sir" in return.
On went the driver, I know not how far, through street after
street, among long rows of buildings, and by many a splendid
mansion, until at last he reigned in his steed, threw open the
door and announced
OBAND HOTEL BE LOUVBE.
Paris boasts of its splendid hotel accommodations, and of
these the Louvre ranks among the first. It is said to be the
largest and most splendid hotel on »the continent. This and
1. ther hotels of Paris are a kind of a mixture of the American
^and English. You pay a fixed price for your room. This is
proportioned to the distance up—on the second floor, say three
and a half francs, or about seventy cents a day, and an addi¬
tional frank a day for servant's attendance. Thè tables have
fixed rates for every thing you call for—coffee, and bread and
butter, thirty cents ; two boiled eggs, ten cents ; beefsteak, for¬
ty cents ; and so on. There is a public table for dinner at 6
o'clock, to which all that choose may come at a cost of seven
francs for each person. If you choose to take your meals at
some other house you can do so, and in that case you pay only
for yoult room.
The uninitiated traveler calculates the expense of his room,
and adds his table fare, and concludes bis expenses are quito
moderate. "Wait a little till your bill is presented. You go lo
your room—no gas, no candles. You ring for a servant.
HOTEL CHARGES.
31
John, bring rae a light." He comes in with two fine sperm
candles. "John, I see there is no soap here,; bring in a cake."
You sit down, your room feels damp and chilly. Another ring
of the bell: "John, light a little fire for me, it seems cold here."
The time of settlement comes ; you call for your bill : Room
and service, four and a half francs—all right. Restaurant-
all so. Two sperm candles, two francs. " Why, you don't charge
for candles?" "Certainly, candles are always extra." One
cake of soap, half a franc. "What, charge for soap?" " Yes,
monsieur; soap is extra." One basket of wood, two francs.
" What, wood extra, too ?" * " Certainly, always, sir."
Thus the American who has been accustomed at a home
hotel to pay so much per diem, and have every comfort and
luxury included, is surprised to find his bill largely increased
by a long string of extras, though he may not have burned an
inch of the candles, or washed the gloss from his cake of soap.
And what is more vexatious, the customs change with almost
every city, and you are constantly surprised and vexed at the
ingenuity of your host in bringing in such an endless variety
of extras. At a hotel in Marseilles where I was eating at the
public table, not wishing to drink the wines furnished with the
dinner, I called for a cup of coflfee, and was surprised to find in
my bill, "Dinner, eighty cents; coflfee extra, twenty-five cents; "
and when eating in Athens, and calling for a cup of tea, the
bill involved an extra charge for the tea, another for the milk,
and another for the sugar, and I wonder they had not made an
extra charge for the water. But the traveler soon learns how
to manage these things. In traveling on the continefit, carry
your candles and soap with you. But enough of hotel arrange¬
ments. Let us take a look at this
BBAUTIFUIi CITY — PARIS.
Baris is all of France, and is justly the pride of the nation
It is fifteen English miles in circumference, and contains about
^ne million two hundred thousand inhabitants. It is, indeed,
a city of magnificent buildings, splendid palaces, large and
costly churches, and beautiful parks and ornamental fountains.
No other city of the continent can compare with it m the ex
82 EGYPT AND STNAÍ.
tent, richness and beauty of its adornments. It is not excelled,
probably not equaled, by any other city in the world.
But I am not here to spend time among the attractions of
the place now; I have only two or three days to make a hasty
visit to some of them, and complete arrangements for the con¬
tinuance of my journey. I expect to return here on my way
home, and then, if the limits of our book will permit, I will
furnish the reader with a notice of some of the prominent and
attractive localities of the place.
A SUNDAY IN PARIS.
I have a Sunday to spend in Paris. "Where shall I attend
church? Now I begin to realize that I am in a Catholic coun¬
try. All around me are massive churches, with tolling bells,
and open doors inviting to worship, but my heart is not in
sympathy with them. Costly pictures, sculptured statues,
burning tapers and golden crucifixes, however much they may
inspire devotion in those educated by them, for me had no at¬
tractions. Pturned from them all to the little American chapel
in Bue de Berry, built in part by contributions from my native
land. Here I found a neat Gothic structure, capable of accom¬
modating three to four hundred persons. About two hundred
American and English were in attendance. The Church of
England service was being read. With a devout heart, and a
cheerful voice, I joined with the worshiping assembly. This
was immediately followed by a non-liturgical service, with
preaching by a stranger, whom, on stopping to speak with
aftei* service, I found to be Bev. Dr. McClintock, of the Meth¬
odist Church, New York City. Beturning from church, our
way lies through
THE CHAMPS ELYSEES, OR ELYSIAN FIELDS.
It is certainly appropriately named. It is a beautiful and
extensive park, a continuation of the garden of the Tuileries,
and faeing that splendid palace. On one side of it ^ow the
waters of the Seine. Nature has scattered over it her beauties
with a lavish hand, and art has done still more to enrich and
adorn the place. Here are beautiful groves, shady walks, a pro-
A ytAUriPUL PARK.
33
fhsion of statuary, guabing fountains, songs of birds and odora
of beautiful flowers. It was a strange sensation tbat came
over me, I cannot describe my emotions, or find words to ex¬
press the reflections that crowded upon me, as I stood upon
the now lovliest spot in all Paris,
THE PLACE DE LA CONOOBDE,
An open space between the garden of the Tuileries and
these Elysian Fields, and was told that here had been enacted
some of the bloodiest tragedies that have characterized the
hiatory of this fickle and restless people. Just where I now
stand, just where these costly and elegant |buntains, sur¬
rounded by elaborate and gigantic pieces of statuary, are
making music by the gush of their dashing waters, was erected
the guillotine of the bloody revolution. Here the head of
Robespierre was severed from his body ; here the blood of no¬
bles, kings, and emperors has reddened the earth. Flow on,
ye gushing waters. Bathe with thy pure and limpid streams
this memorable spot. Alas ! thou canst never wa'sh away the
crimson stains.
Monday, Feb. 4ih. Interesting as it would be to take you to
the churches, palaces, gardens, museums and picture galleries
of Paris, we cannot linger here. "We must hasten on to other
lands, where we can visit, not the magnificence and splendó'r of
the present and the living, but the ruins and monuments of the
past and departed.
My arrangements are now all completed. An English
steamer leaves Marseilles on "Wednesday morning for Alexan¬
dria, and I must be there. I had to get the vise of the Ameri¬
can consul to my passport, also a vise of a French consul for
Egypt and Syria, and a" clearance from the chief of police.
These official favors cost one dollar and seventy-five cents. At
11 o-'clock I was at the depot of the Paris and Lyons road,
ready for a ride of five hundred and forty miles to Marseilles,
nearly due south. For this ride a first class ticket costs twenty
dollars; second class, fifteen dollars; ana if you choose to nde
Btill cheaper, third class about ten dollars.
As we whirled onward I was constantly on the alert to catch
3
34
JÍÜYPT AlíD SINAI.
every passing view of this, to me, new arid strange country.
On leaving Paris a dense fog hung over the land, and a cold
night* had clothed trees and shrubbery with beautiful decora¬
tions of a frosty whiteness. Soon the fog cleared away, and
the cheerful sun unrobed the landscape of its silver drapery.
Our course lay for some distance along the "alley of the Seine.
The face of the country was beautiful, but the soil was much
more shallow and unproductive than I had expected to find it.
Wherever the surface of the hills was broken, they presented the
same white, chalky appearance as is seen at Dieppe and Dover.
In this
RIDE THROUGH FRANCE,
We were rapidly leaving winter behind. The fields gradu¬
ally assumed a green and spring-like aspect. Soon we came
upon the vineyard plantations. Acres and acres of vines
clothed the hillsides in every direction. The country is highly
cultivated. Occasionally a village in the valley by some run¬
ning stream, or upon the hillside, gave life and charm to the
landscape. At one time we passed through a large tract, cov¬
ered with a stunted growth of timber, looking much like some
of our dwarf oak openings. One thing that arrests the atten¬
tion of an American, is the small amount of land appropriated
to ßÖhlic roads, and the small number of carriages or wheeled
vehicles seen. These areduxuries the farming population can¬
not afibrd. Their land is tilled in the most economical man¬
ner, and every possible retrenchment is made. But little tim¬
ber is seen, and of that little the most is made. If a tree is cut
down, every chip and piece of bark is saved. Even the mi¬
nutest twigs are gathered up by the children, tied in little pack¬
ages about the size of one's wrist, and sold in the cities foi
lighting fires. This close economy in fuel, soil and produce, to
one coming from a land where we annually waste enough to
support an empire, seems like unnecessary carefulness ; but it is
one of the necessities of a thickly populated country. France,
like England, looks old—the gray hairs of age are upon it. A
ride of three hundred and sixteen miles brought us to the city
of Lyons, the chief manufacturing city of France, with a pop-
A NIGHT RIDE.
35
Illation of about two hundred and seventy-five thousand, at the
junction of the two great rivers, the Saone and the Rhone.
Darkness gathered over the scene and hid the view of hill
and valley and ever varying landscape, and shut us up to the
solitude of our own refiections. Just as morning opened the
eastern g^es, and poured her floods of light upon the world,
our eye caugUt a distant view of
MARSEILLES,
And—we were there. This k; the ancient Massilla, and is
now a city of one hundred and eighty-five thousand inhabi¬
tants. Situated on the Gulf of Lyons, it is the chief French port
of the Mediterranean, and has a safe and spacious harbor, capa¬
ble of accommodating nearly two thousand vessels. The old
town is hoary with age, dating as far back as six hundred years
before Christ. The streets are narrow and crooked, running
up and down steep side hills. The new town is better laid out
and better built—^fine streets, buildings, fountains and squares.
A beautiful hill adjoining the town is finely ornamented as a
park, and commands an extensive view of the harbor and sur¬
rounding country.
I found here good accommodations at the " Grand Hotel Des
Empereurs," with plenty of extra charges, making a little over
three dollars a day. My first business was to secure my passage
on one of the steamers of the Peninsular and Oriental Company
for Alexandria. This costs one hundred dollars. My passport
having been vised for Egypt and Syria, I had only to go to the
chief of police, report myself as wishing to leave the country,
and pay him two francs for his official permit stamped upon
my passport. Y ery comfortable accommodations can be secured
on these boats, in second cabin for fifty dollars. The Frçnch
steamers carry for less than the English. A company of three
person's together on the French steamers can get a reduction of
twenty ])or cent, from regular rates; and, if they choose to take
second cabin passage, which I afterward tested, and found as
good as one could desire, it very much reduces the expense of
the passage. My arrangements are now all completed for my
journey to Egypt.
86
egypt aitd sinal.
CHAPTER IV.
Mbditerkanean Voyage—Island of Malta—^Various Inci¬
dents—Arrival at Alexandria.
"Wednesday morning, February 26th, 1861, at 9 o'clock a. m.,
the steamer Valetta left the port of Marseilles, hound to Alex¬
andria. She was one of the boats of the Peninsular and Ori¬
ental Company, known all through this region as the P. & 0.
Company. This is a wealthy English company, formed for the
purpose of transporting passengers and merchandise to the In¬
dies, China and Australia, by the way of Egypt, Suez and the
Red Sea. They have in constant employ upwards of fifty fine
steamers, carrying an aggregate of near seventy-five thousand
tons. They have a regular line from Southampton, England,
a boat leaving every week, and another fronj Marseilles,
France, leaving each week. From Southampton their vessels
reach Gibraltar, eleven hundred and fifty-one miles, in about
five "days ; here they stop from wx to twelve hours, and pro-
cefeding reach Malta, nine hundred and eighty-one miles
further, in about nine days. The ordinary stay at this island
is about six hours, and the whole voyage to Alexandrui^=ts com¬
pleted in about thirteen days from Southampton, making a dis¬
tance in all of twenty-nine hundred and fifty-one miles. Pas¬
sengers embarking at Marseilles reach Malta, six hundred and
fifty miles, in about two and a half days, and Alexandria in
about four more, making a run from Marseilles to Alexandria
of fourteen hundred and sixty-nine miles.
This company's lines of communication extend to Suez,
Aiden, Ceylon, Calcutta, Madras, Bombay, Mauritius, Hong-
Kong, Shanghai, and many other pfirts of the eastern world.
The rates of passage from Southampton to Alexandria is, for
first cabin, one hundred and fifty dollars; second cabin, about
ninety-five dollars. Unless one wishes to see the straits and
rock of Gibraltar and other places on the ocean route, it is econ-
MEDITEERANBAN JTOTAGE.
37
nmy of time, money and comfort to go from London or South¬
ampton by railroad to Paris, thence to Marseilles. The letter
mail from London to the East goes by this route. There are
eight or teiL opportunities every month to go from Marseilles
to Malta and Alexandria.
As we passed out of the harbor the sky was clear and pleas¬
ant ; the air balmy as summer. Indeed, the glory and beauty
of spring were upon all the landscape. The Gulf of Lyons,
over which we had first to pass, is noted for its turbulent winds,
and we did not wholly escape. Thursday morning, upon going
on deck, I found we were just passing the Straits of Bonifacio—
Sardinia upon the right, Corsica upon the left.
Friday^ Feb. %th. This morning we had a high wind and
heavy sea, producing much sea-sickness among the passengers.
About 9 o'clock we were in sight of Sicily. We strained our
eyes as we passed, in the direction of ./Etna, anxious to catch
even a distant view of his majestic form. But though he lifts
his smoky summit ten thousand feet above the sea, the clouds
that hung over the island, wrapped him in their ample folds
and hid him from our view.
A run of six hundred and fifty miles brought us to Malta,
and we entered the harbor of Valetta, after which our steamer
fv^as named, about 5 o'clock in the morning. Breakfast over,
ire had a couple of hours to spend on shore.
THE ISLAND OF MALTA,
So far as it can be seen from the harbor, is a rocky, barren
looking place; but the cultivated strips here and there were so
green and flourishing, and in such contrast with the desolate
winter of the northern climes I had left behind me, they pre¬
sented a most charming and beautiful appearance. The length
of the island is about sixteen miles, the breadth about nine.
Small as it is, its location and the important events that have
transpired here, have invested it with more interest than often
attaches to such a limited extent of territory.
The Maltese are of African origin. They have a swarthy
skin, nose somewhat flattened, and frizzly hair. They are said
to be a frugal and industrious people, and good seamen, but
88
EGYPT AND SINAI.
generally poor, ignorant and superstitious. The base of then
language is Arabic, but both the race and their language bavf
become much intermixed with foreign elements.
VALETTA
Is one of the best harbors in the Mediterranean, and strongly
fortified. It is shut in by land on every side, and is capable of
accommodating about five hundred vessels. The town is built
of stone, and the bouses rise tier above tier along the steep bill-
side that overlooks the harbor. The streets are steep and nar¬
row, many of them stone stairways cut in the solid rock, and
not unfrequently arched overhead. I was surprised to find the
city so much of an English town. The English garrison here
has wrought a great change in the manners and language of
the people. A large share of the inhabitants can talk English,
English names are on the shop-boards, English faces are seen
in the stores, English soldiers promenade the streets. The oc¬
cupation of this island by the British and the strong fortifica¬
tions they have erected here, is only another evidence of their
sagacity and foresight, for this island is the key of the Medi¬
terranean.
THE HISTORT OE THE PLACE.
Its importance has made it a scene of contention for thous¬
ands of years. Many different nations have looked upon it
with covetous eyes, and many a bloody battle has been fought
for its possession. In 1580 it was occupied by the Xmghts of
St. John, the Turks having expelled them from Rhodes. Its
chief city, Valetta, was founded by the Grand Master of these
Knights. It soon became noted for its great strength, and the
richness and magnificence of its buildings. One of the most
venerable and interesting piles of the place is
THE OLD CHURCH OP ST. JOHN.
It has a.-very ancient look, and was built in honor of the
patron saint of the Knights. It is two hundred and forty feet
long and sixty wide. The sides are broken into various chap¬
els, and when I entered it devout worshipers were kneeling
CURIOUS CUSTOMS.
89
here and there, bowing and crossing themselves, while gloomy
looking monks and nuns, with ghost-like apparel and silent
tread, wcre wandering about its immense corridors.
The most curious part this church is the floor. Beneath
it many of the old Knights are entombed, and above them the
armorial bearings of all the Grand Masters of the order are in¬
laid in mosaics of various and beautifully colored marbles. In
the chapel of the Madonna was formerly erected a massive and
curious silver railing. Gladly would the French in their con¬
quest have confiscated this rich treasure, but the wily monks
covered it with a heavy coat of paint, and soldier after soldier
passed it, and perhaps leaned upon it, without ever suspecting
what a treasure was thus escaping their rapacity. The hand
of time has faded and crumbled the fine fresco paintings of the
dome of this venerable structure, but the elaborate mosaic work
of the floor is still the wonder and admiration of every visitor.
Among the curious things I noticed here was a'novel method of
SEI.LINO MILK.
The milkman brings his flock of goats to some convenient
stand ; takes one or two at a time, and leads them from door
to door, and fills the vessel of each customer with the unadul¬
terated beverage, smoking warm from the generous udder.
This mode of transportation is a great convenience, for among
these narrow streets and rocky stairways, no other milk-cart
could possibly be taken through. In some instances I saw
these novel milk-carriers ascending to the upper stories of the
Imuses, leaving a portion of their useful freight, and descend¬
ing with all the gravity and dignity of one conscious of having
performed a meritorious deed. Another curious mode of live¬
lihood is/ollowed by a class of persons known as
THE MALTESE DIVERS.
One of them came oflT to our steamer, with a boy to manage
his boat, while he should be left free to exercise his strange vo
cation. His entire dress consisted of a light pair of flannel
drawers, short at both ends, and a loose woolen shirt drawn on
over his head. Bringing his little craft alongside, where sev-
40
EGYPT AND SINAI.
eral of us were looking over the railing, and divesting himself
of his upper robe, he stood before us in his simple dress of a
single garment, and commenced in a supplicating tone of
broken English, " Sixpence, me dive for sixpence, gentlemen,
get him quick, get him sure, one sixpence, gentlemen." Curi¬
ous to see the operation, I tossed a shilling into the water, abont
fifteen feet from his boat. I knew the water was very deep,
and supposed he was going to the bottom for it. But his ex¬
perience had taught him an easier mode. He watched it with
the eye of a hawk as it descended from the railing of the
steamer, saw it strike the water, and poising himself a moment
upon the bow of his boat, like a marksman taking aim, head
first into the sea he went. The water was sufficiently clear to
see the whole process. Down he went like an arrow shot from
a bow, outstripping the money in the race for the bottom.
Before it had sunk fifteen feet, such were the celerity of his
movements, he had his hands beneath it, clasped in the form
of a bowl ; the shining piece dropped into the receptacle ; he
slapped it between his teeth, rose to the surface, climbed into
his boat, and exhibited the prize with the air of a conqueror.
This was repeated several times, and at every trial, with uner¬
ring certainty, he caught the prize. He then proposed, if any
one would toss a quarter into the water on the opposite side of
the steamer, he would dive under the boat and bring it up.
But no one seemed willing to risk the money, yet I was assured
by those accustomed to their operations, that he would as ccr-
tiiinly get it as it was committed to the water. To the biblical
student, this island is a place of great interest as the scene of
Paul's shipwbeok.
While yet the island was in the hands of barbarians, before
chivalrous knights had made it a home, or huge fortresses of
stone had reared their frowning fronts, this great apostle to
the gentiles, a prisoner for his faithful testimony to the cause
of Christ, was on his way to Bome to plead his own cause in
the palace of the Ceesars.
On this voyage that terrible shipwreck recorde'd in the twen¬
ty-seventh of Acts overtook him. For many days neither au»
PAUL'S SHIPWRECK.
41
ûor stars appeared. At last, after a terrible night of suffering,
daylight broke upon the distressed mariners, revealing a little
creek and harbor. Taking up their anchors, and loosing their
I udder bands, they hoisted their main sail, and ran their boat
on shore. They struck the sand where two seas met, and their
frail craft was dashed to pieces. What an hour of peril was
that! Yet the prediction of the apostle proved true, for on
" boards and broken pieces of their ship they all got safe to land"
They found themselves upon the island of Melita. The place
of their landing is still shown, about seven miles from Valetta.
I regretted that the shortness of our stay prevented my visit¬
ing the place. It was, however, an interesting thought that I
was passing over the same waters, and was so near the scene
of one of the most striking events in the life of this illustrious
apostle. I recalled his interview with the barbarous inhabit¬
ants, the kindness shown- him, the fire kindled from a bundle
of sticks, the venomous viper that leaped out from among
them and fastened upon Paul's hand, the hasty conclusion of
the ignorant islanders that he was some bloody criminal, who,
though the gods had allowed him to escape the perils of the
sea, they still pursued with vindictive justice upon the land.
They looked for him to swell up with the virulence of the poi¬
son and fall down dead. But when they saw him shake the
venomous reptile back into the flames, receiving no harm, they
changed their minds, and said he was a god, and would have
paid him divine honors. How fickle are the multitude !
Publius, the chief man of the island, received him, and
lodged him three days courteously. As a kind return for his
hospitality, Paul laid his hands upon his sick father, and re¬
stored him from a dangerous illness. Others came and were
healed of their diseases, and after having preachèd to them
Christ he was sent away, laden with many honors, and with
such things as were necessary for his comfort in continuing his
journey to Rome.
At 9 o'clock we left the harbor; the island like a,little blue
doud in the distance faded away, and again the trackless waste
of waters stretched like a boundless expanse around us. Sun¬
day at half-past 10 o'clock the passengers and crew assembled
Í2
EGYPT AND SINAI.
in the cabin, and the Church of England service was read, and
a sermon preached by a clergyman on his wa^ to the Indies.
Sabbath on the ocean brings hut little change ; the rattling ma¬
chinery thunders on, the sails swell with the passing hfoezc,
and the boatswain's sharp whistle calls the men to their accus¬
tomed work.
Tuesday. Have been now three days between Malta and
Alexandria. "We should have been in harbor to-day, but have
been retarded by head winds. To-night we had one of those
beautiful sunsets for which the Mediterranean is so renowned-
Nothing could exceed the majesty and splendor with which
the king of day sunk into his watery bed, transformed by the
touch of his own kindling rays into a molten sea of gold. To¬
morrow I shall be in Alexandria, stand upon the soil of old
Egypt, walk over the ruins of the ancient home of the Ptole¬
mies. What an animating thought!
Wednesday, Feh. 13. Expecting to enter port this morning, I
was early on deck. We were already in sight of land. On
the right the long, low line of the African coast was visible,
scarcely rising above the level of the sea ; not far ahead the
outline and prominent features of the harbor of Alexandria
lay before us. My heart beat high with expectation as the eye
caught its first glimpses of the land of Ham, the Mizraim of
the Hebrews, the field of wonders, in which so many of the
mighty miracles of God had been wrought. What a luxury it
will be to wander over those old fields, gaze on those ancient
monuments, mark the traces of the great hand of God in the
fulfillment of prophetic declaration !
As we neared the shore, one of the first things that caught
my attention, was the large number of wind-mills standing upon
the high sand-bank along the coast. They lifted their tall cir¬
cular forms, and stretched out their huge sheeted arms ike
giant spectres keeping sentinel along the coast. Water-power
cannot be obtained, and fuel is too scarce and expensive to
make steam, so the winds are pressed into service to turn their
machinery. The entrance to the harbor is a tortuous and
difficult one; vessels cannot come in at all by night,nor by day
without an experienced pilot.
Luxor
Mcrtwuiet Haboo
T\lithy5i
.TWÍFtrmc
i_ChT^p®;
isi. of Philg^j
Dakkeh
"ooriec-
Ainacfa.
BIRD'S-£TE VIEW OP EGYPT,
a MOBAL LESSON.
45
The city, that at first looked like a white line upon the low,
flat coast, began apparently to lift itself upward, and assume
definite form and shape. The houses stood out more distinct¬
ly; domes, minarets and spires stood up against the sky. We
were straining our eyes to catch the first glimpses of aught that
was curious or wonderful. There, just upon that projecting
point of land we are now passing, where you see an insignifi¬
cant light-house, stood
the ancient pharos.
It was one of the Seven Wonders of the World"—a famous
and costly tower, bearing upon its top, as it lifted its colossal
form above the waves, a beacon light to guide the mariner to
his port. It is said to have been so lofty it could be seen a
hundred miles at sea. This gigantic tower was a square build¬
ing of white marble, erected by order of Ptolemy Philadelphus,
three hundred years before Christ.
A curious story is told of the builder's inscription placed
upon it: "King Ptolemy, to the Savior Gods, for the use
op those who travel by sea.'* Sostratus, the builder, wishing
to secure the glory to himself, chiseled in the monumental
stone, "Sostratus of Cnidos, the son of Dexiphanes, to the Savior
Gods, etc." Over this he placed in hard stucco the inscription
bearing the name of Ptolemy. In process of time, the stucco
fell off, and future ages read the name of Sostratus. How
fickle a thing is fame, and in how many ways men are cheated
of their worldly honor and glory.
To me, there was an instructive moral lesson in this, as my
thoughts, in comparison, glanced to Him, the true Light, light¬
ing every man that comes into the world. How many a moral
builder would secure a temporary fame by putting himself
foremost—engraving his own name upon the rock, and hiding
,the honor of Him who alone can rear the enduring fabric!
But such builders will perish, and their proudest and most
enduring monuments, like this mighty Pharos, will become a
mass of buried ruins, while the work of the Great Master
Builder will forever stand, having a name above every name—
tiie glorious moral light-house of the universe.
46
EGYPT AND SINAI.
But here we are safe at our moorings. How stri»nge evor^
thing looks. There are the hulks of a number of great old
ships rotting away and falling, stick after stick, into the water.
They were once the Viceroy's fleet. The flags of many nations
float from the masts around us. There is a boat approaching,
manned by a number of marines in blue jackets. What pen¬
nant is that flying at her bow ? The stars and stripes ! Hail !
flag of my country ! The boat is from the "United States war
ship Susquehanna, now lying in harbor. They nave sent a
lieutenant to our steamer for English papers and American
news.
Our paddle-wheels were scarcely quiet before we were sur¬
rounded by a shoal of small boats, manned by a strange look¬
ing set of men, of all variety of shades, swarthy, brown and
black, with turbanned heads and long loose robes, chattering
away in a strange jargon of sounds, as unintelligible as the
hieroglyphics of the ancient monuments. Parleying was of no
use—to make a bargain was out of the question, for I had no
interpreter. I passed down my traveling bags, followed after
tliem, and was transferred to the shore, and landed in a little
enclosed area that opened into the custom-house. I handed the
boatman a quarter of a dollar ; he clamored loudly and gestic¬
ulated furiously, and declared in broken English he was not
half paid. I passed on without giving him any reply, for I
knew he was well paid, and that he would have been just as
importunate for more if I had given him four times the amount.
Th#e. boatmen are an insolent and rapacious set of fellows,
and you have to hold them in check with a bold look and a
flrm hand. The next thing was to go through
TÄE OU8TOM-HCÜSE
At Marseilles, I was required to give up my passport to tho
oflScers of the steamer, and was told that I would flnd it at the
ofiice of the American consul in Alexandria. "With a traveling
bag in each nand, I came to the door of the custom-house. A
liveried servant in Turkish costume guarding the door, politely
bowed me through, and I stood before the receiver of customs.
He wore a rich Turkish costume, a great turban on his head, a
GETTING TO A HOTEL
47
gold-hilted sword dangling at his side, and he was evidently
conscious of the dignity of his official position. He addressed
me in English : " Y our name, sir ? " " Randall, sir." He glanced
at a list of names in an open book before him : " All right, sir :
you can pass." I saw several passports lying upon his desk,
and understood at a glance how it was. They had been sen
in from the steamer, and he was already posted as to the num¬
ber and names of the passengers. Ho other questions were
asked, no examination of my baggage was made. Personal
baggage, I afterwards learned, is seldom examined at this port.
I moved on, and as I was bowed in by a liveried door-keeper
on the sea side, I was bowed out by another on the land side,
and suddenly found myself in one of the streets of Alexan¬
dria. And now came
ANOTHEE STRITQQLE.
I had scarcely passed the door, before I was surrounded by a
regiment of donkey boys, in dirty blue shirts and red tarbooshes
They began pulHng and snatching at my baggage, and' clam¬
oring for the privilege of taking me to a hotel. Luckily, au
omnibus—a modern European innovation—^from the very hotel
I had selected, stood at the roadside, with open door, and I
made a sudden and fortunate retreat into it. My disappointed
pursuers, seeing me beyond their reach, gave up the chase, and
returned to spend their importunities on some less fortunate
victim.
A crack of the driver's whip, and we were whirling through
the dirty, narrow streets of the Turkish quarter of the city.
As I looked around I said to myself, " How can I stop in such
a miserable, filthy, suffocating place as this?" But soon we
emerged into the English part of the town, and a magical
change came over the scene. A fine open square, ornamented
with fountains, and walled in with great stone-front houses, pre¬
sented a more inviting and home-like appearance.
THE EUROPEAN HOTEL,
At which I stopped, was kept by Cyprian Meurat, a French
man. The business of the hotel was mostly conducted iu French,
EGYPT AND SINAI.
though one or two of the clerks could talk English. Tho
house, like most others of the place, was substantially bùilt of
stone and brick, but little wood being used. The stairways are
all of stone, rough in appearance, while the floors are laid in a
coarse lime cement, which gives them a very cheerless appear¬
ance. The floors and walls are constantly crumbling, scatter¬
ing, like a great pepper-box, their sand and lime upon clothes
and furniture, and affording plenty of hiding places for bugs
and fleas. Of the presence of the latter I immediately had
positive demonstration. But fleas in Egypt are as common as
sunshine in the tropics, and the traveler may as well make up
his mind, from the start, to pay the tribute of blood demanded,
without protest, and with the resignation of a martyr. Still the
house was quite a comfortable place, more so really than I had
expected to find. I followed the porter—^he deposited my bag¬
gage in E"ô. 45, and vanished. I shut the door of my room,
threw myself into a chair, and was soon absorbed in
A TRAIN OF EEFLEOTIONB.
And here I am in Egypt ! How often in my far off home I
have pronounced that name ! What strange things have trans¬
pired around me ! Here was the early home of civilization—
the birth-place of literature—the cradle of science and arts—^the
garden and garner of the world! Here J am in Egypt—the
land of the Pharaohs, of pyramids, of catacombs, of mummies
and obelisks—of Israel's bondage and Moses' mighty miracles.
The land where Heroditus, Strabo and Tacitus came to study
history—where Plato, Lycurgus and Pythagoras went to school
A land of the wonderful creations of human power and genius,
that has long been, and long will continue to be, a place of in¬
terest and curiosity to the learned ; a land to which travelers
resort from all parts of the civilized world !
We are now to visit some of its renowned localities. Before
we begin, let us recall a few of the leading incidents in its his¬
tory.
THE EVENTS OF ANTIQTTITT.
Egypt is itself a book of history. It is one of God's great
monumental records, on the face of which he has written with
EUYPTIAN HISTOßY.
49
Ilia own lidua oaany of the strange events of the past. It is
astonishing how he has left his imprint upon her enduring
monuments. "We shall see, as we proceed, how remarkably he
has perpetuated the record of creation, and the early history of
the world—^how strange have been the instrumentalities em¬
ployed. We shall see it in the lengthened lives of the patri¬
archs, in the dispersion of the race, the journeyings of Abra¬
ham, and the cotemporaneous monuments, that the ravages of
war and the wreck of time have failed to obliterate. Over all
we shall see a superintending Providence, beneath all his guid¬
ing hand, around all his protecting presence and almighty powei.
Egypt is supposed to have derived its " name from Ham, the
sou of Hoah, and hence, in the Bible, it is frequently called the
land of Ham. The Hebrews invariably called it Mizraim,
from one of the sons of Ham. The Arabs, to this day, call it
Mizr, a contraction of Mizraim. The Copts call it Khemi, the
Turks El Kabit. The etymology of the common name, Egypt,
is involved in much mystery, and for. the application of the
name to this country, various reasons have been assigned. Seyf-
farth derives the name Copts, now applied to the existing rem¬
nant of the ancient race that once possessed the land, from
the word Egypt—Gyptus, Gypts, finally perverted into Copts.
With this allusion to the name, we pass to a brief notice of
ITS HISTOEY.
The early history of this land was long lost in the mists and
obscurities of ancient fable and tradition. Mistaking the chro¬
nological inscriptions of its monuments, some had been led to
assign to it a remoteness of antiquity completely astounding
to believers in the Mosaic record. But these absurd notions
of its great antiquity have been corrected. Recent researches
among its tombs and ruins, the discovery of the key to its
hieroglyphics, are all lending their aid to lift the vail that so
long concealed what multitudes had so earnestly desired to
know. The strange characters upon the obelisks, the inscrip¬
tions upon their sarcophagi, the papyrus rolls of their charnel
houses, the hidden chambers of their gigantic pyramids, have
all been made to speak. The stern reality of truth is rapidly
4
50
EGÍTPT AND SINAI.
dissipating the absurd fables With which these ancient record«
Had been invested.
THE FIRST GREAT HISTORIOAIi PERIOD
Reached from the creation to the flood—from the beautiful
garden, and flaming sword and cherubim of Eden, to the dark
and dismal waste of waters that entombed a world. The bright
bow of promise spanned the heavens with its radiance, when
Noah came forth from the Ark and walked the renovated
earth It was the morning of a new day.
The confusion of tongues interrupted the impious work upon
the heaven-defying tower of Babel. The new race of men
commenced their wanderings over the face of the earth. The
sons of Shem chose the fertile valleys of the east. Japhetb
and his descendants spread themselves over the continent and
islands of Europe. Ham wandered toward Egypt, and his son
Cush, with his children, went southward and westward into
' I
diflerent districts. One of these was the land of Ethiopia, be¬
yond Egypt. Mizraim peopled the land of the Nile, and was
the father of the Egyptians. The Nile and the Euphrates, with
their broad fertile valleys, early became the theatre of import¬
ant events. Egypt and Shinar were the starting points of two
great streams of history that have flowed on cotemporaneously
for thousands of years. But who have reigned here, and who
have been, during a long succession of years,
THE MASTERS OF THE LAND.
Tt has had many masters. This narrow strip of green earth
îhas been fattened by the blood of many a hard fought battle.
According to the best established chronology, the dispersion of
the (nations from Babel, and the origin of dialects, took place
about .2800 before Christ. Immediately after this, Menes, the
same as Mizraim, left Babel and went into Egypt. After the
death of Menes, the country was divided into several rival
states, whose jealous and war-like rulers, long before Abraham
left Ur of Chaldea, were contending for the mastery. Busilis
laid the foundation of mighty Thebes; Osymandes built many
magnificeq^.cities; and IJchoreus, his successor, built Memphis,
EGYPTIAN HISTORY.
51
which afterwards became a great city, more than seven leagues
in circumference, and the capital of the Egyptian Kings. Then
came Moeris, the artificer of the renowned lake, in which was
treasured the waters of the Kile—one of the most wonderful
pieces of workmanship in all the land, outvieing, in the esti¬
mation of some, the labyrinth and the pyramids. He was fol¬
lowed by the Shepherd Kings, who conquered and reigned in
.Lower Egypt. Under their reign, it is supposed, the land was
honored by a visit from Abraham, the great ancestor of the
Hebrew nation.
The Thothmes and Eameses succeeded, under whom Joseph
was brought here by the Ishmaelites and sold as a piece of mer¬
chandise. These were the Pharaohs that enslaved the Israel¬
ites Under them Moses was born, and reared and educated in
their court at Memphis, and the mighty miracles of the dehv-
erance were wrought.
After this arose Sesostris, a mighty man of war, whose am¬
bition aimed at the conquest of the world. He enriched him¬
self with the spoils of vanquished nations, was the founder of
a hundred temples, the builder of embankments and canals.
He improved, fortified, adorned and enriched his country. But
the splendor of his success dazzled and blinded him. In his
wild excesses, the weakness, folly and depravity of human na¬
ture triumphed. He harnessed kings and princes of conquered
nations to his car, glorying in his grandeur and their humilia¬
tion. After having reigned thirty-three years, blindness came
upon him, and he died as the fool dieth—by hu own hand 1
THE ETHIOPIAN CONQUEST
Followed, and they held dominion over the Ian 1. Then Cam-
byses marched over it with the thundering tramp of war. He
murdered their king, and plundered Memphis, the chief city.
He slew their holy bull. Apis, with his own sword, and scourged
their priests with rods. Following this was the conquest
of Alexander the Great, the founder of the city in which we
have now landed. He adorned it with the trophies of his bril¬
liant conquests, and here, no doubt, expected to spend the
evening of his life in pleasure and luxury, but his dissipations
52
EGTtT AND SINAI.
ended his career in the meridian of his da^ c. Here his body
was interred, and he became the recipient of divine honoiiB.
Alexander was succeeded by the prosperous
REIGN OE THE FTOIiEMI.EH.
During their administration the land recovered something
of its former prosperity and splendor. For nearly three
hundred years it was noted as the seat of wealth, learning and
power. Such was its strength, it survived the ruins of the As¬
syrian, Babylonian, Persian and Alacedonian empires. The
reign of the Ptolemies ended with
CLEOPATRA.
She poisoned her brother, aged fourteen, to secure an undis¬
puted possession of the throne. She reigned- twenty-two years.
At the age of thirty-nine, overcome by Octavius Caesar, and deter¬
mined she would not submit to the humiliation of gracing his
triumphal procession, she resolved to escape by a voluntary
death. A splendid banquet was prepared by her own order.
The executioner she had chosen was brought in by a faithful
servant, concealed in a basket of flowers. At the appointed
time, she desired her attendants to leave her—took tte poison¬
ous asp from its hiding place, and provoked it to i-wlict the
deadly wound. She immediately expired, and Egypt became
A ROMAN PROVINCE.
The Romans held possession of it from. thirty years before
Christ, till six hundred and forty years after. During this time,
the religion of Christ was preached among the inhabitants.
The ancient systems of idolatry gave place to a purer forpi of
faith. Alexandria became one of the principal seats of litera¬
ture and theology. Many eminerit Christian scholars found a
home here. Six hundred and forty years after Christ came
THE INVADING SARACEN.
Amrou, under the Caliph Omar, took Alexandria by assault,
and Egypt was subjected to their rule. During this period, it
was under the rule of several celebrated men. Among them was
SLAVES BECOME MASTEES.
53
the heroic Saladin. They were a brave, daring, reckless race,
liaving neither taste for adornments or veneration for the mag¬
nificent structures of antiquity. "With ruthless hands they
burned and plundered, and decay and desolation marked their
course. But the dynasty of the Caliphs was also to have an
end. They were overthrown and succeeded by
THE MAMALVKES.
These were so called from the Arabic name for slave. They
were of Caucasian origin—prisoners of war carried into slave¬
ry'. Many thousands of these captives were taken into Egypt.
After a time, a large company of them were formed into a
corps, and instructed in military arts. But they were not the
race of men to bear quietly the yoke of servitude. The Egyp¬
tians, desirous of making gain of human servitude, were uncon¬
sciously nursing a powerful enemy at their own firesides.
These slaves soon manifested a spirit of insubordination and
rebellion. In 1254 they mutinied against the government, as¬
sassinated the Sultan, Turan Shah, and made one of their own.
number Sultan of Egypt. Their dynasty had no birth-right
succession, but they usually appointed the bravest of their
own number leader; and thus, by their craftiness and superiori¬
ty, held control of the government tWo hundred and sixty-three
years. Their rule was brought to an end by Selim First.
He took Cairo by storm in 1517. Selim appointed a Turk¬
ish Pasha over Egypt, but the twenty-four Mamaluke Beys,
who governed the different provinces, still retained a large por¬
tion of their power. This singular class of persons continued
to maintain their number by fresh importations of slaves from
the regions lying between the Black and Caspian seas. Such
was the political state of Egypt for about two hundred years,
when it was found the Mamalukes had gained such ascendencyi
that the Pasha appointed by the Porte was obliged to conform
entirely to their wishes. At this period came
THE CAMPAIGN OP NAPOLEON.
This wily commander, aware of the importance of the East
India trade to England, conceived the design of planting him-
Ô4
EGYPT AND SINAI.
self between them and their rich eastern possessions. In 1797,
he landed with an army of thirty thousand men, and with sur¬
prising celerity commenced his operations. At the head of bis
army he marched upon Alexandria, which was taken July 5th,
.and immediately fortified. At the same time Rosetta was
taken by General Marmont, and July 6th, Bonaparte's whole
fieet was moored in the roads before Aboukir. Thirty thousand
men immediately marched in five divisions towards Cairo, the
capital. Near the pyramids of Gizeh, Murad Bey intrenched
himself with twenty thousand Mamaluke infantry, several
thousand Mamaluke cavalry, and forty pieces of cannon. But
the Mamalukes could not stand before the superior disciphne
of the Brench soldiery, and they fled in wild confusion to the
contiguous deserts. Three thousand of the enemy were left
dead upon the field. All their cannon and four hundred
camels fell into the hands of the French.
The victorious Bonaparte immediately marched upon C^o.
Ibrahim Bey, who was to have defended it, was driven over
the deserts to Upper Egypt, and Napoleon was master of the
land. But English jealousy and interest would not allow him
to hold undisputed possession. A severe struggle followed,
and he in turn was displaced.
Among the subordinates, schooled in these protracted con¬
flicts, was a young Turkish oflicer. He commenced his career
as a poor orphan, unlearned and unknown, but his humble
origin was no bar to his success. Nature had stamped him
with the impress of a leader, and he was destined to act a con¬
spicuous part in the subsequent history of this blood-stained
land. This was
MOHAMMED ADI.
He was a bold, sagacious, ambitious man. Possessing these
traits of character, he raised himself from an humble station
to that of a sovereign, who successfully met and repelled En¬
glish invasion, and dared even to defy his master the Sublime
Porte. In 1806, he was promoted to the Viceroy of Egypt,
which he governed upon European principles. He expelled all
enemies from his country, and subjected neighboring provinces
MuHAMMED ALI.
55
to his rule. He established armies and fleets, built fortiflca-
tions, carried on an extensive series of internal improvements,
established telegraphs, re-opened the canal between Cairo and
Alexandria. He interested himself in the improvement of ag-
ricultiire, established commerce, and promoted manufactures.
He formed favorable alliances with other nations, protected
strangers and foreigners, tolerated other religions, encouraged
learned travelers, and rewarded merit in the arts and sciences.
The most powerful nations of Europe sought his friendship—
the Sultan became jealous, and even alarmed at his increasing
power. Under his rule, Egypt enjoyed rest and prosperity.
But although he did so much for the improvement of the land,
he ruled with a rod of iron. As a private man, it is said, he
was kind, generous and humane ; in his public capacity, he
never seemed to spare his people. He extorted from them
money, and imposed upon them many heavy burdens. He
died in 1849, and his fourth son, Said Pasha, is now Viceroy,
who continues the liberal plans and improvements of his father.
Such is a brief synopsis of the history of this land, in the midst
of which we are now to enjoy a temporary sojourn.
56
egypt »^and sinat
CHAPTER V.
Preservation op Knowledge—Donkeys and Donkey Boys—
Sights in Alexandria.
Here we stand upon one of the world's great battle-fields !
Here Pagan, Mohammedan and Christian nations have contend¬
ed for the mastery. These wars have been, first, the executioners
to destroy, the sextons to bury, and then, in Cod's appointed
time, the resurrection power.to bring to light, at the time their
testimony was most needed, the buried records. Had we time
<•0 look through this eventful and bloody history, to trace
causes and mark results, we should see the footsteps of Deity,
and read His handwriting in many of these events.
an antediluvian historian.
The old patriarch, Methusalah, was one of the world's great
historians. Why did the Lord protract his life nearly one thous¬
and years? When Adam was six hundred and eighty-seven
years old, Methusalah was born. With Adam he lived and
conversed two hundred and forty-three years. He was one of
Adam's pupils, and from him he learned and treasured in the
store-^ouse of memory the wonderful history of the creation,
the entrance of sin,-the expulsion from Paradise, the defection
of Cain, and all the other interesting events in the first chap^
ters of the world's history.
Methusalah Lived to the very year of the fiood. One hun¬
dred years before the flood Shem was born. For a whole cen¬
tury he had Methusalah for his teacher, with full leisure to
learn all the history of the past. Shem survived the flood five
hundred years, and lived about thirty-five years with Abraham,
and Abraham was cotemporary with the early monuments of
Egypt, that are now unfolding their historic treasures.
PRESERVATION OF HISTORY.
ö7
Of so mucli importance do we consider this, we have prepared
«he following diagram, showing how the lives of four persons
have been,linked together, and made to extend over near tvx)
thousand two hundred years of the world's history, reaching from
the creation across the flood, down through the life of Ahraham
tc the time when God made selection of his chosen people, and
made them the depositories of the early history of the world,
by whom the record was most sacredly preserved :
Creation.
>
Qé
80
B
CD
O
o
CD
Od
CD
*<
m
p
Flood.
CQ
tr
cb
'ß
03
O
O
9
P
3
A. M. 1656.
A A
Monuments of Egypt
Abraham, 175 years.
Keep these historic links in mind—^Adam, Methusalah, Sheni,
Abraham. Thus Methusalah stood, before the flood, God's
Great Historic Ledger, reaching one hand back to Adam, re ■
ceiving the record from him, and with the other reaching for¬
ward, and handing it down to Shem. Then Shem, living upon
both sides of the flood, reaches hack and takes the record from
old Methusalah and hands it down to faithful Abraham, who
teaches it to his children, visited the Egyptians, and was co-
temporary with their inscribed monuments and written records,
from which we are now learning chronology and history. As
55
EGTPT AND SINAI.
we move among the ruins of this ancient land, how time seems
annihilated, and how closely we seem to be linked to the vener¬
able forms of the earliest ages of -the world ! How near we
get to the fountain-head of history! "We here stand by the
side of monuments under whose shadow Abraham rested.
Abraham ! who spent his boyhood with Shem, who saw the
world before the flood, and lived a hundred years with Methu-
salah, whom Adam dandled upon his knee, and who had seen
the unsullied beauties of a sinless world !
Again, for another illustration of God's overruling Provi¬
dence, look at Bonaparte's campaign in this land. Thins of
his long-continued and bloody struggles, the millions of treas¬
ure squandered, the thousands of lives lost ! What doest thou
here, O Corsican! and who hath sent thee? A company of
these French soldiers, in throwing up an intrenchment at Ro-
setta, lifted from its burial place in the earth a singular looking
stone. It was black Syenite basalt, covered with strange look¬
ing inscriptions. This was the famous
ROSETTA STONE.
The stone found its way to the British museum, where it still
can be'seen. It attracted the attention of scholars, and many
an hour did they gaze upon its strange, mysterious face. The
upper lines of the inscription were hieroglyphics. The second
was a strange character of an unknown kind, the third and
lower one was Greek.
The Greek was soon deciphered, and was found to contain a
recognition of the highest honors of the Pharaohs, in the per¬
son of Ptolemy Epiphanes, by the Egyptian priesthood. This
stone, which dated back nearly two hundred years before Christ,
furnished a key to the mysterious hieroglyphics, that had so long
puzzled the scholars of the world. And what results have fol¬
lowed! A long sealed book of history has been opened—mute
monuments, that have braved the storms for thousands of years,
have been made to speak—chronology has been incontestably
settled, the truth of scripture records confirmed ! If that cam-
^laigu had done nothing more than this, God ki his inscrutable
wisdom has wrought out by it a result in which all future
FULFILLMENT OF FROPHEOT.
59
j^uerations will rejoice. This laud, too, has borne a conspicu¬
ous part in
FROPHATIO DAQLABAIION
Most remarkably bave these prophecies been fulfilled. Some
of the judgments denounced fell upon the people in ancient
times ; the fulfillment of others are clearly seen in the presen
jondition of the country. Hundreds of years before the ap¬
pearance of Christ, the pen of inspiration had written her his¬
tory, and the unerring prescience of God pronounced her doom.
" They shall be a base kingdom. It shall be the basest of king¬
doms. Heither shall it exalt itself any more among the na¬
tions ; for I will diminish them, that they shall no more rule
over the nations. And there shall be no more a prince of the
land of ffgypt." ' Ez. xxx. 5, 7,12,13. " Behold, I am against
thee, and against thy rivers, and I will make the land of Egypt
utterly waste and desolate, from the tower of Syene even unto
the border of Ethiopia. * * * And I will make the land
of Egypt desolate in the midst of the countries that are deso¬
late, and her cities among the cities that are laid waste." Ez.
xxix. 10,13.
And now we are to walk over the soil of this wonderful land,
wander among its monuments, and meditate upon its ruins.
And what shall we see ? Every where the marks of ruin and
desolation—from Syene to the borders of Ethiopia, and along
the whole course of the Hile, we shall find the fulfillment of
prophetic record—that God has been against her, and against
her rivers; that he has made her a base kingdom, and her land
desolate. Let us walk abroad and commence our view of the
laud
THE CITT OF ALEXANDRIA
Was once an appropriate monument of the genius and entei-
prise of the great Macedonian conqueror. The desolating
storms of human passion have swept over it, and sadly has
it felt their influence. It is said there was an Egyptian city
here called Rhacotis, long before the son of Philip extended
Ills conquests into the land. On the ruins of this, three hun-
60
EGYPT AND SlJSAl,
dred and thirty-two years before Christ, Alexandria wa*
founded. The site was wisely selected, and Alexander designed
it to be the capital of his empire, setting the boundaries of the
walls with his own hand.
This city is still a place of great interest to the scholar, the
historian and the antiquarian. Within it and around it has
transpired many renowned events. Here was the home of the
Ptolemies—the seat of learning. Here came scholars from all
parts of the world, and the Alexandrian age occupies a promi¬
nent place upon historic pages. Here was the great
WORLD-KENOWNBD LIBRAEY.
It was established by Ptolemy Soter, and is said to have con¬
tained seven hundred thousand volumes—four hundred thous¬
and in the library of the Museum, and three hundred thousand
attached to the temple of Serapis. A copy of every known
work was reputed to be deposited there. In the storming of
the city by Julius Csesar, the shipping in the harbor was set on
fire—it reached the houses of the city, and spread to the Mu¬
seum. The building was saved, but the great library, which
had been accumulating for ages, and on which so much labor
and wealth had been lavished, was lost forever.
The Romans considered this city next in beauty and import¬
ance to their own capital. When taken by the Arabs, in the
year of our Lord 640, the Lieutenant Amer, in makipg his re¬
port to the Caliph, says : " I have taken the great city of the
West. It is impossible for me to enumerate the variety of its
richness and beauty. I shall content myself with observing
¿hat it contains four thousand palaces, four thousand baths,
four hundred theatres or places of amusement, twelve thousand
shops for the sale of vegetables, and forty thousand tributary
Jews." In this city stood
THE GREAT TEMPLE OP SERAPIS.
Serapis was one of the Egyptian deities, supposed to be the
same as Osiris, said also to be the same as Apis. A splendid
temple had been built for him at Memphis, and another costly
and magnificent one existed here. This temple stood long
ÀNOIENT RUINS.
61
after Christianity became the prevailing religion of Egypt. It
was the last stronghold and refuge of Paganism. The ancient
religion of Egypt gradually crumbled before the aggressive
power of a new faith, and about A. D. 389 the votaries of the
cross triumphed.
The temple of Serapis, Gibbon informs us, rivaled the pride
and magnificence of the capital. It stood upon the summit of
an artificial mount, raised one hundred steps above the level of
the surrounding parts of the city. The interior was firmly
supported by arches, and distributed into vaults and subterra¬
nean apartments. The consecrated buildings were surrounded
by a quadrangular portico. The stately halls and the exquisite
statues displayed the triumph of the arts. In the decline of
Paganism and the triumph of Christianity, this temple was ut¬
terly destroyed.
Besides this temple, the city contained many other magnifi¬
cent works—an extensive circus for chariot races, and a gym¬
nasium six hundred feet in length, covering a space of an
eighth of a mile, costly temples of Pagan deities, and princely
palaces of rulers. It is the ruins of these gorgeous and mas¬
sive structures that now compose these unsightly mounds we see
around us, over which the traveler often climbs unconscious of
the noble monuments that are entombed beneath his feet.
THE MONUMENTS OF T.H E PAST.
But little is left, and yet that little is of great interest to the
modern traveler. They are the links that connect him with
the past, through which he catches faint glimpses of the former
magnificence of the place. But as we are among strangers,
and ignorant of the language, we shall need a guide and don¬
keys. Guides are plenty, and rapacious as wolves. They hang
around every public house, and pull you by the elbow at every
corner of the street. Indeed, they commenced their importu¬
nities as far back as Malta, several coming on board our steam¬
er and offering, for a consideration of course, to go the whole
journey with us. "We had scarcely dropped anchor in the har¬
bor of Alexandria, before three or four were on board, present
ing their credentials and importuning for employment If ever
62
EGYPT AND SiNAl
you vi^t Egypt, do not hire a dragoman at Malta. He will hè
an expensive and useless incumbrance to you on the voyage
Do not hire one even at Alexandria, except for occasional ex
cursions. You will not need one permanently until you are
embarked in some long excursion, as going up the K^ile, or of
tent life in Syria, or the Sinai desert. I employed a guide foi
the day, and now we shall have occasion to introduce to you a
very useful and noted little animal,
THE EGYPTIAN DONKEY.
He is a small animal, usually, about three feet and a half
high, much lighter built than the Shetland pony. Though
now abused and degraded, he claims an honored ancestry. He
is said to be a descendant of the onager or wild ass of the
mountainous deserts of Tartary—an animal renowned in histo¬
ry, sacred and profane, for the fiery activity of its disposition,
the fleetness of its course, and still highly prized in that coun¬
try, and in Persia, as better fitted for the saddle than their best
breeds of horses. The ancient patriarch. Job, has introduced
Dim as a specimen of God's noble works.
" Who sent out the wild ass free,
And who loosed the wanderers' bands ?
Whose house I made the desert,
And the barren wastes his abodes.
He mocks at the clamor of the city ;
The driver's shouts he hears not;
The range of the mountains is his pastures."
Noble amimal ! how hast thou been debased, and what de
grading changes ignoble slavery has wrought in thy free, wild
nature ! Though so small in size, and destitute of the ardor
and impetuosity of the horse, though so stultified by the rigors
of taskmasters hard as Israel- ever knew, I do not see how
Egypt, the desert, or the Arab could do without him. He is
content with a much smaller quantity and coarser quality of
food than supplies the horse, and is far better adapted to moun¬
tainous regions and these sandy plains.
It is astonishing how useful the Egyptians contrive to make
thjs insignificant little animal. He is horse, chariot, cart and
LIFE IN ALEXANDKIA.
63
dra}', and I had like to have said family companion^ for ho
may often be seen domiciled with the children in the huts of
the fèllahs. His ears are long, erect, and incjined forward; his
head, with its sleepy-looking eyes, like that of the schoolmas¬
ter's horse, described by Irving, is set on to the neck like a
hammer. He is grave, sedate, looks wise, and minds his ovi
business—^is patient, and bears insult and abuse even to a fault,
but when forbearance ceases to be a virtue, his resentments are
kindled by the slumbering spirit of his ancestry.
Efts pack-saddle is quite ornamental, variegated with party-
colors of red and black, with a broad, stufíéd, easy seat for the
rider. His riding-bridle is usually a double rem, with a large
bundle of polished brass rings strung on them, which answer
the double purpose of ornament and of making a kind of tink¬
ling music when the animal is in motion. Camels are used for
heavy burdens, but the donkey is the great institution for the
transportation of persons, and all kinds of smaller wares and
merchandise. Is a trunk or chest to be moved, it is clapped
on to the back of a donkey, and held there by two or three
bare-legged Arab hoys; is water to be carried, he is loaded
down with a curious looking freight of leather bottles; is a
cellar to be dug, a troop of donkeys, each with a pair of bas¬
kets strapped across his back, are seen wheeling in and out,
carrying the dirt with the patience and precision of a grain
elevator in one of our large flouring mills, while great stones
for the walls are packed on to his back in the same manner ; is
a pleasure excursion to be made, these faithful little animals
are at once brought into requisition. And now for our first
experience in
DONKET-RIDINa.
We were no sooner at the hotel door- than our wants were
anticipated, and a score of donkey boys came shoving their ani¬
mals athwart our path. "With their hair shaved close to the
skin, and only a long tuft left upon the extremity of the tail,
a huge saddle, that nearly covered them up, they certainly pre¬
sent a very ludicrous appearance. It was also amusing to see
the earnestness with which the hoys, in broken English,pre-
64
EGYPT AND SINAI.
sented the claims of their respective animals. "Have a donkey,
sir? Good donkey—one ride sixpence. Have a donkey?
Good donkey." Seeing me examine one as if about to make a
choice, "Dat boy's donkey? He bad;—no good donkey—he
tumble over head. He, he, hee ! My donkey good donkey—he
go like steamboat. You take him, sah? Sixpence, only six¬
pence." The usual charge to foreigners is an English sixpence
for a short excursion, or from fifty to sixty cènts if hired by
the day.
Abdallah, my guide, made the selection, and I confess I felt
a sympathy for the little beast, as I was about to place myself
astride his puny form. He was so small a strong man could
easily have shouldered him, and it seemed to me my weight
would crush him to the ground. The- moment I was on his
back, my sympathy vanished, and my fears turned to wonder
and admiration at the strength and fleetness with which the
little fellow bore me, moving ofi" in a canter, with the ease of a
horse, my feet almost touching the ground. It is astonishing
what burdens they will carry. I have sometimes seen two per¬
sons upon the back of one at the same time, and the meek lit¬
tle animal trudging along with as much patience as though he
supposed himself destined to bear all the burdens his exacting
taskmasters could lay upon him. If you have a donkey, you
must have a
DONKEY BOY.
These boys are numerous and important enough to form a
distinct class in the population of Egypt. They are usually
^rom twelve to twenty years old, sharp and intelligent in all
matters pertaining to their business, and possessed of great
power of endurance. Their simple dress consists of a blue cot¬
ton frock or shirt, reaching from the shoulders to a little below
the knees. A belt is drawn around the waist, and the frock
oeing open above this in front, the bosom constitutes a pocket
or receptacle into which all kinds of articles, nuts, bread,
oranges, dates, etc., are stowed. This constitutes the lad's entire
wardrobe, except it be a tarboosh, or sort of skull-cap for the
head, which, most of them being Mohammedan boys, and having
SlGlirS IN ALEXANDRIA.
65
the crauium closely shaved^ except a single tuft upon the
crown, makes a necessary appendage. No provision seems to
be made for a change of clothing ; one robe answers till it is
worn to tatters, and then anpther is substituted ; the independ¬
ent boy never gets in debt to the wash-woman.
The donkey is seldom taught to be guided by the bit, as we
>ise our horses, but tbe donkey boy runs behind him and guides
him with a stick right and left, or urges him forward, as »be¬
comes necessary.- In this way he runs behind you all day long,
if necessary, and seems to have as much power of endurance
as the donkey himself. They carry a heavy stick in their hand,
with which they hammer and cudgel the poor beast most un¬
mercifully, the hams of many of them being actually hard and
callous from the constant infliction of these heavy blows. Like
the bea'sts they drive, they are accustomed to a coarse and sim¬
ple fare, and if they get small wages, it costs them but little to
live. They are adepts in their business ; dealing so much with
foreigners, and such a mixed multitude congregating in this
part of the world, it is no uncommon thing to hear the same
boy answering with equal facility in English, Arabic, French,
Greek or Italian, and driving his bargain with astonishing
shrewdness. At first I felt much commiseration for them at
what seemed to be their hard lot in following my donkey hour
after hour, but when one day one of them had run after me
between thirty and forty miles, my donkey, some of the time,
on a full gallop, I asked him if he was not getting tired. He
seemed indignant at the bare insinuation, and answered mo
with a contemptuous tone: "Tired? No ! Donkey boy never
get tired."
But here I am in full canter on a donkey, boy behind, and
guide before. "What shall I show you first? Passing out of
the gate on the southern side of the city, you have only eighteen
hundred feet to ride, when you reach an irregular eminence,
upon the summit of -vyhich stands
pompkt's pillar.
It is an old and renowned monument, of pedestal, base,, shaft
and capital, all of which have been minutely examined by the
5
66
EGYPT AND SINAI.
curious and scientific. The pedestal is a huge block of granite,
about ten feet square, on which is laid a thinner and bronder
stone, constituting the base of the column. From thjs uhoots
up an elegant shaft of red granite of Syene, round and smooth¬
ly polished, on which rests the capital, of a different kind of
stone, and of inferior workmanship. The diameter at the top
of the capital is sixteen feet six inches, and on it is supposed
to have formerly stood an equestrian statue. This beautiful
and magnificeni abaft, rising in Iqnely and solemn grand^ir
from the ruins of a buried city, is all of one piece, seventy-three
feet high and twenty-nine feet eight inches in circumference.
The whole bight of the column from base to capital is ninety-
eight feet nine inches.
This interesting relic of antiquity has long oeen left unpro¬
tected. The lower end of the shaft and portions of the base
have been much defaced by travelers, who have chipped off
portions of the granite as mementoes of their visit.
Returning to town, we passed through an extensive Turkish
cemetery. The oblong white-washed monuments that covered
the grounds are so different from any thing we see in our own
country, they present a very novel appearance; but the grounds
were all open to the common, the tombs were in a dilapidated
condition ; no shade trees, 'grass-plats or shrubbery ; the whole
place had a desolate and cheerless aspect, contrasting strangely
with the beautiful groves of palm trees, and the gardens of or¬
anges and citrons about it. We passed through the city, and
directed our course to
CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLES.
These are found at the northeast angle of the city, just with
in the walls and near the sea shore. Of these remarkable obe¬
lisks there are two, one standing, the other has fallen down,
and is now nearly buried in the ground. They are of the same
material as Pompey's Pillar, red granite, from the quarries of
Syene, a town of Upper Egypt. It is said they stood original¬
ly at Heliopolis, before the Temple of the Sun, and were brought
to Alexandria by one of the Csesars. The name of Cleopatra
■lias become connected,with them, hut it is not known she ever
ÜLEOPATBA S NEEDLES.
67
had anythinpf to do in tholr erection. The fallen one lies close
to its pedestal, which stood on two steps of white lime-stone.
The length of this one, in its mutilated state, is sixty-six feet,
and was given, many years since, by Mohammed Ali to the En¬
glish government, as a token of gratitude for the assistance re¬
ceived from them. He even went so far as to ofier to put it on
board any transport they might send to convey it to England.
For some reason the offer was not accepted, and now it is so
much mutilated, and the inscriptions so defaced, the project of
its removal has been entirely abandoned. It will soon be buried
from sight, another entombed memorial of the massive monu¬
ments of an extinct race. These two obelisks stood about
seventy paces apart, gracing the entrance to some magnificent
structure, probably the grand Temple of Caesar, the ruins of
which have now entirely disappeared.
The standing obelisk is about seventy feet high, seven feet
seven inches in diameter at the base, and tapering towards the
top to less than five feet. Three long lines of hieroglyphics
stretch from base to apex along each side of this huge shaft.
It was the first Egyptian monument I had met inscribed with
these strange characters, and long and earnestly I gazed upon
them. Upon two sides of the monument these characters have
been much injured by the action of the winds and drifting
sands, but the cuttings of the other two sides still retain a re¬
markable freshness, and one wonders how they could so long
and so successfully have resisted the corroding power of time.
The awe with which one looks upon these strange characters
is now much diminished, for the awful vail of mystery that once
enshrouded them has been lifted, the patience and perseverance
of modern investigation has triumphed, the secrets of the obe¬
lisks, tombs and pyramids have been unfolded. The central
line of hieroglyphics is found to be much the oldest, and fixes
the date of the king in whose reign it was first erected. "Wil¬
kinson finds here the name of Thothmes HE, a monarch who
reigned fourteen hundred and ninety-five years before Christ.
In the side lines are the ovals of Remeses the Great, the sup
posed Sesostris, 1353 before Christ.
With what feelings of wonder and reverence one gazes upon
68
EGYPT AND SINAI.
these monunrental records of men and cities that have long
since passed away ! Nearly thirty-five hundred years ago these
immense blocks of stone were chiseled and carved with exquis¬
ite skill, transported hundreds of miles, and by herculean
power set upon their strong foundations. Did not God permit
them to be constructed, and has he not preserved them as pre¬
cious leaves in his historic books, that the knowledge of the
past might not be entirely obliterated ? From Cleopatra's Kee
dies we turned to visit
the catacombs.
"We have been traveling over the ruins of the city of the liv¬
ing, gazing upon its monuments, and trampling upon the
crumbling ruins of temples and palaces. This is Necrópolis,
the City op the Dead ! A ride of a little more than two miles
and a half towards the coast to the westward of the city,
brought us upon the confines of these wonderful subterranean
structures, which, it is said, more than any thing else, attests the
greatness of the former city. The grounds near the entrance
Avere once covered with the costly habitations and beautiful
gardens of the suburbs of the city. It is not only the vast ex¬
tent of these underground tenements that excite admiration,
but the architectural symYnetry and beauty found in many of
them, the more wonderful from the fact that they are all chis¬
eled in the solid rock. One chamber has a Doric entablature
and moldings of the Greek style, there being nothing like it
in any other part of Egypt.
In one place my guide took me into a small rock-hewn tem¬
ple entirely under ground. There was an altar and seat for the
officiating priest, and a ledge of the native rock left around
three sides, in the form of the settees or divans in oriental
buildings, intended for seats. From it doors opened into sev¬
eral other chambers, with numerous niches cut in the rocks, in¬
tended as receptacles for the bodies of tie dead. It was evi
dently intended, and used in former days, for the performance
of sepulchral rites. I could not but refiect, as I stood in this
subterranean chapel, how awfully solemn and impressive must
have been the obsequies of the dead in these iower regions'
MONUMENTAL STONES.
69
Cht profound stillness, the dim light of the flickering lamps,
the solemn chant and funeral wail, all the gloomy associations
of the place must have added intense solemnity to the scene,
ns mourners and friends gathered around the bier in this lone
charnel house. In these tombs generation after generation de¬
posited their dead. Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, Romans anc
Baracens have, no doubt, in turn used them, and diflerent na¬
tions, the rich and the poor, the lordling and the slave, havo
here blended in common dust.
Most of these tombs are now empty ; through chamber after
chamber scarce a bone can he found. Some of them date hack
to an early Egyptian period, and in them have been found sar¬
cophagi, mummies, gold and silver ornaments, vases of differ¬
ent materials and of curious workmanship, which have been
taken to enrich the museums of Europe and America.
But we must close our visits to these monumental records
that link the present with the past. Ancient Alexandria, with
all her magniflcence and splendor, is now nothing but heaps of
ruins. The modern city stands upon the ruins of the past, like
a monumental stone upon the burial vault of the dead. Here
costly palaces of kings and gigantic temples of deities have
fallen and crumbled, and over their ruins the desert sands have
drifted, and on the accumulated piles of broken shafts, capitals
and entablatures, the rank weeds flourish and the careless villa¬
ger roams. The wild Arab came with his sword and spear,
and rolled the desolations of war over the place. The monu¬
ments of,splendor, wealth and art wasted before him—ruin and
death were in his path. Pompey's Pillar and Cleopatra's Hee-
die alone are left, lifting their giant forms against the sky—en
during monuments, marking, like grave-stones, the site of a
lead and entombed city.
70
EOrPT AND SINAI.
CHAPTER VI.
A Hiqhi in Alexandeia—^Ripe to Cairo—Sights and Scenes
Along the "Wat.
There is but little in modern Alexandria of interest to tl<e
traveler. The European population have exerted great influ¬
ence upon the place; the streets have been named and the
houses numbered. The population is a mixed multitude of
many kindreds, tribes and tongues, and not famous for their
morality or integrity. •
The Erank square, supposed to occupy the very site of the
ancient docks, is by far the most inviting place in the city. In
this square stands a small obelisk of oriental alabaster, pre¬
sented to the city by Mohammed Ali. Around the square the
English church, the principal hotels, and the offices of most of
the foreign consuls are found. The city is now a great com¬
mercial place, and many of the Franks and Greeks are quite
wealthy.
The streets of the Turkish quarter are narrow, irregular and
dirty, there being no appearance of plan or order in the ar¬
rangement of them or the houses. Occasionally, a fine lat¬
ticed window or an old Saracenic arch will arrest Attention,
while the bazars present a most novel and curious scene to one
who has never before visited a city of the Orient. After a ride
through the bazars, along the harbor, by the canal among the
multitude of boats, piles of merchandise, long lines of store¬
houses, and queer looking laborers of all colors, tribes and
tongues, Abdalla took me to
THE VIOEBOT'S PALACE.
This was built by Mohammed Ali, when Alexandria was
raised to the distinction of sharing with Cairo the honors of
JUSTICE A HABEM.
71
the capital It is a fine residence, combining the European
and Oriental styles of architecture. It stands upon an emin¬
ence facing the harbor, commanding a most enchanting view
of the port and the shipping. The entrance was through a
small garden into a large inclosure, with high walls on all sides.
The ascent of a Turkish staircase brought us to the entrance
jf the principal rooms, at the head of which we found two
A.rab servants, keeping watch over the place. A backsheesh,
of course, could only open the doors of this sanctum of royalty.
The fee was paid ; Abdallah slipped off his shoes and left them
at the head of the stairs; the servants, having no polluting in¬
cumbrance of the kind, had no preparation to make, while I,
being a Frank, and not expected to observe the usual forms
of sanctity that characterize the place, was allowed to walk on,
with hat and shoes, unmolested. The style is Oriental and
gaudy in the extreme. Some of the rooms are magnificently
furnished, enriched and ornamented with costly presents from
the different sovereigns of Europe. One of the most remarka¬
ble of these, is a splendid round table of Roman mosaic, repre¬
senting the most interesting monuments of the Eternal City—
a present from the Pope. Kear the palace, just across the
public highway, and also facing the sea, is
THE HAREM.
This, of course, we were not allowed to visit, but the gate ot
the outer inclosure standing open, we were witnesses of a very
novel, but I cannot say interesting, scene. Just without tho
gate, three swarthy looking fellows had an Ethiopian servant,
naked down to the hips, prostrate upon his face, one holding
him by the hands and head, another by the feet, while the
third was laying a rope's end upon his naked back as though
his very life depended upon the vigor with which he applied it.
The poor fellow groaned, writhed and yelled, but there was no
mercy for him. Seeing a crowd rapidly gathering, the execu¬
tioner paused, made a pass at them with his rope's end, scatter-
mg them in double quick time, while the two assistants jerked
their victim within the inclosure and slammed to the gate,
lustigateà by the curiosity common to our race, I told Abdallah
72
EGYPT AND SINAI.
to step up to the gate and see if he could learn what crime the
poor fellow had oomraitted for which he was so severly handled
He returned in a few minutes, stating that the fellow had stolen
money and lied about it, and that they were going to get salt
water to dip the rope in and continue the beating. 0, Justice !
if this is the rigor with which thou dealest in the harems of
Pashas, I should choose to incur thy displeasure in some place
where thine exactions come with a slower and lighter hand !
The day closes, and our excursion ends. To-morrow morning
I am to leave for Cairo, to see more of the wonders of this land,
to catch the first glimpses of the mighty pyramids, and walk
the streets of the old city of the Caliphs.
NIGHT IN AN EGYPTIAN CITY
Is a gloomy place ; no gas-light, business suspended, stores
and shops all closed, no amusements, no meetings, no windows
next the streets to shed even a little light upon the gloomy
alleys ; if the moon does not come out to relieve the scene, all
is literally involved in Egyptian darkness.
I sat down to review the day, my first among the scenes of the
Orient. That dragoman ! who had so kindly urged himself upon
me as guide, seemed to stand like a spectre before me. Let me
see—^how much am I indebted to him? I had to pay fifty
cents for a donkey for him, and a backsheesh to his donkey
boy ; he made me pay double backsheesh to a ragged old Arab
at Pompey's Pillar, who pretended to take care of it, and an¬
other at Cheopatra's Heedle, when neither of them had a right
to a single para, and had no business there only to beg from
travelers ; asked me for a shilling to buy a wax candle with which
to go into the catacombs, when he knew the old Turk in attend¬
ance would furnish a torch and make me pay roundly for it,
and he would keep the candle for his own use when he got
home ; asked me to give a backsheesh to the old Turk and a
tew pence to each of half a dozen ragged children he called his
family ; made me pay fifty cents to those rapacious servants at
the Pasha's palace, when half that amount would have been
more than enough; helped me to do a little shopping, and con¬
nived with the salesman to make me pay double price for evei y
A NIGHT IN ALEXANDRIA.
73
article ; then charged me only one dollar and a half for his ser¬
vices, and got through time enough to go all around again and
gather up half the backsheesh as his share of the spoils ! All
this when I could just as well have dispensed with his services,
taken a donkey boy, that could talk English, and done the
whole of it with the aid of my guide-book. 0, Abdallah Sulei
man 11 must record thy name in my book as a type of thy pro
fession. I see I have many things to learn—shall be wiser
when I get to Cairo.
The morning light found me wakeful, as I had been through
the night. Darkness was upon the city, hut silence held no
dominion. Dogs are among the notable things of this land
and city. They go trooping about in packs like wolves. They
are a gaunt, hyena-looking breed, acknowledging no master, and
yielding obedience to no law but that of their own savage na¬
ture. They make night hideous with their bowlings, and get
up numerous fights, which seem to be a part of their regular
business. In addition to this, we had
ihs watchman's call.
Every fifteen minutes a yell rung through the city as if a
hundred men were prompted by some impending calamity to
rouse the sleeping denizens. I learned in the ihorning thçse
were the watchmen. Every fifteen minutes the leader of a di¬
vision, taking an assigned stand, gathers himself up for the
effort, and commences a long, shrill cry ; each watchman catches
the key and prolongs the sound. It goes from street to street,
from square to square, till every dome, turret and battlement
rings with the echoes. A calm of fifteen minutes succeeds, and
again the prolonged shout assures the waking citizen " all is
well." Then came, as a strictly Mohammedan peculiarity of
the place,
the muezzin's OALIi to PBATEB.
Five periods are set apart in each day as special seasons of
prayer. These every good Mohammedan is expected to ob¬
serve, but they are often neglected, and many persons, it^s said,
do not pray at all. But this neglect does not arise from the
74
egypt and sinai.
want of an admonition. From the minarets of their mosqnev
tlie call is regularly made. One of these calls is just after mid
night, another about the break of day. At the appointed hoar
the muezzin ascends to the gallery of the minaret, pitches his
voice to a monotonous chant, and commences : " God is great,
God is great ! Prayer is better than sleep. ' I testify that there
is no deity but God. I testify that Mohammed is God's apos¬
tle. Come to prayer, come to prayer." The call varies upon
different occasions. Sometimes quite long exhortations are
given. The time for the morning call is just as the light is
dawning, at the very moment, say their books, that a man can
distinguish between a black thread and a white. Most of th^
pious watchmen have very harmonious voices, and as they come
breaking in melodious sweetness upon the still air of night,
there is in them a simple and solemn melody at once peculiar
and touching.
orr rob caibo.
The present facilities for reaching Cairo can only be appre¬
ciated by those who have been familiar with the former slow
locomotion of canal and river. Then, it was by the toilsome
process of wind, sails and oars ; now, a first class railroad of one
hundred and thirty miles in length connects the two cities.
There are three rates of fare, ten, five and a half, and two dol¬
lars nearly, when reduced to our money. At 9 o'clock a. m.,
the last signal whistle was given, the motley crowd that had
gathered around opened right and left, and we struck out into
ahe great delta of the Nile. Upon our right, as we pass, is lake
Mareotis, an immense sheet of water, renowned in old Egyptian
history. It was formerly connected by canals with the river,
its banks were thickly inhabited, and it was adorned by several
beautiful and fertile islands. The gravelly nature of the soil
of these islands peculiarly fitted them for the culture oi the
grape, and the Mareotic wine was celebrated above all others
for its exquisite qualities.
Away to the left is the harbor of Aboukir, where Nelson
with his fleet met the French in 1798. The conflict was a
bloody one—the English losing in killed and wounded eight
COMPULSORY LABOR.
75
liundrcd and ninety-five men, the French fifty-two hundred
ana twenty-five. His victory was complete; all the French
ships except two were captured, and the victor was rewarded
with the title, Baron Nelson of the Nile. And now may be seen
die long-pointed lateen sails of the boats upon
MOHAMMED'S GREAT CANAL.
This canal is about sixty miles in length, connecting Alexan¬
dria with the Nile at Atfeh. It was formerly the main thor¬
oughfare for travelers, and still continues to be for large quanti¬
ties of merchandise and produce. There was a canal here in
ancient times, but Mohammed Ali found it in a ruined condi¬
tion, a portion of it having been choked up for centuries. This
energetic but exacting prince found it necessary to repair it, to
consummate his plans for making Alexandria the commercial
capital of his kingdom. He made a compulsory levy upon the
villages of the land for workmen. It is said that twenty thous¬
and men were employed on it without pay, driven to their work
like beasts of burden. These were relieved from time to time
by fresh relays, each working a certain number of days. Such
was the energy with which the work was prosecuted, it was
completed in six months. And yet such was the fatigue and
exposure of the workmen, poorly fed, and unaccustomed to the
low and swampy grounds, it is estimated that from twenty to
thirty thousand of them perished. So level is the country,
there is not a single lock the whole sixty miles from Alexandria
to Atfeh. It is a long, muddy, dirty ditch, twelve to fifteen
feet deep, and fifty to one hundred wide.
Much of the land in the vicinity of Alexandria is low and
wet, too much so for cultivation. As we passed on, the fértil it;^
of the land seemed to increase. The immense green plaiu
stretched out upon each side of us as far as the eye could reach
The second crops since the inundation were now growing, tht
first having been harvested about two months since. Crops of
some kind are raised all the year round, except when the sol
IS covered with water from the inundation of the Nile. Ther<
IS no frost or cold weather sufficient to prevent the growth of
vegetation.
76
EGYPT ANG SINAI.
Every thing as you pass has a strange and crien cal Ioc»k
Manners, costumes, modes of building, living and working, are.
all différent from what we have been accustomed to see. Oc«
sionally we pass one of
THE MODERN VILLAGES.
The present population, numbering about two millions, are
gathered into the cities and villages. These villages of the
fellah's are the most miserable places imaginable. The houses
are small, dirty and uncomfortable, built of unburnt bricks, and
cemented with mud. Most of them are only one story high, and
have but one room. A few pieces of the palm tree are stretched
across the top as beams or joists to support the roof, on which
are laid millet stalks or palm leaves, and over these is daubed a
covering of mud. A hole or two in the mud walls, sometimes
grated, constitute the windows and answer for the admission
of light and air. Glass is seldom seen. The door is low, often
not more than three or four feet high, and this, in many in¬
stances, answers for both door and window. The floor is not
unfrequently a foot or two below the level of the ground. A
little elevation of earth, about a foot high and two broad, runs
around a portion of the room in the form of a divan, answering
the purpose of a seat by day and a bed by night, on which
they spread a mat, if they are able to indulge in such a luxury;
if not, the bare ground is used. Most of these houses have an
oven, built, like the houses, of mud and brick, arched within
and flat on the top. In cold nights the top of this is the family
lodging place, a fire having been kindled within. As they
have no extra clothing for the night, this arrangement often
adds much, to the comfort of the inmates. These villages they
generally contrive to build upon a little eminence, formed gen¬
erally by the debris of ruined towns, that they may escape the
inundations of the Nile.
Their furniture is of the simplest and most economical kind.
Think of it, 0 ye daughters of luxury, who go laden from your
fathers' houses with a costly supply fit for a palace ! A mat, if
convenient, for a bed, if not, the mud floor, or the top of the oven,
vill answer; a little hand-mill to grind the corn, a skillet to cook
AN EQYFTIAN VNLLAH.
'MSKOAi Hvnaa
CONDITION OP THE NATIVES.
79
It in, and a stone jar or two for water, and the young couple are
ready to enter upon the fond enjoyments and responsible du¬
ties of the conjugal relation. No chairs, no bedsteads, no
tables, no chest of drawers, no spoons, knives or forks, and as
for a wardrobe—shade of Flora McFlimsey!—a blue cott<»n
frock or chemise, the corner of which sometimes answers for a
vail, the only dress by day and the only garment by night, de¬
fying the power of fashion to change its form or cast it aside
till worn to shreds, its place is supplied by a fellow of its own
likeness. And as for the little ones—what native simplicity !
No waste of soap, no morning and evening chorus over the
dreaded wash-bowl ; and if you have no rags to cover them, they
go rollicking about the Soor, or troop iu herds about the village
common, in costume such as Dame Nature alone bestows.
I am aware this will be thought an exaggerated picture, but I
am dealing in grave realities. About Alexandria and Cairo,
and along the line of the railroads, frequent contact with the
Franks, and the introduction of European habits of tidiness,
and attention to personal appearance, has produced considera¬
ble change. The habits of dress and modes of life have been
much improved, and naked children are not as often seen. But
in many parts of the land it is astonishing with what strange
indifference the unrobed human figure is regarded. The pro¬
prieties of civilized life, among both male and female, are
strangely disregarded. Nor have I overdrawn the cheerless,
comfortless, destitute condition of their homes. They live
mostly yat of doors, and men and women, in their thin, dirty
dress of blue, may be seen at all hours of the day, sitting
around the outside of their miserable mud hovels, flat upon the
bare ground, in the midst of filth and fleas, with their squalid
children gathering around them. Chickens are abundant, and
appear to enjoy uninterrupted ingress and egress to all the hu-
nuiu apartments; while goats roam in unrestrained liberty;
donkeys make a part of the family household, and savage,
hyenarlooking dogs roll in the dirt with the children, or lie
basking in the sun on the house-tops, or, what is more common,
come driving at you with open mouth and wolf-like fierceness.
The fellaheen or villagers of Egypt may have a different stand-
80
EGYPT AND SINAI.
ard of social bliss and the comforts of life from other portion«
of the world, but to one accustomed to the blessings and luxu¬
ries of civilization, they appear to be reduced to the mosi
abject poverty and wretchedness. Of such degradation, filth
and squalid misery, I had never before formed a conception.
Neither Europe, in the abject poverty of factory operatives and
miners, or America, with her delving slave population, can
^ve any examples of the kind.
The men appear to be a lounging, indolent, easy set of fel¬
lows, more lazy than vicious. Some women of the lower class
go entirely without vails, and are often seen engaged in
the most menial drudgery ; yet even in such ones the ruling
passion for ornament shows itself; a row of small coins or coial
beads will grace the neck, a massive bracelet adorn the wrist,
and not unfrequently the ears, and sometimes even the nose, is
graced with a pendant of clumsy jewelry. Some tattoo the
arms and the face, and others stain their nails, eye-brows, and
sometimes other portions of the body, with henna. The chil¬
dren of these poor peasants are a forlorn looking set. Their
eyes, often affected with ophthalmia, nearly closed up and cov¬
ered with flies, are never washed, for fear of increasing the vir¬
ulence of the disease! They are often carried about sitting
carelessly astride the mother's shoulder, apparently as much
at ease, and having as little fear of falling as though they were
snuggly tucked into a cradle. But after all the debasement
and poverty to wbich the lowest class of the female population
is subjected, bare-limbed and scantily clad as they are, there is
often a dignity and grace in their movements, contrasting
strangely with their personal appearance. To see one standing
erect, with her child astride of her shoulder, or bearing a well
poised water-jar upon her head without the assistance of either
hand, as one has welj said, no Andalusian 'could tread tfie earth
with greater freedom or grace.
As you ride on, cast your eye right and left over the plain.
The monotony of the green valley is broken here and there, not
only by such a mud village as we have described, but occaâion-
ally a sheik's tomb, a .ittle dome-like, white-washed structure,
is seen amidst the verdure, and here and there the graceful
THE HEAD-DRESS.
81
date-palm lifts its strait and elegant form into the air, shaking
its graceful feathery foliage in the breeze. "Where now so few
villages are seen the land was once densely peopled.
THE PRESENT POPULATION.
The present population of Egypt is truly a mixed multitude
hero are Moslem Egyptians, Christian Egyptians or Copts, Os-
manlees or Turks, Syrians, Greeks, Armenians, Jews, and rep¬
resentatives of most of the European nations. The Moslem
Arabs compose the main portion of the population, and though
strangers and foreigners, they have overrun and possessed the
land. Their number and influence have been such as to entirely
change the language, laws and general manners of the country.
A large mixture of Abyssinian blood, and of other African
tribes has been introduced among them, so that they vary much
in the color of their skin—some have a clear yellowish com¬
plexion, some are tawny, others quite black. The country
people, or agriculturists, are called fellaheen, the singular is
fellah. The language of the county is Arabic; this is taught
in their schools, and made the general medium of communica-
von for contracts, business and official transactions.
THE "TURBAN.
We have spoken of the dress of the lower classes—that of
the middle class is much better, and of the higher class often
elaborate, rich and elegant. The turban is a Moslem institu¬
tion, and worthy of special notice. The men all wear it while
living, and a marble one usually adorns their grave when dead.
Their method of. shaving the head makes a head-dress more
essential, not only to cover up the bald portion of the closely
shaven pate, bpt also to conceal the strange looking tuft that
crowns its summit. The uncovered head of one of these sons
of Ishmael has certainly a very fantastic appearance, and would '
not fail to excite the mirth of any one unaccustomed to it;
therefore, they are as careful of uncovering the head in com •
pany as a bald gentleman with us would be of lifting his wig.
A small, close-fitting cotton cap is drawn over the head ; over
this is drawn a "tarboosh," a rea cloth or felt cap, also fittinsr
82
EGYPT AND SINAI.
close, rounded upon the top to conform to the shape of the
skull, and surmounted with a long, heavy tassel of dark blue
silk. To complete the toilet, a long cashmere shawl, or piece
of white muslin, or striped silk, or any other color to suit the
degree of rank, religious sect, or fancy of the wearer, is wound
several times around the head, and the «ends tucked under.
This is the turban. Mohammed wore it, and every Mussulman
esteems and honors it, though it is a hot and cumbersome head¬
dress for a warm climate. Among the poorer class of boys,
many, from poverty, wear only the cotton cap, and some add
the tarboosh, without the cumbrous scarf adornment. A " she-
reef," or descendant of the Prophet, is permitted to wear a
green turban, and may also sometimes be seen in a bright
green dress.
Several different sects are distinguished by the color and
form of the turban. The Druses of Syria wear a monstrous
white one ; the Jews and Copts, conforming to the custom of
the country, wear them, but of a different color from those of
the Turks and Arabs—those of the Jews almost uniforndy be¬
ing of dark blue. As an instance of the great respect paid to
the turban, a story is told of a sheik who was thrown from
his donkey in the streets of Cairo, and himself and turban sent
rolling in the dirt. The bystanders pursued the turban, crying,
"Lift up the crown of El Islam." The unfortunate sheik,
vexed that his head-dress should receive more attention than
his person, gathered himself up and cried out in anger: "Lift
up the sheik of El Islam."
SlilFFBBS, SMOKIXa, SIGNET RINGS.
Stockings are not worn, but cotton or woolen socks are some¬
times put on in the coldest weather. The shoes/ire a low kind
of slippers, made of «bright red morocco, sharply pointed at the
toes, and turned up like a sled runner. As these are always
slipped off when one enters a mosque, or steps upon a mat or
carpet, they are generally worn turned down at the heel.
• Smoking is a national business; find an Egyptian if you can
without a pipe in his mouth, and a pouch of tobacco m his bo-
LADIES' COSTUMES. S3
•om. They live and die amid the curling clouds and delicious
âragrance of the Indian weed.
A signet ring or seal is carried by almost every person who
can afford itr This is generally of silver, worn upon the little
finger, or carried in the purse with the money. On this is en¬
graved the person's name, and in all written contracts i
stamped upon the paper as witness of the bargain, and is thus
substituted for the written name of the person. This use of
the seal is an ancient custom, dating back even anterior to the
Hebrews, and often alluded to in the word of God.
WOMEN AND THE VAIL.
Whatever may be said of the squalid condition of the
women we have before described, and the debasing influence
of their condition in life, the middle and higher classes com
mand far more respect. In huild and feature, they are often
models of heauty; in personal habits, tidy and circumspect.
The Egyptian girl is a woman at the age of nine or ten, and at
the age of fifteen or sixteen they have attained their highest
degree of perfection. Their complexion is much like that of
the men, varying, of course, by the degree of exposure to which
they are subjected. The face is generally oval, in some instances
quite broad. As they go vailed, a face is seldom seen. The
eyes are generally black, large, shining and expressive, and their
effect is much hightened by the concealment of the other por¬
tions of the face. The vail is as much revered among the wo¬
men as the turban among the men. This article of dress has a
date of high antiquity, for we read of it as long ago as the days
of Abraham, but it seems not to have been worn among the an-
dent Egyptians, if we may judge from their sculptured monu¬
ments. The upper part and back of the head are the first ob¬
jects of care, then the face. Most of them deem it more im¬
portant to conceal the face than other portions of the bod^.
If a poor woman has no vail, she will often lift the skirt of her
scanty dress and cover her face while the traveler is passing.
Of late, the constant presence of unvailed Frank women in
their cities, is already making some inroads upon this rigid cus¬
tom of the Egyptian ladies.
84
EGYPT AND SINAI.
The walking-dress of the genteel class is certainly unique,
and would much discomfit our modem belles, who go abroad
not only to see, but to be seen. With an nnormous white vail,
reaching from the top of the nose to the feet, the kead envel¬
oped in an immense shawl, and over all a large flowing robe of
black, they have much the appearance of immense walking
bundles of black silk, a good representation of which may be
seen in the accompanying engraving.
THE riEIiD or ZOAN.
But ■xrhile we have been looking at these mud villages, and
examining these strange costumes, we are coming in sight of a
portion of the country intimately connected with the sojourn
of the Hebrews in this land of their captivity. In one of the
Psalms it is said, "Marvelous things did he in the sight of
their fathers in the field of Zoan." Cast your eye over the
broad, green country upon our left, reaching away down to¬
wards the Mediterranean behind us, and stretching many miles
to the eastward, where it keeps up a continual warfare with the
encroaching sands of the desert. Here was Zoan,. called also
Goshen, one of the most productive portions of Egypt. It is
said to have received its name, Goshen, from the Arabic word
" gush," signifying a heart, or whatever is choice and precious.
The boundaries of the portion of the land thus designated, it is
impossible now to tell ; it must have been at least one hundred
miles in length, and probably about the same in breadth. In
addition to this fertile portion of the valley of the Hile, the Is¬
raelites probably occupied a wide range of the desert country
towards the Bed Sea and the land of Canaan, that during some
portions of the year might have afibrded pasture for their nu¬
merous flocks.
I
CHANGES THAT HAVE TAKEN PLACE
This part of tne country has undergone such changes during
the last three thousand years, it is diflB.cult to form a conception
of what it might have been at that remote period. That the
fertile land was much more extensive than now, is evident, as
there has been a great failure of the waters of tl\e eastern
ladies' walkino debss.
JAOOB'S VISIT TO EGYPT.
87
branch of the Nile. The main body of the river has oeer
crowding more and more to the westward, and the channels on
that side haVe deepened as the eastern have diminished. As
the Nile has gro^ less, there has been a continual augmenta¬
tion of the drift sand-hills along the plain, and much land, once
productive as a garden, is now a waste and cheerless desert.
This same encroachment of the sands is seen in other places in'
Egypt. Above Kosetl^, on the ^est bank of the Nile, palm
trees are now standing, fifty to sixty feet high, nearly buried in
the sand.
Here were Pharaoh's pasture grounds—^here the family of the
Hebrews found a home. As I strained lUy eyes to see even the
farthest portions of thé land, I recalled
THE STBANGE STOBT OF THEIB BONDAGE.
Jacob had hoped to live and die in Canaan. He came to
Hebron, and built there an altar and offered sacrifices to the
God of his fathers. In that cave upon the hill-side rested the
ashes of his noble sires, Isaac; there had been bu¬
ried iSarah, Bebêccà, and his own wife, Leah. A strange |train
of events called him away ftom his chosen home. As I looked
out in the direction of Hebron, I fancied I saw the venerable
old man on his journey to this land of strangers, impelled by
the famine behind, and drawn onward by the strong affection
of his heart for ah idoliEed son whom he had Imig before given
up as dead. How cheering and sustaining must have been that
promise of God, "I am the God of thy father. Fear not to go
down into Egypt, for I Will there make thee a great nation,
and Joseph shaU püt his känd upóñ thine eyes.*' Gen. xlvi. 3, 4.
How affecting that meeting between the old man and his
long-lost son ! Joseph made ready his chariot and went up to
meet him in Goshen ; "and he fell on his neck, and wept on his
neck a good while." "With What filial affection he watched over
the old man's infirm and trembling agei Nearly a centuïy and
a half the old man had boine the burdens and cares of a labo¬
rious and eventful life, and now he must die. He called his
ñiithful son Joseph, and e^cacted of him a promise, under the
solethnities of an oath, that he would bury him With his fathers
:88
EGYPT AND SINAI.
M the cave that is in the field of Macphelah before Mamre, in
the land of Canaan, which Abraham bought from Ephron the
Hittite. The reason he assigns is full of poetic beauty and
melting tenderness. " There they buried Abraham and Sarah
his wife; there they buried Isaac and Rebecca his wife, and
there I buried Leah." The last blessing was given, the last
expiring sigh escaped the cold, pale lips, " he gathered up his
feet into his bed and yielded up the ghost." Then it was that
the promise was fulfilled ; Joseph pui his hand upon his father^s
eyes and closed them in death ; then also he fell upon that ri^d
face, and wept upon it and kissed it. The body was embalmed;
the forty days of mourning were ended, and Joseph went up
out of Egypt with a great retinue of servants and nobles of the
land, and chariots and horses, redeemed his oath, and laid his
sire in the sepulchre of his fathers. How strange it seems to
be, looking out upon the land where these early and interest¬
ing incidents of sacred history transpired !
Such was the beginning of a strange record, the wonderful
events of which we shall recall as we stand upon the site of the
ancient court of Pharaoh, ride over the waters of the Red Sea,
travel in the wilderness, climb the mount of God, and traverse
the Holy Land.
THE DATS OF AUTEESITT.
Joseph lived one hundred and twenty years, and until he
saw the fourth generation of his children growing up around
him. His brethren prospered and multiplied exceedingly in
the land. At last Joseph died, and all his brethren, and all
that generation ; and now commenced the afflictions of his peo¬
ple. Our best friends are often succeeded by our bitterest ene¬
mies, and ingratitude becomes the reward of our best services.
Other kings arose, and Joseph and all his valuable services
were forgotten, and Israel's pleasant refuge was made a place
of bitter bondage. Their rapid increase was only the fulfill¬
ment of the promise of God, made hundreds of years before to
Abraham, that he would make of him a great nation, and his
leed should be as the stars of heaven for multitude; but this in
crease provoked the jealousy and aroused the fears of their re-
AFFLIOTICNS OF ISRAEL.
80
iters. The king said unto his people, "The children of Israel
arc more and mightier than we."
Then commenced a systematic course of oppression. They
set task-masters over them, and afflicted the'm with grievous
and heavy burdens ; they made them build great treasure cities
—^Pithom and Baamses ; they made their lives bitter with hard
bondage ; they made them work in fiçld and in city, and in all
manner of brick. How we are reminded of this as we pass
along! There is a compáüy of men engaged just as these Isra¬
elites were three thousand years ago—a pile of clay upon one
side, and a pile of straw, chopped and broken into small pieces,
upon the other ; the laborers are mixing the materials in due
proportion and with proper care, pressing the old-fashioned
"compound into the requisite shape, and laying the bricks in the
sun to dry—an old art handed down from remote ages, awaking
vivid remembrance of Israel's bondage and labor ; " they made
them work in mortar and. brick," and at last denied them straw,
and sent them gleaning about the fields, yet demanding the
full count of bricks. But all this rigorous oppression signally
failed of attaining the desired end, for the more they afflicted
them, the more they grew and multiplied.
Then came that cruel edict for the destruction of their chil¬
dren; and the earth, that had been watered with the sweat of
their toil, echoed with the lamentations of fathers and mothers
for the slain of their households. But there was an eye in
heaven to witness, an ear to hear, and a hand to record and
mete out justice. "For the oppression of the poor, for the
sighing of the needy, now will I arise, saith the Lord." And
the Loï'd did arise, as we shall have occasion to see in our visits
to other portions of the land. Oppression never prospers. He
who tramples upon human rights, sets his foot upon a Divine
creation, and the recoil will assuredly pierce the oppressor with
a fatal dart. The Lord did arise in a strange and mysterious
way; his people were delivered, their persecutors punished,
and the promises made to their ancestors hundreds of years
previous fulfilled.
"We have made our story long enough—we shall learn more as
"we proceed. Look out of the car window. "We are coming to
90
EGYPT AND SINAI.
a halt right in one of these Egyptian villages. Do yon see thaf
long, low line of water just by the side of us? It is
THE NILE.
The Nile! The Nile! Hotv it awakened the memory of a
thousand strange and interesting events ! Can the most stupid
and unimaginative gaze, upon it for the first time and feel no
rising of enthusiasm ? A river that has a place in history by
the side of the Euphrates and the Jordan; for thousands oi
years sending out a living flood from its mysterious and hidden
sources, rolling onward through this great valley, and emptying
itself, by its seven mouths, into the great blue sea; a river
which runs a thousand miles without receiving a single tribu¬
tary; a river which the Egyptians worshiped, and whose
waters by the rod of Moses were turned into blood ; a river the
great size of which astonished the Greeks and Romans, anc.
the annual overflow of which to them was a profound mysteiy>
a river the waters of which have been extolled by the Egyp¬
tians above all others—of which the Mussulman says, if Mo¬
hammed had tasted its Waters, he Would have prayed heaven
for a terrestrial immortality, that he might continue to enjoy it
forever. But, enthusiasm aside, let us look at these moving
waters, and learn something of this riveris
OHABAOTEa HlSTOBT.
Born among the mountains of the Moon, and cradled in the
depths of their mighty caverns, tearing its way through moun¬
tain barriers and granite rocks, dashing down cataracts, lashed
into foam by narrows and rapids, it at last reaches the calmer,
quiet life of the beautiftil plain, and goes singing onward amid
perpetual sunshine, scattering its blessings with a lavish hand,
until it is sepulohered in its great ocean tomb.
Egypt is a desert-girt land, and ranges of barren mountidns
lock it in. On the east are the deserts of Arabia. South and
west the vast expanse of the Lybian sands stretch away into
the unknown interior of Africa. These immense wastes of
sandy plains and rocky hills gather no clouds of moisture to
distill in fertilizing showers on the valleys of Egypt Rajo
WONDERS OP THE NILE.
91
«ornetimes falls in the immediate vicinity öf the Mediterranean,
bnt very seldom in other parts of the land. During the spring
and early summer season, the region of country south of 17",
about the sources of the ÎTile, are inundated with copious rains.
These waters are collected by the river and brought down as
by a mighty aqueduct to the plains below. Thus the fertility
of Egypt is made to depend entirely upon the waters of the "
!N"ile. What a strange provision the beneficent Creator has
thus made for them ! This result is accomplished by its
ANNUAL OVERFLOW.
The rise of the waters begin the latter part of June, or just
about the time of the summer solstice. The first indication is
a change in the appearance of the waters—they become red
and turbid. About the middle of July they burst the barrier
of shore and bankis, and spread themselves over the land, till
the country looks like a great inland sea, dotted here and there
by villages and towns. The latter part of September, the
waters begin to subside, and by the end of îiovember the banks
hold in check the swollen stream. The rise is about four
inches a day, and the decline at about the same rate. These
annual inundations leave a rich alluvial deposit, brought down
from the upper country, and from the fertile plains of Abys¬
sinia. The great heat of the climate, operating on these fertil¬
izing deposits, produces a most luxuriant vegetation.
It is said a rise of twenty-four feet in the time of Herodotus,
was considered sufficient to secure a fruitful season. The con¬
tinual deposit of the slime and mud for thousands of years has
considerably elevated the soil. A rise of thirty-three feet is
now said to be necessary to sufficiently inundate the land. In
1829, a rise of nearly forty feet produced great destruction
among the vUlages, both of lives and property. Passing
through this country as the waters are subsiding, you may still
tiave a striking illustration of
A BEAUTIFUL PASSAGE OF SCRIPTURE.
Upon a shallow pond of thick, muddy water, you may see a
tius'bandman casting handful after handful ot seed. "What a
92
EGYPT AND SINAI.
waste ! " you say. " Better feed it to his lean and famishing
cattle." Wait and see. The scattered seed mingles with the
dark, turbid waters, settles down, and is buried in the new,
rich strata of earth, and—"is lost! " No, no ! The warm sun
^shines upon it; it shoots up into healthy, vigorous growth, and
by and by the laborer comes with his sickle, and as he fills his
bosom with the golden sheaves, rejoicing in the abundance of
the harvest, he sings, " Cast thy bread upon the waters, and
thou shalt find it after many days."
But we must take our leave of the Nile. Flow on, thou
wonderful and naajestic stream! Thyself the same, what
changes thou hast seen ! Thebes, with its hundred gates, and
Memphis, with its temples and monuments, have perished upon
thy banks. Thou hast seen thy country the prey of Ethiopian
and Bersian, Macedonian and Boman, Saracen and Turk.
Thou hast been witness of the afflictions of Israel, and of the as¬
tounding miracles of their deliverance. Still, calm and undis¬
turbed, thy waters roll, and thou art now the witness how the
curse has settled down upon thy land. Degeneration has crept
over it, darkness has overshadowed it, and God has re-written
the sentence recorded in His Great Book by the hand of Eze-
kiel : " It shall be the basest of kingdoms, neither shall it exalt
itself any more among the nations. Her power shall come
down. * * * I will make the land waste and all that is
therein, by the hand of strangers. I the Lord have spoken it.'
ALTAB or BUBNT-OrrXBINa.
PYRAMIDS IK IHR DISTAKGS.
93
CHAPTER VII,
First View op the Pyramids—Arrival at Grand Cairo-
Sights and Scenes op the City.
OüR fiery steed bounds onward—over the Nile we go on a
beautiful stone bridge, the workmanship of which is not ex¬
celled in any part of the world. Now we are straining our
eyes to catch a first glimpse of the minarets of Cairo. See !
There they are ; and the walls and higher portions of thè cita¬
del can be distinguished. Now turn your eye to the right, and
look away across the plain yonder. Do you see two or three
dark looking objects rising up directly from the immense pla¬
teau ? They are the pyramids ! " The pyramids ! What, those
great haystacks? " Precisely such would be the first impression
upon almost every mind. Unconscious of the great distance
that intervenes, some fifteen to twenty miles, you see these
mighty wonders of the world, Cheops and Céphrenes, looking
»ike nothing else but a couple of great haystacks in a farmer's
meadow in a hazy autumn day. Eut distance here lends no
enchantment to the view. These impressions of diminutive-
ness will aU be dissipated when we come to stand by their side,
or climb their lofty summits.
arrival at cairo.
At 4 o'clock p. M. we came to a halt in the depot of Grand
Cairo. I knew my hotel, but had some anxieties as to how I
should reach it, for I dreaded to run the gauntlet of saucy don¬
key boys and importunate porters. Nerving myself for a spe¬
cial act in some lively scene, I landed on the platform, amid the
strangest crowd of human beings I had ever seen congregated.
There was the dignified Turkish official, with his great loose
sleeves ánd flowing robes, gold-hilted sword and turbaned head;
94
EGYPT AND SINAI.
half-naked donkey boys ; loathsome looking beggars ; wretched
women and squalid children. I had scarcely time to glance at
the odd looking crowd about me, when a man in English cos¬
tume and genuine English accent addressed me : " Shepherd's
hotel, sir?" " Yes, sir." " All right, omnibus just here ; take
yo,u right up, sir." In ten minutes I was snugly housed in a
good hotel, with European fixtures and comforts ail about me.
The house I found to be entirely under English management^
and much better kept than the one I have described at Aléxan-
dria. It is a spacious house, built in oriental style, with a large
open court and garden in the centre ; the terms, two dollars and/
fifty cents a day for room, board, lodging, lights, etc.
On being ushered into the dining-room, I was surprised to
find myself in the company of from fifty to sixty English and
American ladies and gentlemen. The table was set in home¬
like style ; both it and the victuals betokened the abode of civ¬
ilization. Familiar looking countenances were about me, a fa¬
miliar language was spoken, and had it not been for the long-
robed, swarthy-faced, turban-headed waiters, the Arabic words
they exchanged, and the occasional call, Achmed! Hassan!
Mohammed! there would have been nothing to remind me
that I was in the Orient.
THE OOMPANT I SAW THERE.
At one end of the table was a party of gentlemen and ladies,
ten in number, from Hew York, just returned &om a voyage
up the Hile; on the opposite side of the table was a party of
military gentlemen, from the United States ship-of-war Susque¬
hanna, then lying in the harbor at Alexandria. By my side
was an American gentleman, just returned from an excursion
up the Hile. The United States Vice Consul at Alexandria,
wishing to make the voyage, the Viceroy had kindly placed at
his disposal a small steamer he keeps upon these waters, in
which the jo.urney was performed, my informant acting as the
consul's secretary. He informed me there were at the present
time at least sixty boats with pleasure parties up the Hlle, of
which one half at least were Americans. But these pleasure
excursions arc not always attended with cloudless skies. AfBic-
AFFLICTIVE EVENTS.
96
tious and sorrows steal along life's rosiest paths. At the falls
above Thebes, a young gentleman from an English party in¬
sisted upon swimming the rapids, a feat sometimes performed
by the Arabs. All warnings were in vain, and even the at
tempt of the Arabs to hold him was resisted ; he leaped in,
and almost instantly disappeared in the foaming waters. When
the consul's boat left, they had been three days in an unsuc¬
cessful search for the body. A young lady of another party
was taken sick and died at Thebes. The warmth of the cli¬
mate compelled them to bury her there, and the sorrow-stricken
parents laid the loved form under the shadow of those gigantic
ruins to rest amid their solitude and silence.
Here also I met with a gentleman from Philadelphia, just ar¬
rived from Palestine, who gave me much valuable information
to aid me in my contemplated tour. He also gave me a graphic
account of the robbery of himself and friend by the MoaMte
Arabs, in his excursion to Jordan and the Dead Sea. They did
not fare quite as roughly as the man in the parable, for they
were not wounded and left half dead, but they were stripped
of their raiment, and left to make the best of their way back to
Jerusalem. I learned from this that eighteen hundred years
have not materially improved the road from Jerusalem to Jeri¬
cho, and I was admonished to be cautious when I made my visit
to those localities. I was surprised to find so many English
and American travelers here, and at once felt myself quite at
home. A night's rest and we will take a walk about the place.
THE HISTOBT OE THE CITY.
February Ihth. The land I left is now fast bound in the icy
fetters of winter. There the biting frosts, driving sleets and
drifting snows rule the changing year; here the glory and
beauty of summer are on the landscape. The sun is shining in
the heavens, and the birds are filling the groves with their
strange enchanting music. We were to have a walk about the
streets of Grand Cairo.
This is not one of the ancient cities of the land. Hoary
with age it would indeed be, by the side of our fresh American
towns, but by the side of Xamac, Thebes and Memphis, it is a
96
EGYPT AND SINAI.
mere child ; aijd in one sense, these old towns are its mothei,-
for they have poured in liberal contributions frona their ruins
to aid in its erection. It was founded by Aboo Tummln, a vic¬
torious conqueror, who invaded Egypt from Tunis about A. D.
970. It was called Misr El Kahira (victorious), which name, it
is said, the Italians corrupted into Cairo. The city is of an ir¬
regular form, about two miles in length, and a little more than
one in breadth, and is now surrounded by a substantial stone
wall, built by Saladin. The population is estimated at about
three hundred thousand. " But how," you ask, " can such a
number find a home on so small a territory?" Come here and
see how they live—how narrow their streets are—^how closely
their housea are packed together—how many of them live in
the streets. What a place it would be—has been—for plague
and pestilence to hold a carnival ! Take the road along this
shady avenue. This is
THE EZBEKIEH,
A public square, or city park, and is to Cairo what the
Champs Elysees is to Paris. It is a beautiful plat of ground,
checkered with walks, and covered with ornamental trees. Here
citizens of all classes congregate beneath the inviting shade;
here are numerous booths, stalls and drinking-houses, and every,
evening bands of music regale the listening ear. On the west
of this park is the palace of the late Mohammed Bey, in the
garden of which the unfortunate Kleber was assassinated ; on
another side of it are the houses of the Copt quarter, while
here and there«the ofBce of a consul or the front of a large
hotel is seen.
THE CLIMATE OT EGYPT.
They have but two seasons, spring, corresponding to our win¬
ter, and summer, lasting from April to November. During the
summer season, they have a beautiful, clear sky, but the weath¬
er is often so very oppressive they are compelled to resort to
every artifice to protect themselves from the scorching sun.
No country in the wj>rld presents 'a more salubrious climate
than Egypt during these spring months. Week after week,
A SALTJBIÍIOXJS CLIMATE.
97
days come and go, bringing a clear, cloudless sky and joyous
sunshine. The atmosphere is dry, the nights cool and invigor¬
ating. If you wish to leave your home for an excursion,
you have no fear of being drenched in a shower, and the only
use you have for an umbrella is to screen you from the rays of
tlie midday sun. Thus a large portion of the year is undescrih-
ahly pleasant. The evenings are enchanting. There is a sin¬
gular depth and hardness in the clear, blue sky that stretches
above you. The moon looks down from those ethereal depths
with unvailed splendor, robing the landscape with a bright and
silvery whiteness. Planets and constellations walk the sky in
dignity and majesty, looking out from their deep hiding places
like radiant gems of beauty and glory. N^o wonder the ancient
Egyptians were astronomers. They would have watched the
stars from the very love of looking into those enchanting blue
depths. But here we are in the
STKESTS or THE CITY.
Cairo is a pure Arab city. I am told they have no other city
in the world so unmixed and free from foreign adulterations as
this. The streets are numerous, narrow and crooked, there
being but one in the business part of the town wide enough
for carriages ; this is the Muskay, a great public thoroughfare,
having the enormous width of thirty-two feet; many Of the
others are not more than eight or ten feet. The houses are of
very peculiar construction; the upper stories projecting over
the lower ones, and the large, prominent windows, many of
them with elegant, carved lattice work, projectihg still beyond
the houses. Thus the windows of the upper stories are brought
so near together you could easily step from one into the other
These narrow streets and projecting rooms serve to protect the
inhabitants from the scorching rays of the sun during their
long, cloudless summers. But here are
THE BAZARS.
These are the principal market places, where ad sorts ot mer¬
chandise is bought and sold. The wordsis purely A.rabic, and
denotes sale or exchange. Some of these seem to extend along
7
98
EGYPT AND SINAI.
whole streets, often covered over by laying poles across fron
house to house, and spreading mats or reeds upon them. Dif¬
ferent portions of the bazars are appropriated to different
classes of goods. In one place, almonds, figs, and various kinds
of dried fruits; in another, cotton and woolen goods, beds and
cushions; here you will meet with a rOw of merchants who
can furnish you silk cord, gold lace and kindred articles; there,
otto of rose and^arious perfumes.
These bazars are usually very busy places, and are thronged
by multitudes of people. Through these narrow avenues there
is constantly flowing a mixed and motley multitude. Here are
camels, horses, donkeys, men, women and children, commin^ed
in strange confusion, while the noise and bustle, the pushing
and scrambling, the screaming and gesticulating, present a wild
and unique scene that can be no where witnessed but in an
Arabic city.
VARIETY or COSTUMES.
Amid the strange medley and wild confusion we have de¬
scribed, may be seen a great variety of oriental costumes.
Here turbaned heads predominate—the black one of the Copt,
the dark blue one of the Jew, the green and white of the Mos¬
lem, are mingled in strange variety. There moves a lordly
Turk, with all the dignity and gravity of his nation. There is
the swarthy-skinned, half-naked fellah, and the grandee, with his
rich, flowing robe of silk and lace—and one of these gentlemUQ,
in full costume, certainly presents*a very respectable appear
ance, though his dress is far more ornamental than convenient,
There is a bare-faced, half-dressed, toil-worn, country-woman,
with frightful looking tattooed lips, and by her side the digni¬
fied city matron, with long, close vail, all enveloped in an enor
mous loose robe of black silk. How you meet an elegant
Mamaluke dress of richly broidered cloth, and anon you are
peering into the wild, black, flashing eyes of a genuine Bedawin
just from the desert, with his head and shoulders enveloped in
a strange costume, half bonnet and half turban. The Frank
dress has become quife common here. I moved among these
LADIES RIDINO UPON DONKEY»
HOW THEY EIDE IK CAIKO.
101
varied costumes with my gray frock coat and tall .bell-crowned
hat without exciting any special attention.
THE STBANQE MODES OE BIDINO
At once attract the attention of the foreigner. Though the
streets are so narrow as to prevent the use of carriages, no one
goes on foot who can afford to ride. Occasionally, a horse may
be seen, and now and then a camel, bearing a bedawin or a fel¬
lah, almost blocking up the street, and pushing the crowd right
and left; but these large animals are not adapted to these
crowded thoroughfares. And now may be seen the great con¬
venience of the little Egyptian donkey, so small that the mass
of human beings have nothing to fear from him. He carries his
burden of living freight or merchandise, picking his way
through the crowd with all the gravity of a Turk, and precision
of a mathematician. Sometimes dashing along under a full
canter, you see him driving square against a woman with a
huge water-pot upon her head, and just as you look to see the
burden rolling in the dust from the force of the collision, the
cautious little animal is sure to miss the mark, and slip by
without even jostling the well poised burden.
The riding of the grandees and Turkish officials is an impos¬
ing ceremony, and calculated to impress the vulgar rabble with
the dignity of their station. On horseback, if it is a crowded
street, but most commonly in the vicinity of the Ezbekieh, or
suburbs of the town, where carriages can be used, the ceremo¬
nial parade takes place.
Visitors here a few years ago gave ludicrous descriptions of
the antique appearance of these carriages, which looked, it is
said, as though they might have been imported from some mu¬
seum of English or Erench antiquities. If so, recent inter-
eourse with European nations has done much to elevate the
standard of taste and improve the style, for I saw some fine
carriages, and more beautiful horses no one would wish to ride
after; but these are few in number, and usually belong to state
dignitaries.
When any of these officials wish to take an airing, or go
out on business, dressed in robes of state, chariot and steeds
102
EGYPT A^D SINAI,
richly capansoned, a liveried driver hold of the reins, and a
footman, with a long white skirt and great turban, behind, they
go rolling along with the dignity of á king. But what is most
peculiar, a runner in Turkish costume, beating a sword or staff
of state, runs constantly two or three rods before the carriage^
calling out for the way to be cleared, and thrusting any careless
loungers right and left as unceremoniously as though they were
so many swine. It is astonishing what speed and power of en¬
durance these runners have, keeping their distance before the
carriage even when the horses are in a fleet canter. The ladieif
usually ride the donkey ; the custom is to ride astride, and the
ample folds of their long vails and loose robes almost hide the
little animals from sight, as may be seen in the accompanyi|g
engrjiying.
THE SLAVE MARKET
"Was formerly a place of such novelty, and exhibited a varie*
ty of such strange scenes, as to attract the attention of visiton^v
This market, thanks to the reign of a humane policy, no lon¬
ger exists. Whatever may be thought of the importance' and
necessity of slavery in more civilized portions of the worldjj
Egypt, dark and barbarous as it may be, has thought best to
dispense with it. Said Pasha, the present Viceroy, put a stop
to the unnatural traffic in human flesh. No more persons are
sold into bondage, and a system of measures has been insti¬
tuted by which involuntary bondage will ultimately cease in
the land.
THINGS IN THE CITY.
Cairo has a few substantial houses, well built, and compara¬
tively clean and comfortable ; but the most of the city is one
vast mass of dirt and rubbish. The narrow streets we have
described, are so crooked you can scarcely see ten rods in any
direction. On these narrow, crooked streets, the shops and
bazars are located. These shops are little dens or cubby holes
in the sides of the buildings—little recesses, from four to eight
feet deep, without windows; they are closed with a kind of fold¬
ing doors, occupying the whole front, which are thrown open
A STREET IN CAIRO.
WOMEN OF THE LOWEB CLASSES AND
MOD» OF CARRYING CHILDREN
OÜKIOUS CUSTOMS.
105
during trade hours, and here the occupants sit, sell, trade, work
iud carry on almost every conceivable kind of business.
In one of these places you see a dry goods merchant, with
ail his stock stored in a little space not more than six or eight
fest square. The floor is elevated one or two steps above the
street, and the tradesman sits behind a little bench or counter,
thit serves also as a kind of barricade to keep him in and all
ithers out. There you will see a blacksmith with his bellows,
anv^l and a whole kit of tools in about the same space, himself
sitting cross-legged in the dirt, working away with as much
complacency and contentment as though he were lord of a lo¬
comotive factory; then a money-changer, with his little board
of coin, a pair of , scales to weigh his gold and silver, and au
iron safe that nearly fills his whole room ; next a scribe, with
his table, pen, ink and paper, ready to exercise his professional
abilities on any contract his neighbors may call for.
Of course, people are not expected to come into these shops,
They stand at the open front, and all the business is done it
the streets. Every one sits down; the merchant sits at his
shop-board, the mechanic at his work. It would be too labo¬
rious a business for this indolent people to stand up. It is
amusing to see what ingenuity they exercise in getting every
thing—merchandise, tools and materials—within their reach,
that they may not be under the necessity of Changing their
position.
Besides the shop-merchants, large numbers of men, women
and boys parade themselves along the narrow streets with
baskets of dates, lemons, oranges and other kinds of fruit and
vegetables. The swarming multitudes of the city seem to live
almost entirely in the streets. The shops I have described,
apparently form the outside or rear part of their dwellings.
Passing in at some narrow opening, you will find an open court,
around which the rooms of their dwelling-houses are arranged.
These are sometimes large, airy and clean; but the greater
part of their houses are mere mud walls of unburnt bricks,
most of them two and three stories high, with fiat roofs. The
people are compelled to do almost entirely without boards or
f
lumber of any kind. Their floors are stone or clay, and having
106
EGTFT AND SINAI
no wooden ceilings for the protection of the walls, they ajfl
constantly crumbling and scattering their dirt every wheie,
Nor does this seem at all to discommode the people. The low¬
er or ground floor of their houses is seldom occupied. Nearly
all the families live up stairs. The lower parts of the houses
are given up to camels, donkeys, chickens, dogs and fleas.
"We have before spoken of the miserable mode of life among
the villagers. The poor of this great metropolis seem to fare no
better; they sit in the dirt during the day, and lie down amid
filth, dirt and fleas during the night. Egypt has many attrac¬
tions, in its fine climate, the fertility of its soil, and more than
all, in its monuments and historic associations ; but the charao
ter of its inhabitants is the negative pole of the magnet, that
repels rather than attracts. Strange, that this beautiful coun¬
try, so green and fertile, bringing forth almost spontaneously
all that human nature can crave, should be given up to the
possession of so miserable and worthless a race of people. But
while absorbed in these strange sights and scenes, the attention
js suddenly arrested by the sound of music. A crowd of peo¬
ple are approaching. Stand a few moments under the shelter
of this doorway and you will see
A MARRIAGE PROCESSION.
The preliminaries, which are many, have all been arranged,
the contract completed, the dower paid, and now they are con¬
ducting the bride with great pomp and ceremony to her future
homo, where the bridegroom is waiting for her. These proces¬
sions are differently formed to suit the taste of the parties, and
the wealth and display is graded by the ability of the parties
to defray the expense. The bride is generally preceded by
some of her married friends, who are enveloped from head to
foot in the great black silk robe before described. She walks
under a canopy of silk, generally of some bright, gay color,
carried by four men, by means of a pole at each corner. It is
completely closed up on three sides but open in front. It is
said she is generally richly dressed, but her rich clothing and
jewehy are all concealed, for she is completely covered from
head to foot, generally with a great cashmere shawl, so that no
SCENES IN CAIRO.
107
pait jf her person can be seen. Two female friends walk with
her under the canopy, one upon each side, while the procession
is headed by a band of music—flutes, pipes, -tambourines, and
sometimes a kind of Arabic drum, beaten with the hands. The
harmony of this music is terrible, and is sometimes accompa¬
nied by singing, clapping of hands, and various other strange
demonstrations. Sometimes wrestlers and swordsmen go be¬
fore, and entertain the crowd with various gymnastic feats and
mock battles. For the sake of display, the procession general¬
ly takes a circuitous route, traversing several prominent streets
of the city. The bride wears a sort of paper crown, and if
wealthy, a costly circlet of diamonds and gold may be seen
over the cumbrous muffling of silk and cashmere that envel¬
ops her. Connected with these processions, may often be seen
another pompous display. It is the celebration of the
BITE OF CIBCUMCISION.
IBetween the music and the bridal canopy, a richly capari¬
soned horse carries a small boy, most gaily bedecked with gold
and silver tinsel and jewelry. His hair is elaborately plaited,
and sparkles with golden coins and gems. He carries in one
hand a richly embroidered handkerchief, which most of the
time he holds to his face, while two male relatives walk one on
each side to support him. Other members of the family and
friends join in the procession. This display and parading of
children in connection with marriage processions, is resorted to
by poorer families, who have not the means of gratifying their
pride by creating a sufficiently pompous procession in any other
way.
This rite of circumcision has continued in practice amang all
the Arab tribes since the days of their great progenitor, Abra¬
ham, from whom it was received. The law enjoining it was
re-enacted by Mohammed, and is one of the indispensable cer¬
emonies of his religion. Children here are generally circum¬
cised at the age of about five or six years, and among the
wealthy classes the performance of the rite is often attended
by a splendid display of wealth and ceremony, little inferior to
those of wedding occasions.
108
EGYPT AND SINAI.
la these bridal processions, especially among the wealth),
many strange and often astonishing feats are performed. Thers
seems to be a great desire, on the part of the family, to make
the occasion a memorable and distinguished one; therefore,
any one who can perform some extraordinary feat for the
amusement of the spectators, is not only welcomed to the
crowd, but is often rewarded with a handsome present. Lane
mentions two noted incidents he says he had from eye wit¬
nesses :
"When the Seyyid Omar, chief of the descendants of the
Prophet, made a marriage for his daughter, a young man walked
in front of the procession, who had made an incision in his
abdomen, and drawn out a portion of his intestines, which he
carried before him on a silver tray. The procession over, he
restored them to their proper place, and kept his bed many
days before he recovered from this foolish and disgusting act.
On the same occasion, another man ran a sword through hia
arm, for the amusement of a crowd of spectators. In this po¬
sition he left the sword for a long time, until several handker¬
chiefs were soaked in the blood.
The same author was also an eye witness of a herculean task
of a water-carrier, a common feat, and often witnessed. One
of these water-carriers, for the sake of a present, and the fame
he acquires, carries a water-skin filled with sand and water, of
a greater weight and for a longer period than any one else will
consent to do. This must he accomplished without ever laying
down the load, or even sitting down, except in a crouching po¬
sition, with the burden still upon the back. In the case he wit¬
nessed, the carrier took up his burden, à skin of sand and water
weighing about two hundred pounds, bore it the whole night,
and all the ensuing day, before and during the procession, and
did not lay it down until sunset of the second day—thus having
Dome it without intermission for twenty-four hours.
These processions can he seen almost every day, and some¬
times two or three a day, in the streets of the city. Passing
one on one occasion in the Ezhekieh, they halted near me, and
I stepped close to them to witness the performance. A young
man, stoutly built, and shabbily dressed, was the harlequin of the
A FiíNEHAti PUOCK88IOH
BUKIALOFTHBDEAD. Ill
occasion. He threw himself into a sort of trance, eyes closed,
and apparently indifferent to all about him. In this condition
he commenced a series of striking gymnastic exercises. Keep¬
ing time to the music, he threw his arms, legs and body into all
sorts of attitudes, sometimes ludicrous, and sometimes graceful.
As he proceeded, the main part of the procession gathered in a
circle about him, and watched his absurd gesticulations with
the utmost apparent satisfaction. He detained the procession
about fifteen minutes. The strange exhibition over, he was
greeted with shouts of applause, and the procession moved on
to find another performer. But now the scene changes ;
A FUNERAL PROCESSION
Comes treading closely upon the heels of the bridal throng,
and the wailings of anguish succeed the songs of mirth. Thus
changeful and varied are the scenes of life. The ceremonies
connected with death and burial among the Egyptians, to us
seem strange indeed. The victim must die with his face to¬
wards Mecca. "While the death-rattle is yet in his throat, he is
turned in that direction, and as the spirit takes its flight amid
loud bursts of lamentation from wives and childreii, an attend¬
ant exclaims : " Allah 1 There is no strength nor power hut
:n God. To God we belong, and to him we must return. God
have m.ercy on him !" The shroud of the poor man is a piece
or two of cotton cloth. Any color may be used but blue.
Why this is interdicted in death, when it is so generally worn
in life, I do not know. The colors generally used are white
and green.
The preliminaries completed, the solemn procession is formed.
The corpse of a small child is often borne in a tray upon the
head of a woman; older persons, upon the shoulders of two or
more men, as may be necessary. The adornments of corpse^
hearse and bearers vary, of course, according to wealth and po¬
sition; sometimes, in case of a rich man, three or four camels
are marched at the head of the procession, laden with bread
and water, to be distributed among the poor at the tomb. It
is considered very meritorious to take part in a funeral proces¬
sion, and aid in carrying the bier. The most imposing part ot
112 EGYPT AND SINAI.
thés« ceramonies are the wild lamentations th;«t rend the air
The mouining of relatives on such occasions may be heartfelt
and sincere, for the ties of affection and kindred bind as strong¬
ly, and the lacerated heart of the bereft bleeds as freely in
Moslem as in Christian lands, but the procession is generally
accompanied by a number of professional wailing women, hired
for the occasion. Sometimes you will hear in a low, deep mon¬
otone: "There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his
prophet." Then again these women may be seen wrin^ng
their hands, and with disheveled hair, shrieking at the top of
their voices. To the stranger, there is something at first pecu¬
liarly solemn and impressive in these low chants and piercing
wails. It, however, soon becomes so monotonous, and has so
much of the appearance of a mere mechanical performance, as
to beget disgust.
But we have walked and gazed till feet and eyes are weary.
Let us return to our hotel, and rest ourselves under the shade
of those great trees. Sit down here upon the terrace and look
about you. There are a great variety of entertainments here,
and now we are going to have
A STRANGE SHOW.
There comes a man with a tarboosh on his head, feet and
legs bare, a ragged old sash binding his dirty shirt close around
the waist, converting the loose folds of the bosom into a great
pocket. What do you think he has got in there? He walks
up with the air and assurance of a practiced performer, as much
as to say, " Sir, I can show you a thing." Firat, he pulls out a
greasy, filthy-looking bag, unties the string that holds the
mouth, thrusts in his hand and pulls out a large knotted mass
mf living vipers. He rolls them over, and tumbles them round,
as though they were as soft to the touch and as harmless in
their nature as a bundle of velvet ribbons. Having displayed
his ingenuity in entangling them still more, by winding their
slimy bodies around each other, and tucking their venomotih^
heads over, through and under, he tosses the writhing mass
upon the ground. Each serpent form, with demon eyes and
forked tongue, writhes and twists in horid evolutions to disen
A SEBPSNT GHABMER.
118
tangle himself from the gordian mass ; and soon each separate
viper is seen pushing his scalj form this way apd that, to make
Lis escape.
The operator keeps his eye upon them, claps his bare foot
upon one here, seizes another by the head there, and tosses
them back into the ring, playing with them like a child with his
toys. "Is that all?" This is only the first act. "With this brood
of small serpents around him, he put his hand again into his
bosom, and drew out—my blood curdled at the horrid sight—
an enormous cobra capello, or hooded snake, four or five feet
long, and cast him among the snialler ones. This is a serpent
of the most venomous kind, found in all hot countries. He
tossed the little reptiles on to him, and pinched his back to
irritate him, when the enraged monster, after the fashion of his
species, raised a foot or two of his body, so as to appear to
stand erect, spread out and flattened the sides of his neck and
head in the form of a hood, which ^ves him his name, and
struck at his tormentor with all the fury of his venomous na¬
ture. "Whether he had extracted Ms fangs, or was proof
against them, I do not know. Having amused himself in this
way for near half an hour, he tucked the slimy serpent back
into his naked bosom, gathered up his little snakes, rolled and
tied them into knots, thrust them into his bag, and laid them
away by the side of their larger brother. " And had he done ? "
Done with the snakes, but not with you. Do you think he was
so kind-hearted as to spend that .whole half hour merely for
your gratiflcation? Turning his tarboosh into a contribution
box, he passes amopg the crowd with the air of one who had
performed a valuable service, calling for a backsheesh. "And
how," I hear one inquiring, "did you enjoy the performance?"
I sat through the first exhibition, partly from the strange char¬
acter of the show, and partly spell-bound by the horror it ex¬
cited. But I could never endure the sight again, and always
afterwards left when the fellow came to repeat the perform¬
ance, as he was sure to do each succeeding day.
It may not be one of the pleasantest things in the world to
have snakes thus thrust upon one's attention, yet snakes have
occupied a place in history from the time the serpent appeared
8
114
EGYPT AND SINAI.
m the garden. The world is full of them, more varied and nu¬
merous than most persons suppose. There may be miiny a
man who would turn with disgust from this serpent-charnu^
that may still be harboring a more venomous brood in his own
breast. Our Savior found himself in the midst of a generataon
of vipers. Better shun them all, whether they walk erect or
crawl in the dust—those that tempt and those that bite—^those
that writhe and hiss, and those that lie in secret places—^the
serpent of discord, the worm of the still, and the worm that
dieth not.
But we have seen enough for to-day. To-morrow we will
make an excursion to the pyramids. This will occupy the day,
and the plan must be arranged to-night. I remember how
that dragoman cheated me at Alexandria; now I will turn
dragoman myself, and see what I can do. Give me a donkey
boy that can talk English, and I will manage all the rest. I
stepped on to the platform of the hotel, and immediately had
an audience of more than a dozen donkey hoys. I engaged in
conversation with them on the merits of their respective ani¬
mals, and soon selected my hoy, who could not only talk very
good English, but whose donkey he declared "hab English
name; he name Lily Bob." "And what will you ask to take
me to the pyramids ? " " Two and sixpence, sah ; me go all day
for two and sixpence." This was the common price, Englirfi
money, not including the backsheesh. "Very well ; be here in
the morning at 8 o'clock." And now I hear you inquire:
" What do you mean by
"the backsheesh?"
If you will only wait till you get among the Arabs, you will
soon Igarn. It is an omnipresent word, and ever rings in the
ear of the traveler, from his first landing in Egypt till his final
leave of Syria. It means a gift or gratuity, something over
and above one's just deserts. When one has performed a ser¬
vice for you, if he has done it faithfully and well, he not only
■expects the compensation agreed upon, but he also expects a
•backsheesh, or a small gratuity, by way of present Servants
.and laborers all look for it; scores of loungers ss,vd I'angers-vG
MEANING OF BACKSHEESH.
115
are coustiintly watching for an opportunity to lift a finger for
you, that they may claim a backsheesh ; multitudes of beggars
swarm around you continually, supplicating for a backsheesh ;
abject locking men and women, in supplicating tones, crave it;
children run after you and clamor for it. I had often heard
before I left home, it was a common word in Egypt and Syria,
but I had formed no conception of the immensity of its use.
All travelers of all tribes and tongues hear it and learn it, and
it will become incorporated into every living language.
Our plan for to-morrow is formed, but now an unexpected
obstacle arises. A party of English and Americans have just
come in, in great excitement, with a frightful account of their
treatment by the Arabs in charge of tlie pyramids, representing
them as a rapacious, mercenary set, ready to extort every possi¬
ble farthing from the visitor. They had a quarrel with them
on account of the enormous backsheesh demanded; one of them
had struck an Arab with his walking-stick, and it was with dif¬
ficulty, according to their own account, they had escaped from
their insolent usage. .Here was a perplexity. Is it safe for me
to venture, alone and unprotected, among these lawless men ?
It is eight or nine miles distant, upon the borders of the desert,
far away from the protection of civil authority—shall I go?
I am much at a loss to know what to do. I will retire and
deep over it, and see what the morrow will bring forth.
116
EGYPT AND BINAX.
CHAPTER VIII.
Visit to the Great Ptrami® of Cheops—^Thb SPHYNX-*'Iïr<a
DENTS AND REFLECTIONS.
February 15íA, The morning dawned bright and beantifnl,
as all the mornings of this unifdrin spring climate do. The
perplexing q^uestion of last evening was Still unsettled. Shall
I go to the pyramids ? I debated with inyself the ijUéstí:on, for
I was inclined td go. "Shall I take ñiy revdlver along to
defend myself if I am threatened ? " Ô, ho ! Ï have no idea of
shooting a man. "But, then," something whispered, "if it be¬
comes necessary, you might just ftigh'ten him a little." "But^
if I have arms," said I, "I might, in a moment of excite¬
ment, do what calm reiflection would condemn, and, perhaps,
what I might ever after regret." "Well, then," the same voice
whispered, " take your unloaded revolver, with dnly caps, tO
make a show of defense.^' "And thén I should be more rea^
to point it at an opponent, and, seeing what he would supposé
a deadly weapon at his breast, he might be instigated to some
desperate act himself." Such was the colloquy that, with the
lightning track of thought, went through my mind. ' Peace
principles triumphed. "I'll go the pyramids," said I, "go
alone, go unarmed, trusting to common sense, the common
generous impulses of the human heart, a common overruling
Providence, and a—^liberal backsheesh to help me through."
Hassan ! bring up the donkey." ■ And now for
THE TBXOKS OF A DONKET BOT.
Hassan was older than most boys of his profession, full
gcown, well built, of fine countenance, light complexioned, but
with a clear, deep, snaky looking eye. Moreover, he was
learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, so far> at least, as
OLD THINGS AND PLACES.
117
trioks iipou travelers are conçerned. My aimble beast was
800U upon a full canter, when looking over my shoulder, I saw
Hassan, instead of running behind me with his driving stick,
coming astride of a second donkey. What Hasseln, are you
going to take a donkey too ? " Yes, misser, long way—too,
long for all walk." "Do yoiji expect me to pay for your
donkey ? " " Why," hesitating, and looking somewhat con¬
fused, "gemmen he pay both two donkeys." "I agreed to
give you a half crown and siicpence backshee^ to take me
there and back. That is all you will get. You may f^ke ns
many donkeys as you please," This decision, and the firmness
with which it was uttered, fell like a wet blanket upon the fire
of his zeal. Hallooing to one of Ms çempanions, he surren¬
dered his donkey, and in sulky mood followed pn behind me.
Three miles brought us to Old Cairo, an old town upon the.
banks of the Nile, founded upon the site of the old Egyptian
Babylon. It is two or three hundred yearn older than Grand
Cairo. The new city absorbed its business, and it is now a
miserable, dirty, dilapidated place, perishing under the shadow
of its great rival. Still there are some places here,
that well repay a visit. Here are the ruins of the old Homan
fortress, besieged and taken by the Moslem invaders, The
remains of the solid walls and great tQwers ai'O yot standing,
and in one place, under a pedimCUt« loay Still be seen the
Homan eagle. This fortress has now become a Christian village,
and is dedicated to St. George, the patron saint of the Copts,
There are also three convents here. One is occupied by the
Catholic Armenians and Syrian Maronites, another by the
Copts, a third by the Greeks, In this Greek convent you are
shown a room in which it is said the Virgin and the child
Jesus had their abode during their sojurn in Egypt! Here,
too, are some veiy ancient structures, said to have been built
by Joseph, and used for treasure houses, in which corn was
stored for the days of famine! In the pld Homan fortress
alluded to, in an upper chamber over one of the towers, is an
ancient Christian record, sculptured on wood, in the time of
Diocletian. It is a well preserved and curious device. The
upper part of the frieze has a Greek inscription, and belpvy
118
EGYPT AND SINAI.
is a representation of the Deity sitting on a globe, snpportea
by two angels ; on either side of which is a procession of six
figures, evidently 'the twelve apostles.
J ust upon the opposite bank lies Gizeh, fipom which these
pj'ramids are named, with a ferry at the upper end of the
town. As we approached this, Hassan, who had been quite
silent during our three miles' ride, again approached me. " Got
change to pay de boat ? " " Yes, how much will it be ? " ße-
• ducing English currency to federal money, as I shall generally
do—"Eifty cents, sah. Gib you me de money; I make de
bargain for de boat; I know 'ein best." "Fifty cents! It
costs no fifty cents to get ferried over the Hile." " How much
you pay ? " " Don't know," said 1. "All de gemmen he pay
fifty." " I don't believe a word of it," said I. Hassan walked
a few rods in silence. "You gib me twenty-five cents I make
de bargain for boat." "I shall not pay the half of twenty-five,
and I choose to make my own bargains." The deceitful rascai
knew that I could not understand Arabic, and he had calcu¬
lated upon making a few dimes out of me by the ferriage.
By this time we were on the river bank. Ho skill of words
could portray the scene that ensued. It is a great thorough¬
fare, and hundreds of people throng the landing place; numer-
0Û3 boats of all sizes were waiting for freight; donkeys and
their riders, camels with their huge burdens, horses and horse¬
men, ragged men and women, and squalling, dirty children,
were mingled together on the shore, or crowded into the open,
antique looking boats, in close proximity and strange confusion.
Hassan, sulky from the disappointment of making forty
cents out of me on the ferriage, seemed disposed to take me at
my word, and leave me to make my own bargain. We were
-»soon surrounded by a wall of saucy, insolent boatmen, who
seemed disposed to take us by force. One seized the little
donkey, and commenced dragging him towards his boat;
another pulled at Hassan, and others turned their attention to
me. I saw they were governed by no law, and in the absence
of police regulations, I was compelled to assume command.
Using my umbrella for a weapon, I cleared a space about
myself and donkey, and with threatening attitude, kgpt them at
REFLECIIONS ON THE NILE.
119
a respectful distance. Glancing upon the crowd, I selected one
whose appearance pleased me, took out an English sixpence,
held it up to him and pointed to his hoat. He seized the
money, then laid hold of the donkey and beckoned us forward,
and I supposed the cojitest was ended. Hassan now for the
first time interfered, and declared the man's boat was too small
to take donkey in. " He fall in de river, he do." I believed
he was lying to me, for I saw him exchanging words with
another boatman, and mistrusted a connivance for some selfish
purpose.
• How came another contest. The man with the larger boat
seized the arm of the one who still had the money in his
fingers, and held him like a vice. He clung to the money with
a deathly grasp, and refused to give it up. Again I had to
assume a tone of authority and defiance. Seizing the obstinate
fellow with one hand, I raised my umbrella in warlike attitude
over his head with the other, and demanded the coin. The
fellow, seeing my hostile attitude, yielded without a motion of
resistance. Boatman number two, with an air of triumph,
pocketed the change, literally pushed and lifted Lily Bob into
his boat, and we were.
AFLOAT UPOX THE XILE.
I at once forgot the perplexities of bargaining with boatmen,
in the strange sensations that came over me. The river here is
broad and shallow. Our boatman spread his rude lateen sail,
that he might take advantage of both wind and current, and as
the waters came rippling against our boat, they seemed speak¬
ing to me of the strange events of by-gone days. And this
particular place, of all others, seemed calculated to awaken
remembrances of the past. As we gained the current of the
river, our boat floated directly down upon Eoda, a beautiful
little island, whose grassy banks and shady groves have long
been the resort of pleasure parties from Cairo. On tjiis island
^ands the celebrated Kilometer. This is a square room or
chamber, built of stone, in the centre of which is a graduated
stone pillar. By a scale upon this pillar, the daily rise of the
Kile is ascertained. This is proclaimed every day during the
120
EGYPT AND SINAI.
innndation, iu the streets of Cairo, by four criers, specially ap
pointed for the purpose. The pillar contains a scale of twenty^'
four cubits of twenty-one and sevett-eigbteenth inches each^
Twenty cubits is a good rise, and the promise of an abundan*,
harvest ; twenty-four would be destructive to life and property,
ÎTo wonder, then, that the rise of these waters is watched with
intense interest by the inhabitants. By this island, also,
tradition fixes the place of the exposure of
THE INEANT MOSES.
This, to me, was of more interest than all the rest, and the
story of this great leader and law-giver in Israel was fresh in
my mind. With what crushing weight that edict of an arbi¬
trary and persecuting ruler, that doomed their children to
death, must have fallen upon the hearts of the mothers in
Israel! What an hour of deep, agonizing trial was that,
when a daughter of Levi, under the pressure of that cruel
decree, took an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime
and pitch, and put the child therein, and laid it in the flags by
the river's brink I How vividly the picture passed before my
mind, as I thought I could see the Hebrew mother, swayed by
the conflicting emotions of hope and fear, wrestling with God,
in the earnest struggle of a holy faith, that he would open a
way for the salvation of her child ! And I almost fancied I
caught glimpses of that faithful sister Miriam, half concealed
aming the shrubbery of the bank, as she watched with anxious
solicitude the fate of her infant brother! But an eye that
watched with more untiring vigilance, and a hand that could
direct a mother's plans and a prince's steps, was there ! It
was a wonderful beginning of a strange and eventful life ! Is
it possible, I mused, that I am standing so near the scene of
these remarkable events? Ate these the waters that went
ripphng by the ark of the infant Moses, and over which he
afterwar^p stretched his wonder-working rod, transforming
them into a terrific torrent of blood ? How plainly the han^
of God Was seen in these wonderful events!
How we are approaching the opposite shore. I watched the
boatman in the collection of his tolls, for Î was curious to knot»
ABAB CHÁBA0TEBISTICÍ9.
121
how mucli the natives paid—'probably not qaore than one cent ;
bat Frank travelers are free plunder, and every one that comes
in oontafCt with' them expects to make it pay. And yet these
natives, so rude and lawless, so vehement in language and vio¬
lent in gesticulation, are not a quarrelsome people. A single
threatening motion from the hand of a Frank will overawe a
dozen of them, and even if they get a blow from a superior,
they will seldom resent it. They have far more knavery than
courage, while deceit and falsehood are bred in the warp and
woven in with the very filling of their nature. Landing from
the boat, we were in Gizeh, an old, dilapidated town, the mis¬
erable wreck of what it once was. In the days of the Mama-
Inkes, it was fortified and adorned with mosques; but fortifica¬
tions and mosques are now crumbling heaps of dirt and stones.
Here, if the traveler chooses, he can visit
ÏBE aSNOWNSn CHICKEN OVENS.
From the time of the Pharaohs, even down to the present,
Egypt has been noted for the multitude of chickens hatched by ar¬
tificial heat. The eggs are stowed by thousands into great ovens ;
the heat graduated to a degree corresponding to the warmth of
the parent hen, and in due time, though eggs are close things, the
chickens do come out. This artificial mode of producing chick¬
ens seems to be a purely Egyptian notion. The business is
principally conducted by the Copts, and is still carried on in
both Upper and Lower Egypt, the proprietors paying a tax to
the government for the privilege. The eggs are placed in the
large ovens upon mats or straw, tier above tier. A building
containing &om twelve to twenty-four ovens is called a maamal,
and receives at one time about one hundred and fifty thousand
eggs. In 1831, an official report for the government gave, in
Lower Egypt alone, one hundred and five of these establish¬
ments, using up annually over nineteen millions of eggs, of
which about six millions were spoiled, and from the balance
a^out thirteen millions of chickens produced ! Thus saving more
than a million and a half of hens the arduous task of three
%
weeks' patient, self-denying incubation, and relieving them from
122
EGYPT AND SINAI.
more than twice that amount of time in the anxicns, toilsome
labor of rearing their broodff!
Passing along these streets, large quantities of oranges, dates
and other fruits, with bread and vegetables, were exposed for
sale. I had taken a lunch for myself, intending to dine on the
top of Cheops. " Hassan," said I, " did you bring any thing
along to ¿at ? " " Ho, sah." Handing him three piasterâ, " Here,
buy me three or four oranges, and get some bread and oranges
for yourself." He took the money, looked at it a moment, and
with a contemptuous toss of the head pushed it back towards
me : " Shaw ! couldn't buy any thing with dat." " Yery well,"
said I, carelessly ; " no matter," and put it back into lúy pocket
Again he looked disappointed. I knew it was twice as much
as was necessary, but as he expected to pocket all the change,
he was calculating I would increase the amount.
We were passing the last of the market stands, and a few
minutes would end the chance of making a purchase. Hassan
sidled up to me, and in a subdued tone said : " Please, sah, gib
de money, I buy de oranges." I handed him a single piaster.
He looked at it contemptuously, turned it in his hand, and was
about to speak. " That or nothing," said I, sternly. He started
for a stand, brought me four oranges, tucked four into his own
bosom, bought bread enough for his dinner, and I saw the
huckster hand him back several paras change. The truth is,
these fellows are so much accustomed to make something from
travelers at every turn and every trade, their rapacity is never
satisfied.
We had now a ride of four or five miles to make across the
open plain, the huge pyramids all the time in sight, but still so
far distant one could form no just conception of their size. In¬
deed, the general impression of travelers, as they approach them,
at first, is one of disappointment, but they should suspend their
judgment till they have ascended their rugged sides. "We passed
two or three Arab villages on our way. The same appearance
of indolence and haggard poverty is every where apparent
Lazy, lounging men, lying about upon the groqpd; uncouth
females, sitting in graceless attitudes, their little ones rolling in
the dirt about them. A dozen wolfish dogs, with bristled hair
APPROACH TO THE PYRAMIDS.
123
•ud savage howl, were sure to herald our approach, while a troop
of half-naked boys and girls would run after us, calling out in
boisterous tones, How-ad-ge (traveler), how-ad-ge, backsheesh,
backsheesh!
THE DONKEY BOY AOAIN.
As we# neared the place, the persevering Hassan made an¬
other attempt to sponge something out of me, by the most
solemn assurances that he understood dealing with the Arabs
at the pyramids, and if I would give him the money he could
make an advantageous bargain with them. After the unsuc¬
cessful attempts of the boy at the ferry and the buying of
the oranges, I admired both his perseverance and his impu¬
dence, and though I thought they deserved a reward, I re¬
pulsed him rather rudely, telling him I chose to make my
own bargains. '
We now come to the boundary line, where the rich vegetation
of the valley and the barren, changing sands of the desert, side
by side, keep up a continual warfare. So marked was the line,
it was but a step from one to the other. The gray forms of
those great sepulchral monuments now lay just before us.
Their huge proportions seemed rapidly to increase as we neared
them. At a distance, they appear perfectly smooth and pointed
at the top ; as you approach them, they assume a more ragged
outline, and the top of the largest one appears a little flattened.
They stand upon a rocky eminence, their base elevated about
one hundred and fifty feet above the plain, just at the foot of
the range of hills, behind which lies the vast ocean of sands
constituting the great Lybian desert.
We had forty or fifty rods of the desert to pass. My little
donkey sank to his fetlocks in the sand, and moved with so
much difficulty I dismounted, gave the reins to Hassan, and
walked on. " Please, sah, gemmen he always give donkey boy
sixpence, for buy he grass for he donkey." I did n't believe a
word of it, but having no disposition for a dispute about the
small sum, I handed him a dime, though I knew a penny would
^ V •
buy all the grass he wanted. He turned round, and walked
back towards the luxuriant growth of vegetation we had passed
124
EGYPT AND SINAI.
I glanced back occasionally, to see the result of his care for bu
donkey. He loitered till I was a few rods ahead, then turnad
and brought up his creature without a particle of the comforti,
and put the money, as I supposed he would, into his exchequif^
to increase the aggregate of his da^s wages. The eventfiiJ
ride was over, and I stood at
THE BASE or CHEOPS.
Before we commence an examination of these wonders of the
world, let us look a moment at their history. There are five
groups of these pyramids, numbering in all about forty. They
are all in middle Egypt, extending up and down the valley for
eight or ten miles. Most of them are comparatively small,
while a few of them have such gigantic proportions as to justly
entitle them to a place among the wonders of the world. They
all stand upon the brow of the hills opening back into the great
Lybian desert. The three most noted of these groupé, are
Dashoor, Sakkara and Gizeh, the ones before which we are
now standing. Hear the pyramids of Sakkara are the
IBIS MUMMT PITS.
Here large numbers of these sacred birds have been most
carefully preserved—embalmed, sepulchered and honored with
religious, yet superstitious care and reverence. Hear them
are also mummies of snakes, sheep, oxen and other anhnals.
These were gods of the ancient Egyptians, and having no im¬
mortality of life, the attempts of their votaries to perpetuate
their e^stence after death have proved a signal failure, for moat
of the stone pots in which they have been so carefully placed,
on being opened, are found to contain only a handful of dust
Between the pyramids of Sakkara and. Abooser is a great
APIS OEMETEBT.
Here the embalmed bodies of their sacred bulls, after having
received divine honors, were interred in great pomp and state.
Here are long underground passages hewn in the rocks, on the
sides of which are deep recesses, each containing a large gran¬
ite sarcophagus. These are nearly thirteen feet long, between
TOP OP THE GREAT PYRAMID.
TOMBS OF DEITIES.
125
«even and eight) broad, and of proportionate hight. Here also
«rere found inscriptions afllxed to the walls, containing an ac¬
count of the successive bulls, and the names of the kings in
whose reigns they received divine honors. The remains of
these gods have all been removed.
Before leaving home, I saw in Dr. Abbot's museum of Egyp
tian antiquities in Hew York, the bodies of three of these
"Apis Osiris" divinities. These are the only ones that have
been removed from Egypt. They are large sized animals, in a
recumbent posture, saturated with embalming spices, bound
around the body, head and horns, with many folds of mummy
cloth, the whole well secured with numerous coils of well pre¬
served rope. The ancient Egyptians honored these sacred
bulls as an image of the soul of Osiris. When one died, the
soul was supposed to migrate into the body of his successor.
In looking upon these putrid, loathsome carcasses, I could but
exclaim: "Is that a body in which a god might dwell?" I
thought of what the Apostle Paul says of depraved men, who,
professing to be wise, become fools, and "changed the glory of
the incorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible
man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts and creeping things.''
The most renowned of all these pyramidal structures are the
ones now before us.
THE FTBAMIDS OF OIZEH.
They are three in number, one is quite small ; of the othex
two, one is called Cephrenes, the other Cheops, from the two
kings by whom they are supposed to have been built. Cheops
IS the larger of the two, and to this one we will turn our atten¬
tion, making a description of one suffice for all the rest. Of its
rast size, one does not at first, even when he stands by its side,
form any adequate conception. Standing, as it does, upon its
firm foundation of native limestone rock, amid the perpetual
sterility of bleak and barren sands, without tree or house or
hill with which to compare it, there is seen no standard by
which to test its magnitude. The figures of its present dimeu
sions are easily given: Its present base is, each side, 732 feet;
perpendicular hight, 456 feet; the angle of the sides is about
126
EGÎPT AND SINAI.
52®. But this is not its original size. The vandal hands <rf the
Caliphs were laid upon it, the granite casement that constituted
the smooth exterior torn off, and layer a^r layer of the huge
limestone blocks removed to build the palaces and mosques of
*
Grand Cairo. They seem to have quaaried from it with as little
reverence for its magnificence and antiquity as though it had
been only a bed of native stone in the hiU-side. Colonel How
ard Vyse makes an estimate of its former size and hlght ae
follows: Original base, each side, 764 feet; hight, 480 feet 9
inches. It covered an area of about 571,536 square feet. The
solid contents have been calculated 85,000,000 of cubic feet; and
that there is space enough in this mass of masonry, were it de¬
voted to the purpose, for 3,700 rooms of the size of the king'f
chamber found within. At present, the ba^ covers an area of
nearly thirteen acres, formerly about thirteen and a half acres.
Still one may read these figures again and again, and form uo
just eonception of the immense magnitude of the structure.
It is only when we begin to calculate and make comparison
with other bights and structures, that we can at all appreciate
the mountain mass of stone that lies before us.
Let the farmer or any one who is accustomed to measure
land, or estimate the size of lots, lay off in his mind a square
piece of ground containing thirteen acres; and many a man
who has thirteen acres thinks he has quite a farm. Let him
ima^ne this great field all covered over with huge blocks of
stone laid closely side by side. Then be^n and pile layer upon
layer, drawing in each successive tier a little, as he does his
sheaves in finishing his grain stacks. On you go, piling them
higher and higher, till you reach the tops of the tallest forest
trees, and you have only, as it were, laid the foundation. Stone
is added to stone—^you have overtopped Bunker Hill Monu¬
ment—^you have reached the Mghtof the gold-tipped spires
of the tallest- church steepiles in our largest cities, and yet the
altitude of your cloud-towering pile is not half completed!
Eighty feet makes a very tall tree, and yet six such trees stand¬
ing one upon the other would only measure the bight of this
enormous structure as it was left by the hand of those who
reared it!
A GIGANIIC LABOE.
127
Herodotus, who visited Egypt 455 B. C., gives us some ac¬
count of the herculean labor here performed. The stones were
brought from the mountains on the opposite side of the valley
of the Nile. The first work was a causeway or road over
wliich these stones could be transported. Ten years, he says,
one hundred thousand men were employed in this part of th®
work. After the building of the road came the leveling of the
rocky hill, the cutting out of the subterranean chambers, and
\he elevation of the enormous masses of stone. This occupied
ihree hundred and sixty thousand men twenty years longer !
The first layer of stones were easily put in their places. The
second were elevated by the aid of machines, or derricks. Thus,
as the bight of the mass progressed, there were a series of
broad steps corresponding to the number of layers of stone.
Thus these machines were planted along the ascent, and the
stones elevated from step to step. The apex reached, and the
last limestone layer of the pinnacle in its place, triangular
blocks of granite were fitted into these successive series of steps,
beginning at the top and working downwards, leaving con¬
stantly a smooth surface above the workmen as they descended.
Such is the structure we have come to examine, and which
now stands before us in all its huge proportions. What an im¬
mense labor ! What countless years of human toil ! What a
story of crushing despotism and hard-handed slavish servitude !
But they were built, and here they stand, and here they have
stood for thousands of years, defying the storms of the desert
and the lightnings of heaven; looking down.in proud contempt
upon the fiercer conflicts of human passion, as conquering na¬
tions have come to deluge with blood, and heap with carnage,
those beautiful plains above which they lift their lofty heads !
MEETING WITH THE ARABS.
•
I had scarcely taken a survey of the great structure, when at
least a dozen sturdy Arabs, with loose trowsers and short robes,
suddenly made their appearance. I gave them a friendly salu¬
tation, speaking in English, to which one of them, apparently
for himself and company, responded. "Want to go up de
pyramid?" said one of them, in very good English. '«Well, I
9
128
EGYPT AND SINAI.
do n't know yet what I shall want." "Take you up, take you
inside, all round, good." "How much you ask?" said 1.
" He's de sheik," pointing to one of the best looking among
the crowd, who stood erect, holding the folds of his old striped
blanket about him with all the dignity of a Roman senator;
" he's de sheik, he make de bargains." I turned to him with a
deferential air: "Have you charge of this place, sir?" "I am
sheik here, sir ; you want to go up to de top ? " " Don't know ;
wha^" you ask to take me up ? " "Five shillings" (one dollar
and twenty-five cents). " Five shillings ! Ho, no 1 too much, too
much!" " How much you tink ? " " Some who came here yes¬
terday only paid two shillings." " Dey berry had men," said
jhe sheik, shaking his head. "We take em up, dey no pay us.
Dey strike one my men. Berry had men, berry bad." I ques¬
tioned him a little farther about their conduct, and was satisfied
the visitors had themselves behaved very rudely, and refused to
pay a fair compensation, and while they came home with such
reports of the savage Arabs, I found they had left behind them
no very high estimate of their gentility or generosity.
"Five shillings," said I again, "is too much." "How much
you tink?" said the eheik. Murray's guide-book says four
shillings (one dollar) is enough. "All de gemmens pay five
shillings. Dat is de price. We hab all one price." "Veiy
well, you have a good looking set of men here. These all youi
men ? " " Yes, all good, all help." " Good looking men," con¬
tinued I. " I think you mean to do right." I saw I w^as win¬
ning upon his good opinion. "All good," said the sheik.
"Five shillings?" said I again. "Five shillings," said the
sheik. "Five shillings and no backsheesh?" said I, inquiring¬
ly. "Ho backsheesh," said the sheik. This was an important
point. "Yery well, take me up, ôrinff me down"—I was care¬
ful to put this in, for sometimes, if the bargain is made carelessly,
they will take the traveler to the top, and then refuse to help
l.im down without extra pay, saying they only agreed to take
him up. "Take me up and bring me down, and take me inside
and all around, and I will give five shillings, and no backsheesh."
" Tieb, tieb ! " said the sheik. " Tieb, tieb ! " responded the men.
That is, good, good ! or, in Y'ankee phrase, all right ! " How, I
CLIMBING THE PTKAMIDS.
129
want two men and no more to go with me." Sometimes three
or four will hang around a traveler, and then clamor for a back¬
sheesh. " I want only two men, good ones," said I to the shiek.
" All good, which you please ?" I glanced round the company,
Sxed my eye on two good natured looking fellows, one of whom
Iiirtl frequently put in some very good English while I was
talking with the sheik. " I'll have that man and that one."
"Tieb!" And the two started out and led the way to the
southeast corner of the structure, apparently pleased at being
thus honored. And now for
IHE ASCENT OV CHEOPS.
The removal of layer after layer of stones from the outside
of the structure, of which we have before spoken, has reduced
It to the condition of an immense stairway. In some places
the stones have been taken out to a much greater depth than
others, giving it a ragged and uneven appearance. These steps
are from two to three feet high, corresponding to the thickness
of the original layers of stone. Of these layers or tiers of stone
there are two hundred and six. The ascent is not difficult, but
quite fatiguing, especially if one attempts to hurry. Agile per¬
sons, accustomed to climbing, have been known to ascend to
the top in eight to ten minutes, but the time usually occupied
is from fifteen minqtes to half an hour. My guides were anx¬
ious to impress me with the importance of their services, but I
refused their hands and commenced the ascent alone, one run¬
ning before me, the other behind. I found it indeed a giant
stairway. The strides were long and fatiguing. Having
reached an ascent of fifty or sixty feet, and gained a broad plat¬
form in one corner of the structure, I stopped to rest. My
guides were very communicative, and we chatted together in
great glee. Another ascent of about the same distance, and
another rest. I looked out at this hight upon the broad plain
that stretched away before me ; there was something exhilara¬
ting in the air, and in the scene, and I shouted with my Arab
companions in boyish glee. By this time I was quite out of
breath, and was glad to avail myself of the assistance of my
swarthy companions. One took my right hand, the other my
130
EGYPT AND SINAI.
left, and stepping before me up the rocks, pulled me after tbens
On we went with great rapidity, they almost literally lifting
me from step to step.
AN ABAB SONG.
As we got well under way, they broke out into a kind of a
wild, extemporaneous song, a strange mixture of Arabic and
English, highly complimentary and suggestive—^the closing
stanza winding up as follows :
Ya ah, ya ah, ya a ha !
Away, away, and up we go;
American gentleman berry good man.
Give us bachsheesh, ya ah hat
Yankee doodle dandy I
Thus up, and up, and up we went, occasionally stopping to
rest, questioning and being questioned. I made quite free with
my assistants, praised their skill and agility, and they in turn
had compliments in broken English for America and American
gentleman. On we went, occasionally their song breaking out
in wild animation, sometimes with the variation of
" Jack and Gill went up the hill."
I found they were quite well posted in American literature
and had I been an Englishman, I have no doubt but that they
would have sung " God save the Queen " with equal grace. 1
saw they were fully as anxious to please me as I was them,
though our motives might have been very different; I was
thinking of my personal safety, they, of the backsheesh. At
last we were on the summit! A few mgments rest and I began
to look about me, pondering on the strangeness of my location,
observing the magnitude of the stones, and the numerous
names in many languages carved upon them.
The barbarian Caliphs that laid their ruinous hands on Ihu
noble structure, and quarried from its capacious sides, have not
spared even the pinnacle of the enormous edifice. From thirty
to fifty feet of its top has been torn away, and you are sur¬
prised to find that what from the ground looked like a point
high in the air, too small for a man to stand upon, is a broad
base or platform, thirty-two feet across. I was surprised at
ON THE TOI OF THE fJfRAMIDS. 131
the magaitude of the stones even at this great hight—^two to
three feet thick and several feet long. What an ii&iuense labor
it must have been to elevate such masses of stone to such a vast
distance from the ground!
REFLECTIONS UPON THE TOP OP CHEOPS.
Once upon the summit, I gave myself up to the emotions and
the enthusiasm the place was calculated to awaken and inspire
First, like Moses from the top of Pisgah, I took a survey of the
land, that, like a great panorama, lay in its variety and beauty
at my feet. There was the green valley of the ííile, stretching
away up and down as far as the eye could reach, opening its
fertile bosom to the beautiful heavens, welcoming the floods of
golden sunlight that came streaming down from a cloudless
sky. Along the line of the valley could be traced for many
miles the majestic and wonderful river, winding, like a great
serpent, its voluminous folds in strength and dignity as it rolled
onward to its ocean home. Away yonder in the distance were
the Arabian hills, skirting the barren desert that lay in bleak
sterility beyond. Nearer by, the Mokuttam hills and the quar¬
ries of Masarah, from whence the mountain uf stone upon
which I was standing had been chiseled, and the eye could
trace the long, laborious distance over which the great cause¬
way was built upon which these stones were transported.
Nearer by, an attractive spot upon the landscape, was the great
city. Grand Cairo, its walls, its great, gray, towering citadel, its
mosques and multitude of minarets. Around my feet, and
away to the south and west, was the vast expanse of the Lybian
desert, presenting in its sullen and gloomy sterility a striking
fontrast with the fertile valley that bloomed by its side. Then
r turned and looked down upon the battle-field where Bona¬
parte, with thirty thousand men, met Murad Bey, where the
memorable " Battle of the Pyramids " was fought, where Bo¬
naparte inspired his men with valor by pointing to these mon¬
uments, exclaiming : " Forty centuries are looking down upon
you from those mighty structures ! " The thunder of the battle
«eased, the smoke cleared away, thousands were left dead upon
the field, and the tñumphant Bonaparte camped within the
132
EGYPT AND SINAI.
walls of Cairo. I could scarce persuade myself that those
green fields, now so smiling and beautiful, had been the tJ¿eatre
of such scenes of carnage.
Then History came and lifted the gates of memory, and
, opened long vistas through the winding and intricate mazes of
the past. I saw the wandering tribes from Shinar emigratiag
to these fertile vales. Here, shut in by sea and desert, they
could pursue their peaceful avocations. In their settled habit*
ations, industry became a necessity, and of industry art and
science were born. My imagination re-peopled their cities, re¬
built their ruined temples and altars, and I saw Egypt in her
pomp and pride, splendor and glory. As I gazed, a change
came over the vision of the valley, clouds gathered upon hei
glory, and beneath the devastating hand of ruin, her magnifi¬
cence and splendor faded away. Alas ! how changed, how fall¬
en ! "Who cannot read upon her ruined cities, crumbling tem¬
ples and plundered tombs, the handwriting of God? "Who
cannot read, deeply traced in unmistakable lines upon all
around him, the fulfillment of the ancient prophetic declara¬
tions : " The sword shall come upon Egypt, and they shall take
away her multitude, and her foundations shall be broken
down ; " " They also that uphold Egypt shall fall, and the pride
of her power shall come down, * * * and they shall be
desolate in the midst of the countries that are desolate, and hei
cities shall be in the midst of the cities that are wasted " ? Eze-
kiel XXX.
A BOTTLE BOY.
My reflections were suddenly broken by a little, ragged urchin,
a genuine sappling/if Arab stock, who thrust an Egyptian pot¬
tery bottle into my face. ""Water, sab? Water? Nile water,
good water, sweet water. Got him right out de Hile." It was
not the first time I had seen the little scamp. He started with
us upon our ascent, bottle in hand, and most persistently per-
served in offering me water every time I stopped.to take breath,
though I repelled him several times with absolute rudeness. It
w as certainly kind of the little barbarian thus to remember me,
t tiough I could not resist the impression that he was thinking
A TllAVKLEK'S EEGISTEE.
133
Qot SO much of my comfort as of a backsheesh. I was not
thirsty, but his interruption had the effect to recall my wander¬
ing thoughts and arouse me to the necessity of finish'ng my
errand. 1 realized the strangeness of my position, yet I had
made friends with my swarthy attendants, and felt quite at ease
with them.
Cheops'is a traveler's register, and many a visitor has inocribed
his name upon the summit. The mania for this kind of im¬
mortality seems not to have been confined to actual visitors,
"When Chateaubriand was in Egypt in 1806, not being able to
visit the pyramids, he says : " I requested M. Gaffe, on the first
opportunity, to inscribe my name, according to custom, on these
prodigious tombs; for I like to fulfil all the little duties ot^a
pious traveler." One of my attendants, anxious to make him¬
self useful, smoothed with his rude knife a place upon one of
the rocks, and I added my name to the many who have here
" fulfilled the pious duty." liothing now remained preparatory
to a descent, but to have
A DINNER UPON THE TOP OP CHEOPS.
I had arranged to bring my lunch with me, and now spread
the cloth with due ceremony. It was not altogether a solitary
meal. My two attendants were close at hand, with expectant
looks, and the bottle boy felt called upon to exercise himself in
the duties of his vocation with unremitting attention. They
shared with me; and not to be outdone in generous hospitality,
one of them opened the loose folds of his shirt bosom, and
drew out a small package of cotton cloth, that looked as though
it had been dipped in a mud-puddle, and dried in a coal smoke,
and unrolling several folds, brought out a Jarge piece of goat's
milk cheese, beautifully striped inside and out, commended its
excellence, and invited me to partake. Its party colors of deep
gray and dirty yellow were prima facia evidence of'its unrefined
manufacture, and anxious as I was to reciprocate every friendly
office, I was under the painful necessity of politely declining to
partake, fearing he "would rob himself." The repast Was
over; my associates were in good humor; the bottle boy had
induced me to drink, and aware that he had gained an import-
134
EGYPT AND SINAI
ant advantage in his siege on my copper coin, his coiintenanec
wore a more cheerful aspect. îiow came the decisive time for
a direct and open assault, which, I have no doubt, my cicerones
contemplated from the start, and for which they had cunningly
prepared the way in the extemporaneous songs to the music of
which we had kept time in our ascent. Laying aside all reserve,
they openly broached the question, and without any circumlocu¬
tion or figure of speech asked me for a backsheesh.
I had settled the question in my own mind before hand, not¬
withstanding my bargain with the sheik, that my attendants
should have an extra fee; but not wishing to appear too willing,
for sometime I evaded a direct answer. At last I said: " Why,
I am to pay the sheik; I suppose you get your share of it?
How do you manage that?" "I tell you," says one : "We be
thirty men, all here to wait on de traveler. He, de sheik."
"Who appoints the sheik?" said I. "De Pasha." "So the Pasha
keeps you here to take care of the place and help travelers?"
" Y es." " And who gets the money ? " continued I. " Well, de
Pasha he get some first, den de sheik he get some, den de rest
he divide mong us all—so many no get much pay ; gib us back¬
sheesh, won't you?" "Well, you are two right good fellows,"
said I ; "you helped me up all right. How you help me down,
take me inside, show me all around, and I will give you a back¬
sheesh." "How much you gib?" "I give you one shilling
(twenty-five cents) each." "O gib us more." "Ho, that's
enough." "You gib him now?" "Hot a single para till we
get through," said I, firmly, " then you shall have him sure."
"You wait till we get down, den de sheik he see; he take him
all away, no gib us noting." "I'll take care of that; I'll see
the sheik don't know it." This was satisfactory, and we were
ready for
THE DESCENT.
I found the descent much more difficult and dangerous than
the ascent, for there was constant danger of pitching headfore¬
most down the awful declivity. Here, again, these treacherous
Arabs often take the advantage of the timid traveler; for some
persons, looking down from the fearful bights, become so dizzy
A PALL PKOM CHEOPS. 135
\
ihey are completely at the mercy of their guides. A day or
two after my visit, they extorted from one man about eight dol¬
lars before they would consent to help him any farther. On
his return to Cairo, he made complaint to the governor, the
money was recovered, and the guilty parties punished.
My guides, in this perilous position, seemed anxious to im¬
press me with the importance of their services, and as we
looked down the giddy stairway one of them said : " What if
we let you fall?" "But you will not let me fall," said 1, con¬
fidently, as I tightly clasped their hands. "Did any one ever
fall her«? " "Yes, one man he fall. He stingy. Ho pay for de
guide. He fall down, down, down, way to de bottom. Smash
him all in little pieces." I suppose this was their version of the
story of an English officer, who, some years since, on his way
home from India, visited this place. He ascended in company
with a friend to the top, and was walking around near the edge
of the upper tier of stones, when he suddenly fell. The atten¬
tion of his friend was immediately arrested, he saw him roll
down several steps, and as he caught for a moment, his friend
met his upturned, imploring gaze. It is described as horrible
beyond all description. He caught and hung but for a moment
on this narrow stairway, then pitching headforemost over and
over he rolled, never stopping till he had reached the bottom.
Every bone in his body was broken, and he was literally
pounded to a mass of jelly. It was supposed from subsequent
developments the act was intentional.
VISIT TO THE IXTERIOB.
Our descent, thanks to kind Providence, was made in safety.
As we approached the base, my guides led the way to the open¬
ing that conducts to the interior. This entrance is on the north
side, and about fifty feet above the base. It is certainly a low,
miserable doorway for so magnificent a structure ; but who ex¬
pects any but a dark and dreary passage to the tomb ?—for such
8 the place to which this opening leads—a tomb hidden in the
most stupendous pile of stones the skill and labor of man ever
erected. >
For an understanding of the strange construction of the in-
136 EGYPT AND SINAI.
ner rooms and passages of this mighty receptacle of the dead,
the annexed diagram will do more than whole pages of de¬
scription :
A section of the Great Pyramid of Cheops, showing the Interior
Passages and Chambers.
No. 1. Entrance on tlie north side. 2. Forced entrance to the passage leading
ti the king's chamber. 3. The \rell. 4. Continuation of passage in the rocK
ander ground. 5. Queen's chamber. 6. Grand gallery. 7. King's chamber. 8.
Entresols or chambers above. More particular explanations are given in the text.
Thè shaded part of the drawing represents the native bed of
limestone rock upon which the pyramid is built. "We will now
enter at N^o. 1, following the passages through, describing
them as we go. The entrance is a low one, and we have to
stoop nearly double. Death humbles all who visit his domin¬
ions. The masonry over this entrance is worthy of notice
Two huge blocks resting against each other form a pent-roof
arch. The design of this is supposed to be to take off the su¬
perincumbent weight of the stones above. We had entered
but a few feet when we found ourselves involved in darkness
It was rather a strange sensation that came over me, as I stood
in this dark, lone passage to the sepulchre of tlie dead, with
only two reckless, for aught I knew, treacherous Arabs for my
companions, whose only desire was to get as large a Dack-
sheesh out of me as possible. We had entered but a few feei
INTEBIOR OP THE PYRAMID.
137
vhen the last glimmering ray of light from the narrow open¬
ing died away.
We stopped in the darkness of the passage, and one of the
guides said to me, in a tone somewhat of surprise, as though we
had met an unexpected diflSculty : " Did you bring any candles
with you?" I had posted myself with regard to all the tricks
of these wily fellows, and had learned that one of them was,
when they got into the interior, to suddenly extinguish the can¬
dles, and refuse to light them without a backsheesh. So I had
put into my pocket some matches, and two or three small wax
tapers, about as large as a pipe-stem, with which I knew I
could find my way out, and thus bring them to terms, if they
attempted to desert me. I immediately drew one out and lit it.
,At first, they looked a little perplexed, then they set up a laugh,
and made sport of my puny little candle. Declaring it "no
good," they drew from their pockets' a couple of pieces of large
sized sperm candles, and having lighted them, we started down
the narrow, dismal passage.
We went down this inclined pathway, at an angle of 27°,
about eighty feet, till we came to îio. 2. Here your attention
is arrested by the marks of violence upon the stone work of the
interior. Those who opened the way to these inner chambers,.
here found the upward passage closed by an immense granite
stone, that had evidently been fitted in from above. This stone
they could not move, so they forced a passage around it. Con¬
tinuing the descent down the same inclined paäfeage a few feet
farther, you come to where it is cut in the solid rock. Descend¬
ing still two hundred and twenty-five feet from Ho. 2 to 4, you
come to the lower mouth of what is called the well, a crooked
passage leading upward. You still continue downward till
you strike a horizontal passage, and when fifty-three feet from
Ho. 4, you stand in an open subterranean chamber, cut out of
the solid rock. From this chamber a small, un finished passage
extends fifty-two feet farther—the object of which is unknown
Beneath this room there is also a deep well or pit, which has
been excavated to the dejtth of thirty-six feet, but nothing of
interest was found. In this chamber you are one hundred and
five feet below the base of the pyramid. Herodotus mentions a
138
EGYPT AND SÍNAI.
subterranean canal, by which the water of the Nile was brongni
into these deep underground apartments, but no traces of any
such canal has been discovered.
Returning now to No. 2, we take the ascending passage.
The angle of this is the same as the other, 27®, and all these
passages run due north and south. Ascending a short dirtance,
the low, narrow passage along which you make your way, sud¬
denly expands near No. 3 into a large, majestic hall, called the
" Grand Gallery." Just as you enter this, another low passage
branches off in a horizontal direction, leading to what is*called
the queen's chamber. This chamber is smaller than the one
above it, and is directly in the center or under the apex of the
pyramid. The passage leading to this chamber is less thw
four feet high, and only three feet five inchos wide. Here you
are seventy-two feet above the level of the ground, four hun¬
dred and eight feet below the original summit, and seventy-one
feet below the floor of the king's chamber. Returning again
to No. 3, just where the passage branches off to the queen's
chamber, you find the mouth of the well, which descends in a
zigzag course to the subterranean passage. No. 4. Here also
you see how the upward passage at this point has formerly been
closed by four huge portcullises of granite, sliding in grooves
of the same kind of stone. These ponderous gateways closed
and concealed the upward entrance. These obstacles have now
been removed, and you may continue your ascent upward along
the grand gallery. No. 6, until you enter No. 7,
THE KING'S OBAMBEB.
This is the grand apartment, and, no doubt, the great sepul¬
chral room of this astonishing structure. The length of this
chamber is thirty-four feet four inches; the breadth, seventeen
feet seven inches; the hight, nineteen feet two inches. The
upper ceiling is fiat, composed of huge blocks of granite, laid
across from wall to wall ; the sides are also cased with granite
slabs, finely polished, and the joints very closely fitted together.
Immediately over this chamber are several smaller ones. No. 8.
The ascent to them is by means of small holes cut into the wall
at the southeast corner of the great gallery. These rooms ari.
NTERIOR OP THE PYRAMID. 139
>oIy three or four feet high, and their only use seems to be to
relieve the roof of the king's chamber from the heavy pressure
of stone that vs^ould otherwise rest upon it from above. In
these small chambers are found the only inscriptions that have
yet been discovered in any part of this great edifice. These
are hieroglyphics painted on the stones with red ocher. They
were evidently written upon the blocks before they were laid
in their places, for some of them are turned upside down, and
in soçie the inscriptions are partly covered by the other stones
about them. These inscriptions settle a question that has
sometimes been disputed; they prove that the hieroglyphics are
older than the pyramids. Among them is found the name of
Cheops, after whom this pyramid is named, and by whom it
is supposed to have been built.
THE AGE OE THE PYBAMIDS
Has also been a disputed question, and some have assigned
to them an astonishing antiquity. Dr. Seyffarth, who has be¬
stowed almost a lifetime upon Egyptian antiquities, and who
reads the hieroglyphics with great facility, gives us some new
and interesting facts about names and dates. Lepsius placed
the building of the pyramids before the flood! Manetho, as
some interpret him, assigns to some of these monuments an
antiquity completely astounding, giving us a line of kings and
a series of events reaching over more than thirty-six thousand
years from the creation to the Christian era ! How then, it has
been asked, can the Mosaic record be true ? Some of the con¬
clusions reached by Seyffarth in his investigations, and for
whiôh he finds good authority, are as follows : That the ante¬
diluvians had a written language, and were acquainted in as¬
tronomy, with the present zodiac, and that the knowledge of
these were transmitted by Hoah to his posterity ; that all the
languages in the world were derived from the Hebrew, the
original language, as can be proved from the names and forms
of the letters of different ancient alphabets, and from the lanr
guage of the ancient Egyptians; that Hoah re-arranged tho
original alphabet, causing the letters to correspond to the plan
140
EGYPT AÄÜ SINAI.
etary configuration of the zodiac at the time of the delug»;
thus incontrovertibly fixing the time of its occurrence.
These planetary configurations found upon the interior of
tombs, the walls of temples and other monuments, are among the
wonderful discoveries that have recently been brought to light.
It consisted in recording the date of an important event, as, for
instance, the ^dedication of a temple, the reign or death of a
king, by simply tracing upon the walls of the temple, or over
the figure of the king, or on the sarcophagus, the positiqp the
constellations and planets occupied in the zodiac at that partic¬
ular juncture; and as every astronomer knows, so slow are the
revolutions of those fixed stars, they have occupied such posi¬
tion but once since the creation, and will not occupy such posi¬
tion again for thousands of years to come ; and any one accus¬
tomed to calculate the movements of these bodies can teU pre¬
cisely the date of any such given configuration. A few years
since. Dr. Seyffarth lectured upon Egyptian antiquities in St
Louis, Missouri ; Professor Mitchell, one of the most celebrated
astronomers of the day, was present. He heard the Doctor
state that he found on an Egyptian sarcophagus in the London
museum a planetry diagram, by which he knew the burial took
place in the fall of 1722 B. C. Professor Mitchell, on returning
nome, commenced aa astronomical calculation, and made a di¬
agram of the position of the stars for the autumnal equinox
of 1722 B. C. Doctor Seyffarth received it, compared it with
the one upon the Egyptian sarcophagus, and found that the po¬
sition of the heavenly bodies in the two corresponded in every
particular !
But to go on with his enumerations : That more or less of the
original revelations were preserved among all ancient nations,
and that the true God was for a long time worshiped, but that
the worship of inferior creatures ultimately relapsed into total
idolatry; in confirmation of which, he gives us extracts from
ancient papyrus rolls, taken from the oldest tombs of Egypt,
containing the ancient sacred books of the Egyptians, abound¬
ing in such passages as the following—a tranáation from an
old papyrus roll taken from an ancient tomb and now in a muse¬
um at Turin. Title : " This is the book of prayers for the praise
KELIQION AND ÜHEONOLOGT. 141
of the Lord Lord, who has resolved to create servants serving
the eternal counselor, the creator of all things." Selections:
"There is a Most-Holy one, a creator of the fullness of tht
earth, a ruler of days. I am the God of gods, the exalted
maker of the planets, and of the hosts which are praising me
above thy head, and the creator of the exalted race of the
mighty princes and governors; (I) who sit in judgment; the
Most-Holy one who condemns the wicked." " I am myself the
worl^ the judge of every deed ; myself the light (i. e. the sun)
that convicts the evil doer ; myself the king, the preserver of
the laws of Egypt, who dwell at On, the City of the Sun." " I am
the light, the son of the primeval light ; I dwell in the exalted
land of light, and was born in the land of light (with me there
is no night)." "The government is mine, who am the Lord,
who have made my arm, my right arm, to be dreaded; the
Most-Holy one, who hath trampled under foot the abode of the
wicked; who hath destroyed (in the deluge) the polluted race
of the world; who hath made the ehildren of the deceiver,
(Satan,) and the insolent of the habitation of wickedness upon
the earth, to tremble." These are a few extracts :Ô'om many
translations made by him, showing the doetrines of these an¬
cient religious books of the Egyptians, taught more than four
thousand years ago—light breaking from the ancient tombs!
Doctor Seyfiarth further shows that these sacred books, and the
knowledge of the early history of our race, were known among
all the nations of antiquity, and were the source of the tradi
tions of creation, the fall of man, the flood, etc., that are now
found scattered among thp diflerent races of men over th-e face
of the whole earth, even where the Bible has been unknown.
He also proves by fourteen of these planetary conflgurations,
found upon diflerent monuments, that Menes did not take pos¬
session of Egypt until 2781 B. C., during the life of Phaleg,
six hundred and sixty-six years after the deluge—the chronolo-
gy of these conflgurations corresponding with the Septuagint.
He also enumerates all the particularly remarkable kings, from
Menes down to.Herodotus, for which, also, he has the authority
of that celebrated historian—Mœris, 1777 B. C.; after him his
eon Sesoetns (Osymanda), 1731 B. C.; then Pheron (Kamesea
14£
EGYPT AND SINAI.
the Great), 1694 B. C.; then Proteus, at the time of the Trojan
war; th>en ßhampsinit; then Cheops, the supposed builder of
this structure; then Chephren, who built the pyramid that
stands by its side.. This chronology, Seyffarth assures us, is
confirmed by the astronomical observations and planetary con¬
figurations recorded, and which can now be. seen upon Egyp¬
tian monuments.
If these chronological conclusions are right, then many
former perplexing errors are corrected, the dates of important
events are incontrovertibly settled, the fables and marvelous le
gends with which some had invested the early history of this
land are cleared away, Manetho's thirty thousand years are all
brought within the limits of our established records, and we
learn, also, that the pyramids were not built before the crea¬
tion ! they were not built before the flood ! they were not built
before writing was invented ! they were not here when Abra¬
ham visited Egypt, and this one, at least, was not built by the
children of Israel, indeed, was not erected until about the close
of the Trojan war, and about the time that David was king
over Israel. Thus it is that light seems to be springing up from
the ruin and darkness of the past ; from these moidering re¬
mains of antiquity, voices are heard vindicating the revelations
of God to man.
I trust I shall not diminish the interest with which we look
upon this wonderful structure, by thus clipping off a few thous¬
and years from its antiquity. It is still a venerable and hoary
pile, and we contemplate it with awe and reverence. But I
forget where we are ; I am detaining- you too long in this dark
chamber, with its suffocating atmosphere and its gloomy asso¬
ciations. There is but one thing more for us to notice particu¬
larly—
THE OLD GRANITE S A R 0 0 P H A G IT S.
It is the only piece of furniture the chamber contains—a chesl
of red granite, chiseled from a solid block. It measures outside
seven feet five inches in length, three feet two inches in breadth,
three feet three inches deep, and its sides between four and five
inches thick. Its size is just about equal to the doorway, but
THE OLD SARCOPHAGUS.
14ó
..arger than the passage leading to the room, so that it must
nave been placed here when the room was buiít. "Was it for
tliis sarcophagus this stupendous pile of stone was erected.*
That this great monument was intended for,the dead seems evi¬
dent, and this is the only tomb found within it. And what has
become of the lordly occupant? "When, and by whom was it
filled, and when did it give up its treasure ? There it stands,
in mute and mock defiance of every efiEbrt to ascertain the his¬
tory of its owner. I turned again and again to view that-
curious old granite chest. Like the tomb of Joseph after the
morning of the resurrection, it was empty; the stone had been
rolled away from the door, but no angel sat upon it to give the
anxious visitor tidings of its occupant. Whose dust was de¬
posited here, and what ruthless hands had invaded the sanctity
of the tomb? I stood by its side, laid my hands upon it, and
gazed into it*with a long, deep, earnest look!
One of my guides seeing me thus interested in the old tomb,
ventured to speak: "You like to hah piece oh dat?" I looked
at it. Rude hands had hammered at it till every edge and cor¬
ner had been rounded off by the perpetual chipping. "What
sacrilegious visitants," thought I. " But, then, what harm ? and
why may riot I share with others ? When I set up my little
cabinet of curiosities away near seven thousand miles from this,
will it not be pleasant to add to the collection a little splinter
from this old granite sarcophagus—a little bit of the tomb of
Cheops, from the great valley of the K'ile, transported to the
great valley of the father of waters in the West, where, too, are
Duried cities and monumental mounds, still wrapped in pro-
founder mystery! Ah! little did that great monarch think,
when he built this mighty mausoleum, with its secret winding
passages and intricate chambers, and had his mortal remains so
carefully laid away and wonderfully walled in, that curious
travelers, from a then far off" and unknown world, would corue
and gaze upon his empty sepulchre, and wonder who had been
ts occupant!"
Thoughts like these passed rapidly through my mind, while
die tall Arab stood leaning towards me waiting for my answer,
'I'd give a dime for a piece of it," said I, as if awaking from
10
144
EGYPT SIXAI.
a reverie. He vanished into a dark corner of the chamber, and
immediately appeared again with a stout bowlder in his hand;
tapped the chest gently at first to show how clear and musiea],
like a bell, it would ring; then he pounded away at it with as
little compunction as though it had been a piece of rough
granite in the quarry. The reverberations rung like a death-
knell through the lofty chamber and along the arched galle¬
ries. I almost trembled, as if expecting some slumbering
genii of the place would be aroused, and come with demon
fury to avenge the insult to the shades of the departed. The
work was completed; a small bit of the red granite was placed
in my hand, and 1 passed back the promised pledge. He took
the dime, roUed it in his fingers—a thought struck him. "We
got no small money. We can't divide him. Gib us another,
will you ? " Surrounded by so much greatness, I was not dis¬
posed to stand upon trifles, and 1 handed him the'second dim&
I was now ready to go, but my guides had another act in the
drama to perform. They wanted to show me the wonderful
ECHO or THE CHAMBER.
One of them uttered a long, clear, musical note. It rever¬
berated from side to side, from roof to floor, and floor to roof;
and came back, echo after echo, from the long gallery, until it
seemed as if a hundred voices had conspired to prolong the
sound. Then the two set in for an extemporaneous song. It
was in part like the one to the music of which we had as¬
cended the outside, except an addition to the chorus, not only
complimenta^, but intended to remind me of my backsheesh
pledge. It closed as follows :
American gentleman bery good man,
Give us backsheesh, not itU ahñk,
Yankee doodle dandy.
TUE E0RE8B.
My Visit was over. Alon^the close and suffocating pathway
we climbed, and just as the light of day came stealing into the
gloomy recess, my guides again stopped. «De sheik he no
pay us for dese candles; we get em oursef. Gib us ^me."
PABTING WITH THE ARABS.
145
rhie seemed reasonable, and as I bad started with the intentioti
of paying my way through, and making friends with these
genii—no, geniuses—of the place, I promptly paid over the
coveted dime. Again we stood upon the outside steps. I took
long, deep draughts of the fresh, pure air, and rejoiced at my
release from the dark and stifling chambers within. Again I
opened my purse, and each Arab received with a bow and a
chank 'e his promised shilling—backsheesh. A few minutes
more, and we were face to face with the sheik, at the corner of
the great pile where we filrst started on our strange expedition.
He met me with a dignified air and pleasant smile : " How you
like him?" "Very well," said I; "great place; very good
men. I owe you five shillings." "Yes." I placed the silver
in his hand ; he received it with a complacent smile, and trans¬
ferred it to his purse, and to my great surprise, and true to his
agreement, put in no claim for a backsheesh—^the first, and I
believe the only Arab I dealt with, that was content with his
stipulated wages.
Taking out my memorandum book, "How," said I, "I am
going. I want the names of these two men and your own, that
I may remember you when I get to America." At this they
seemed much pleased. "Your name?" "Abdallah Said."
" Yours ?*■ "Abbara Said." Then turning to the governor,
" Sheik Allah, superintendant," said he. I saw he was proud
of his title and position, and so I put it all down. "We shook
hands and parted good friends, and the remembrance of my
visit to the great pyramid, and my reception and treatment by
its Arab attendants, will ever be accompanied with pleasant as¬
sociations. It was so different from what most travelers report,
I am almost persuaded to believe that the poor fellows are
eitherjgreatly libeled, or that travelers are greatly at fault in
their own conduct As I turned away, another question occu¬
pied my mind :
WET WXBK THISÏ PTBAHIDS BUILT?
There has been much speculation upon this subject. That
they were built for tombs is very evident. The place where
they stand—^in the very midst of a city of tombs—the ear
146
ÜGTPT AND SINAI.
cophagi found in the inner chambers, and other reasons that
might be mentioned, all seem to indicate that this was their
primary design. But while this was their main object, they
might, as has been suggested, have served for other purposes-
Some say they were intended to aid in astronomical observa¬
tions. They do not, however, appear to have been intended foi
observations, for the tops were pointed, and the outsides covered
with a smooth casing, to prevent access to them. They stand
exactly due north and south, and the observation of the sun's
shadow might have served to fix the return of certain periods
of the year.
If they are simply tombs, why built at such enormous ex¬
pense of time, labor and money? "We can give no answer, only,
" To gratify the foolish ambition of kings." How much reli¬
gious superstition, and false notions of the future well-being of
the soul, as connected with the preservation of the body, had
to do with it, we cannot tell. Certain it is, there seems to have
been some most powerful motive, more so than any mere
earthly ones could exert, to preserve the body from destruction.
But these questions are locked in the impenetrable secrets of
the past. Another question arises,
BY WHOM WERE THEY OPENED?
This is another of those mysteries that would gratify our cu¬
riosity, and yet might minister but little to our fund of useful
knowledge. This piece of vandalism is attributed, like many
others, to the Caliphs. They understood that secret chambers
existed in these structures, and that valuable treasures were
often interred with the kingly occupants of these places. Ca¬
liph Mamoon has the credit, or discredit, of opening this great
pyramid, about eight hundred and twenty years after Christ.
His engineers commenced in the center of the structure, and
forced a passage by immense labor about one hundred feet
The cunning builders, supposing a passage would be looked for
in the center, had placed it about twenty-three feet towards one
side. In the efforts to penetrate the interior, the workmen,
having forced their way about one bunded feet, accidentally
struck the real passage.
A KIDDLE EXPLAINED.
147
Access was at last obtained to the hidden chamber and tomb,
but alas ' the coveted' treasures were not to be found. Some
earlier explorer had entered before the Caliph, and if the tomb
had ever contained any thing valuable, itj had been taken away,
rt is said the Egyptians themselves plundered many of the
tombs of Thebes, and this one probably did not escape their ra¬
pacity. It is also the opinion of some that these immense piles
contain secret passages and hidden chambers that have not yet
been discovered, and that future explorations may yet be re¬
warded by valuable and important discoveries.
THE SPHINX.
I now turned my attention to a few other interesting objects
in the immediate vicinity. I had often read of the sphinx, but
I found I had formed a very imperfect conception of it. Come
with me then, and look at this great monster. But first let us
ealk about the sphinx in general, and then examine this one
more particularly. The Sphinx has a prominent place in Gre¬
cian as well as in Egyptian mythology, but the Grecian Sphinx
appears to have been quite difierent from the Egyptian ; t^^eirs
was a cruel, fabulous monster, partly animal, partly human,
sent by Juno among the Thebans to punish them for some of
their misdeeds. It kept a pqrtion of the country under contin¬
ual alarms, by propounding difficult enigmas, and devouring
the inhabitants if they could not explain them. But this cruel
monster had one vulnerable point. It was whispered that she
could not survive a defeat. She would put an end to herself if
one of her riddles was explained. At last came this enigma i
" What animal walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon,
and three in the evening?" The terrified inhabitants offered a
crown and the daughter of a king for a wife to any one who
would solve it. At last one Edipus made the discovery that man
walks on his hands and feet when young, or in the morning of
life; at the noon of life, he walks erect; in the evening of his
days, he leans upon his staff. The Sphinx, chagrined at being
thus defeated, threw herself from a high rock and expired.
Such being the end of the Grecian Sphinx, we are not to
look for its resurrection in these Lybian sands; this is an Egyp-
148
EGYPT AND SINAI.
tian Sphinx, with disposition and qualities quite different from
the one we have been contemplating. Of these singular stat¬
ues, the Egyptians had many; they stood as sentinels along the
magnihcent avenues that led to their temples. They were the
head and shoulders of a man upon the body of a lion, sup-
posed to represent the union of intellect and strength. They
were of all sizes, from that of a small animal to the mighty co¬
lossus that now stands before us. Many of tljfse sphinxes
have been removed from Egypt, and now adorn the muse'ims
of Europe. One of them I saw in the Louvre at Paris, twen¬
ty-two feet long, carved from a single block of red granite ; but
this one is as unmovable as the solid rock of the hül from
which it isquarnled. Let us approach and examine it.
We are first struck with its peculiar formation. It stands
seventeen hundred feet due east of the second pyramid, and
about one thousand feet southeasterly from the southeast cor¬
ner of the great pyramid. The great pyramids under whose
shadows it rests, no doubt, much diminish the awe and rever¬
ence its gigantic proportions would otherwise inspire. As you.
come up from the east it stands directly facing you, looking out,
towards the eastern sky, as if to catch the first glimpses of the
golden sun of the morning. It is one hundred and twenty-
eight feet long ; from the rock en which it rests its lion-like
breast to the top of the head, is fifty-five feet nine inches, while
that massive head measures round the forehead eighty-eight
feet seven inches. It is, like all others of its species found in
Egypt, in a recumbent or crouching posture, and it stretches
out its enormous paws fifty feet in firont of its capacious breast
This unwieldly monster, except the paws, is a monolith, that
is, it is of one piece, cut from the native rock of the limestone
ledge of which it forms a part. On the back, where the origi
nal rock appears to have been defective, pieces of stone have
been fitted in. This imposing head was adorned with a cover¬
ing much resembling a wig, the flowing hair of which can still
be seen projecting from each side. Time, the driving sands of
the desert, and the hand of violence, have left their wasting in¬
fluences on this noble piece of art. The nose has been nearly
destroyed, the emblematic horns that adorned the head have
TAB GIGANTIC SPHINX.
149
been broken off, deep furrows bave been plowed in the neck
and sides of the face ; but there it stands, still grand, noble and
majestic.
Several years since, some scientific gentlemen, making explo¬
rations here, had the sand and rubbish cleared away, that for
centuries had been accumulating over it, and beneath which it
was nearly buried. It was found to rest upon a smooth, rocky
platform, an altar standing between its giant paws. On this
piriform were scattered about fragments of altars, lions, tablets
and other sculptures, clearly indicating that here had been a
sanctuary to which funeral processions had come, where sacri¬
fices had been offered and sepulchral rites performed. It is
supposed that it is the remaining one of a pair of sphinxes that
once stood as guardian deities, gracing the entrance to a mag¬
nificent avenue leading to the pyramids. On one of the gran¬
ite blocks found near the feet of the sphinx, Tbothmes TV. is
represented on one side offering incense, on the other, pouring
out a libation to the figure of a small sphinx. Pliny says this
great Sphinx was a local deity, and treated with divine honors,
not only by priests, but by strangers who visited the spot. ^ The
sands of the desert have again destroyed every vestige of these
laborious excavations. The lone divinity has been re-entombed,
and now stands with only his head and shoulders above the
ground, like a lone guardian of these sepulchral regions.
The Greeks of ancient days evidently had access to this di¬
vinity of the tbmbs, for when the excavations alluded to were
made, a Greek inscription was found cut upon one of the paws,
which has been translated as follows :
"Thy form stupendous here the gods have placed,
Sparing each spot of harvest-bearing land ;
And with this mighty work of art have graced
A rocky isle, incumbered once with sand,
And near the pyramids have bid thee stand:
Not that fierce Sphinx that Thebes erewhile laid waste^
But great Latona's servant, mild and bland.
Watching the prince beloved who fills the throne
Of Egypt's plains, and calls the Nile his own ;
That heavenly monarch, who his foes defies.
Like Yalcan, powerful; and like Pallas, wise."
150
EGYPT AND SINAI.
But while this Sphinx has Egyptian records on his tableta^
and names of kings on his altars, and carved lessons in Greek
on his paws, has he no homilies for us? That Sphinx is
A OBATE OLD PBEAOHEB.
There is something solemn and impressive in those time-worn
features ; marred and scarred as they are by the lapse of weary
centuries, we gaze upon them with strange interest. Come
and sit down here on these drifting sands, beneath which^he
lies nearly buried, and let him talk to us.
" Once I was a deity. The crown of honor was on my head;
a majestic temple opened for me its sculptured portals; the
emblems of worship were at my feet ; the smoke of burning
incense enveloped me in fragrant clouds; oblations and sacri
fices were laid upon mine altars, and costly libations were poured
out by adoring multitudes. Alas ! how changed ! My temple
has fallen into ruins about me. My altars have been broken
and desecrated by ruthless hands, and I have been powerless to
repel or punish the sacrilegious act. The patrons of my shrines
have perished around me. I saw them borne to yonder great
monumental piles, and I could administer no consolation, nor
cheer the dying hour with a single ray of hope. I saw the
monuments where they had hid themselves plundered before
my eyes, and I could lift no hand to smite the heartless inva¬
ders of the realms of death. I have been the derision of the
conqueror, the scoff of the plunderer; sacrilegious hands have
smitten me; the storms have plowed deep furrows upon my face;
I am fast yielding to decay, and the ruin that has fallen upon
my companions and predecessors is settling down upon me.
The winds of heaven are sounding my requiem, and the sands
of the desert are weaving over me a tomb. I am no divinity !
I, too, must perish! I have not saved others; I cannot save
myself! "
Venerable relic of the past ! thou hast been taught lessons
few have ever been able to learn. Thou hast been taught to
know thyself—^the knowledge of thine own weakness, insignifi¬
cance, mortality—and thou art humbled. But is that all?
Tell us, thou ancient chronicler ! as thou hast seen the mighty
THE SPHINX'S SEEMON.
151
tide of centuries sweeping by, bast thou no treasured wisdom
for us children, who come and sit at thy feet? What words of
warning and instruction hast thou? Where shall man look for
light and life? In what divinity can he trust?"
" Children of a day, what sights I have seen ! What sounds
I have heard ! What lessons I have learned ! I saw all the
gods of this land confounded and overthrown! I saw the
workings of that invisible hand that was stretched out in Al¬
mighty power! I saw yonder majestic river rolling through
those fertile plains in torrents of blood ! I saw those fearful
flashes of lightning, heard those awful thunders, and felt the
power of that flerce storm of hail that smote man and beast !
I heard the Wallings that came up from cottage and courtly
palace on that ghastly night, when the angel of death un¬
sheathed his sword and walked in terror through thè land; our
gods were stripped of their divine honors, our magicians con¬
founded, our priests put to confusion ! I heard from the impe¬
rial palace of yonder ruined city, the confession these wonders
and judgments extorted! It was the triumph of the King of
kings, the exaltation of the Lord of lords. Yes, the Lord lie
is God. He dwells not in reptiles, birds and beasts. He is not
in the hissing serpent, the sacred ibis, the royal bull, nor yet in
sculptured stone—alas ! how these things have perished around
me ! He fills heaven above you with glory, and the earth is full
of his works. He is more enduring than the Sphinx, greater
than the pyramids, sublimer than the mountains, infinite in
glory, majesty and power." His sermon was ended. Farewell !
venerable Mentor! Well hast thou spoken. Long-remembered
and useful be the lessons that have fallen from thy mute yet
eloquent lips !
OTHER TOMES.
These pyramids are only great tombs among the myriads of
smaller ones with which they are encircled. The whole west-
em bank in this vicinity of the green valley of the Kile, for
miles and miles, has been consecrated to the repose of the dead.
Here are the sepulchers of kings, mummy pits, 'bis tombs, and
rock-hewn chambers, for the magnificent sarcophagi of Apia
152
EGYPT AND SINAI.
bulls. Here countless thousands have been gathered unb their
fathers, and the sands of the desert are every year bwyinje
them deeper and deeper.
The bottle boy had been a close companion-—had followi|
me in all my walks—stood by my side when I gazed on tne
Sphinx, and waited patiently for me through all my reveiiei.
He was master of a little English, and very kind and consider*
ate in his attentions. He not only invited me to diink^but
seeing my hands soiled by climbing the rocks, offered to pour
water upon them; picked up fossil shells and ^ecim^sof
stones for me, and withal was so gentle, he won upon my affec¬
tions, and I was pleased to have him with me. His chaneeiilbr
a good backsheesh were already decidedly favorable. Tuniil¡|
away from the Sphinx, he called my attention to a wonder^
tomb that had just been excavated. It was only> short dh^
tance from the Sphinx. The top of the ground had been
cleared away, the sand and rubbish all removed, leaving the
entire vault open to inspection. A large, square pit, about
twenty-five feet each way, was cut directly down into the rock
to the depth of about twenty feet. Around this pit there was
cut, also into the solid rock, a trench about ten feet wide^-and a
few feet deeper than the central pit—thus leaving-a room
completely surrounded by a heavy wall of solid roct. In the
center of this inner pit or room was a large granite chest, cut
from a solid block, very much like the one I have described in
the king's chamber of the pyramid. This was covered ly a
heavy lid of the same material. This lid had been car^ffly
lifted off and set one side. "Within the chest lay the coffin or
real sarcophagus. It was, in shape, very much Ijke our metaUié
burial cases. It appeared to be carved from black basalt, and was
covered over with hieroglyphical figures and inscriptions, and
was looking as clean, fresh and perfect as when first depoi|ted.
It had not yet been opened. Whether any thing w'oui^ba
found to reveal the name and character of the occupant, and
when he lived, was yet uncertain. Within that sculptured
chest was undoubtedly sleeping the mummied remains of some
distinguished personage. For thousands of years he had en¬
joyed here the quiet sleep of the tomb, among his fathers and
8EPDLCIIRAL MONUMENTS AND MDMMY-PIT3 OP ANCIENT KOYPT.
BüPULCHBAL CHAMBBB OF MYCERINITS.
ADIEU TO THE PTEAMIDS.
153
kindred; but now his long, long repose must be dist^'rbed, and
in some far off museum, inquisitive strangers would gaze upon
his blackened and withered features and wonder who he was !
THE DËPABTTTBE.
We have seen the wonders of the place—^let us return to the
base of the pyramid and leave for home. Eottle Boy, good
bye ! But stop—^the backsheesh ! Do n't blight the hopes of
his yearning, expectant heart. He, no doubt, was in hopes to
get a half piaster, perhaps a whole one. I had grown in love
with the little fellow, and I put a quarter of a dollar into his
hand. He looked at it at first with a doubtful, inquisitive stare,
as though wondering if it was not bogus. Having assured
himself it was genuine—^for these fellows have all a keen dis¬
crimination of money—his eyes dilated almost to the size of the
piece, a smile of joy kindled upon his countenance, and he
bounded away with the lightness of a fawn to the mud hovel
he called his home.
I found Hassan waiting; and the patient Lily Bob, who had
been fasting all day on the sixpence I gave his master to buy
him some grass, pricked up his long ears and looked at me in¬
quisitively, as much as to say, "I would be glad to leave this
barren place.** I had scarcely got well under way for home,
when I found Hassan in for
AEOTHEB TBIOK.
He certainly was an inventive geniuSi I had not ridden more
than ten minutes when the boy suddenly ordered a halt. Put¬
ting on a most rueful look: "0! I've left my donkey stick."
I quizzed him a little to know what it was and how he had
lost it. He expressed the most profound sorrow at losing it.
"What was it worth, Hassan ?" said I. " O, I gib quarter dol¬
lar for him." I knew the stick was an insignificant switch, not
worth two paras, and that the whole proceeding was a mere
ruse to move upon my sympathies, with the expectation that 1
would immediately give him a quarter to buy another with. I
comprehended his design at a glance, and said, carelessly:
"Hever mind, Hassan ; I'm in no hurry. I can wait as well as
164 EGYPT AND SINAI.
not. I'll stop here ; you run back and get it." Hassan tarned
and looked back, as if measunng the distance with his eye,
hesitated a moment—" Guess I go home leab him."
The sun was just dipping his golden disk beneath the west-
ern horizon, far over the distant deserts, as we entered the
gates and wound our way through the narrow, crowded streets
of Grand Cairo. "We crossed the Ezbekieh—gained the hotel.
Hassan was evidently chagrined that he had so signally failed
in every attempt to cheat me, and received somewhat sullenly
his two and sbcpence wages and sixpence backsheesh, while I
failed not to administer a lecture in such English as I thoi^ht
he could understand, upbraiding him with having lied to me
every step of the way, and assuring him that I would not em¬
ploy him again if I spent a month in Cairo.
I had just time for a bath. and the adjustment of my toilet,
when the bell called to supper. A hard day's toil gave addi¬
tional relish to the smoking viands, and refreshed, I retired to my
room to review the day. My excursion had cost me just three
dollars and a quarter. Some travelers at the hotel said it was
too much—^that it was a bad precedent to deal liberally with
the Arabs, it encouraged extortion. I could not so consider it.
It might have been large pay for the time and place, but had it
been in the vicinity of one of our American cities, the liv^
hire alone would have been nearly that amount. For myself,
I was satisfied ; I had enjoyed a pleasant excursion, written my
name upon the top of Cheops, gazed into the face of the Sphinx,
and been taught important moral lessons—lessons of human
greatness and human littleness. How abortive are all attempts
to secure earthly immortality ! I put king Checks by the side of
Paul—the great house of stone in which the one had hid him¬
self was contrasted, in my mind, with the house not made with
hands, eternal and in the heavens, in which tHe other hoped to
rest; the crown and treasures that barbarian plunderers had
stolen, with the crown of righteousness that will never fade
uway.
THE CITY OF THE SUN.
CHAPTER IX.
ExctJKSioN to Heliopolis and the Petrified Forest—a Son-
day in Cairo—^Visit to the Court of the Pharaohs.
Saturday, February 16. I awoke this morning from a re-
ñ^shing sleep. The full orbed sun was looking in at my win¬
dow, the songs of the birds were awaking inspiring echoes
among the tangled foliage of the Ezbekieh, and the air was
fragrant with the perfume of the sweet flowers of the Orient.
The day is to be devoted to an excursion to some places of in¬
terest, a few miles from the city. Breakfast over, I stood on
the steps of the hotel, and a score of donkey boys were at once
on hand. Hassan, at the very flrst glimpse of me, paraded Lily
Bob, looking as smiling and innocent as though naught but
truth had ever kissed his lips. I would have patronized him,
forgetting all the past, but he immediately commenced his old
tricks, by assuring me most solemnly the places I wanted to
visit could not be done in a day, and we must take two days
for it. I had posted myself as to time and distance, and knew
he was lying to me like a reprobate, and again I poured out
my denunciations upon him,' called him a deceitful rascal, and
assured him I would have nothing to do with him. s
I pushed him one side, and called another: *'Can you take
me to HeliOpoUs, and then to the petrified forest—to both
places and back to-day2" " Yœ, sah." "And to Shoobra? "
"Shoobra, he shut up now. "We no visit him. "We go by
Shoobra." "How much you ask?" "Two and sixpence. Dat
de price. All de gemmen he pay so much. Ton get on, sah ?
Good donkey. He no fall down." He held the stirrup of his
fancy saddle; in a moment I was astride of his little, clean-
15b
EGYPT AND SINAI.
shaved beast, ready for a gallop. And now come with me and
I will show you the ruins of Heliopolis, the ancient
ON, OR OITt OP THE SUN,
The place is six or seven miles from Cairo, nearly northeast;
the ride a most delightful one. A part of the way you have a
fine, broad, paved road, and the whole distance you are riding
through green fields of com, clover and various other produc¬
tions of the luxuriant soil. K'ow an orange grove opens upon
your sight, then an extensive vineyard, while all the time your
pathway is shaded by avenues of tamarisk, fig and acacia» that
weave their branches in tangled arches above your head. As
we approach the place, attention is called to some huge stone
blocks near the road. These are beautiful Corinthian capitals,
but the columns they once graced have now entirely disap¬
peared. As you approach nearer, a beautiful obelisk lifts its
slender form high into the heavens, standing in lone and solita¬
ry grandeur, the only monument left to mark the site of the
ancient, opulent city. This monument the donkey hoys con¬
found with the name of the ancient city, and call the place He-
liobolisk. Around it are numerous mounds of earth ; the de¬
bris of ruined buildings mix,ed with fragments of carved stone
and broken pottery. Some five or six feet of earth had accu¬
mulated about the base of this obelisk, but it has now been
removed, so as to reveal its full length. It is a single shaft of
red granite, sixty-eight feet two inches high, and six feet three
inches broad at the base. This is the father of all the obelisks,
the oldest one in existence, and here it stands in its original po¬
sition, where its builders first erected it. Its firm base and
towering head have withstood all the assaults of time, the con¬
vulsions of the elements, and the devastations of war. The
wreck and' ruin of four thousand years have not prevailed
against it.
The ancient Egyptians always built sphinxes and obelisks in
pairs. So it is said another obelisk formerly stood opposite
this, and the two marked the entrance to a magnificent temple.
.Prom the description of ancient writers, it is supposed there
was here a long avenue of sphinxes, reaching to the northwest
BXOXJRöION TO HELIOPOLIS.
157
gate of the city. Fragments of these are still occasionallj
found, bxit all that Is valuable has been caught up by antiqua¬
rians and removed, to add to the interest of public and private
museums.
This obelisk not only had its companion to grace the avenue
to the temple of the sun, but others, how many we know not
rose in majesty and beauty around it. From here were proba¬
bly taken the two we have before seen at Alexandria, also the
beautiful one that adorns the terrace of St. Peter's Church at
Rome, another that adorns the grounds of the Lateran, and still
another that stands at the Porta del Popolo of the same city.
This one is covered with hieroglyphics from base to top. These
hieroglyphics being deeply cut into the stone, the wasps upon
the two sides least exposed to the weather have chosen them
for their dwellings, and have so cased them to the very apex in
mud as to make them illegible.
THE TEMPLE CP THE SUN.
The grounds in the immediate vicinity of this obelisk have
been cultivated for many years as a garden. Here the careless
fellaheen sow their seeds and gather their harvests, in stolid
indifierence to the buried ruins beneath their feet. Yet, here
stood one of the oldest and finest cities of the world, and here
are buried the remains of some of the earliest temples. The
ancient Egyptian name of the city, as expressed in the hiero¬
glyphics, is Rb-bi, House or abode of the Sun. The Greeks called
it Heliopolis, and the Hebrews, Bethshemesh, House of the Sun.
This place was one of the most celebrated seats of ancient learn¬
ing; it was famed for astronomy, as well as the worship of the
Sun, and boasted of a renowned college of priests.
The Temple of the Sun, as described by Stabo, was a very
large and magnificent structure. This historian also tells us,
that when he visited the place, he saw some very large houses
where the priests used to live, but the schools of religion and
science had been discontinued; not a single professor was any
where to be found. A feWpriests had charge of the temple,
and explained their religious rites to strangers, and also pointed
out the house where Eudoxus and Plato lived, spending thirteen
11-
168
FGTPT AND SINAI.
years under the pnests of this renowned city. The sacred buli,
Mnevis, shared also with the sun the divine honors of the city,
and was one of the most noted among the sacred animals of
Egypt. Many interesting sculptures and inscriptions have been
found here, and doubtless many others lie entombed among
these shapeless mounds, that future researches may bring to
light. A red granite fragment was found at some distance
from the obelisk, on which are the name and mutilated %or«
of the great Remesis. hTot far from the obelisk is
THE EOUNTAIN OE THE SUN.
This is a beautiful fountain of water, springing directly from
the earth ; and fountains of this kind being so rare in Egypt, it
has ever made this a celebrated spot. Some say it is the only
living spring in the valley of the Nile. Not far from this place,
a venerable old sycamore tree spreads broad and thick its mas¬
sive branches, forming an inviting shade. "When Joseph and
Mary, with the child Jesus, fled from the jealous and cruel
Ilerod, and took refuge in Egypt, tradition says they reposed
under the shadow of these over-hanging bows, and slaked
their thirst at this renowned fountain ; and lo ! the salt waters
of the fountain were sweetened and the tree blessed with a
perennial greenness and vigor! That the parents of Jesus
should visit the City of the Sun, would be a very natural con¬
sequence of their coming into Egypt; that they should driuk
from this fountain would also be most probable, and it would
not be unreasonable to suppose they would seek a shade from
the scorching rays of the sun. But that this is the tree, oi that
a perpetual miracle was the result, is not very probable.
The first cotton planted in Egypt, was grown near this ebe-
lisk, on the site of this ruined city. It was sown as an experi¬
ment some thirty years ago, and now Egypt exports "arge
quantities of this great staple. In the gardens of this city
flourished the celebrated balsam trees, that were transplanted
from the gardens upon the plains of the Jordan near JerichOi
by Cleopatra. These trees are supposed to be the balm of
Gilead mentioned in the Bible. None of them now exists
either here or near Jericho. Some of them were transplanted
7I0ISSITIJDES OP LIFE.
159
to Arabia, near Mecca, where they still flourish, and from
whence the balsam is now brought to Egypt and Europe. A
short distance from this also we can look out upon the plain,
where in 1517 Sultan Selim encamped previous to his defeat
of Toman Bey, the result of which was the transfer of the
âcepter of the Mamaluke kings to the victorious Osmanlee
But what to me was of more interest than all of these things,
here was
THE HOME OF JOSEPH.
He married the daughter of Potiphera, Priest of On. How
strangely I felt as I gazed upon that ancient monument, and
stood in the midst of these scattered mounds, marking the site'
of a once populous city I "With what interest I recalled the
history of that young Hebrew, who once acted so conspicuous
a part in the scenes that have here transpired. That tall obe¬
lisk had witnessed his marriage, and these buried pavements
had, no doubt, often been pressed by his feet. What an in¬
structive history is his! His origin was lonely and obscure;
his introduction into Egypt most humiliating. How many
persons would have sunk under his burdens, and have fallen
under the fierce power of his temptations I
It was a sad and weaiy journey that he made from the com¬
forts of a home, and the fond affections of a doting father, to
the hard drudgery of a bond slave in a land of strangers. It
was a still more dreary pathway from the comforts and honors
of the house of Potiphar to the dark and dismal dungeon, to
become a companion of guilty felons. I saw him through
those two long years of dismal, weary, prison life, forgotten by
his friends and hated by his enemies, sometimes sinking under
the dark clouds of despohdency that gathered over him, then
rallying himself with the consciousness that his God was his
protector. During all these cheerless months he waited in
hope, trusting for the hour of his deliverance. His unspotted
life was a crown of honor, his integrity the rock on which he
was built.
Even hope has need of patience, and patient waiting will
bring the hour of deliverance. What a change was that from
160
BGTPT AND SINAI.
Vhe loathsome prison to the costly palace—^from the compamo&>
ihip of criminals to a triumphal seat in the chariot of the king
—from trembling under the frown of his tyrant jailer, to the
¿acclamations of the shouting multitude as they bowed the knee
before him. From the depths of degradation he was raised to
the bights of honor, and his elevation was more rapid than his
fall. Here, too, was
THE SCHOOL OE MOSES.
From the waters of yonder river that flow but a little dis¬
tance from us, the daughter of Pharaoh rescued the weeping
infant ; and she called him Moses, for she " drew him out of the
water." In the court of Pharaoh he found a home. Among
the renowned instructors that assembled in this city of the
learned, he was sent to school. Here he became learned in all
the wisdom of the Egyptians. But the schools and artful lo^c
of their philosophers, the crafty teachings of their priests, the
magnificence of their temples, and the pompous rituals of their
worship, could not eradicate or overcome that knowledge of
Jehovah God, and that attachment for his people he inherited
by his birth and drinked in from his mother's breast. He
turned his back upon the afB^uence and honors of the court,
and chose rather to sufler affiction with the people of Gk)d.
"We shall hear of him again when we visit in yonder desert the
Mount of God ; we shall see him again when in yonder Land
of Promise we stand on the Mount of Transfiguration. What a
history these places have ! WTiat lessons come to us from these
desolated mounds and these crumbling monuments ! But this
City of the Sun has another lesson for us. Let us sit down on
this old broken column, take out our Bible, and see how this city
was made a special subject of
PBOPHETIO DEOLARATIOM.
" Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel : Behold, 1
wMl send and take Hebuchadnezzar, the King of Babylon, my
servant. * * * * j kiddie a fire in the houses
of the gods of Egypt, and he shall burn them, and carry them
away captives. * * * * Hj. shall break also the imaga (f
IDOL GODS DB¿rROrji.D.
161
Bethshemesh, [House of the Sun,] that is in Egypt, and the
nouses of the gods of the Egyptians shall he bum with fire."
Jeremiah liii. 10. v
Could prophecy have spoken in plainer terms? And here
we sit upon the very ground of which the prophet spoke, and
here we see around us the desolations that in fulfillment of the
word of God have been wrought! It was not many years after
Jeremiah penned those words, that the proud king of Babylon
led his conquering army, according to the record of both Jose-
phus and Berosus, into Syria and Palestine; subdued the Am¬
monites and Moabites, and pushed his conquests into Egypt.
He laid waste their temples, burned their wooden gods, and
rarried away their gold and silver ones, and loaded himself and
army with the spoils of the land. "What a place to meditate I
To recall the wonders of a wonder-working God ! To be im¬
pressed with his prescience, and note the Handwriting of his
power! But we have otber places to visit, and must not linger
about these impressive monuments of the past. We turn and
lake our course towards
THE PALACE AT SHOOBKA.
This would well repay a visit, but it is now shut up, and un-
Jergoing repairs, and we could only get admittance to the
grounds. It was the palace of Mohammed Ali, and is now
owned and used by his successor in the viceroyalty. It is about
four miles northward from the^city and near the banks of the
N^ile. A beautiful avenue, shaded by acacia trees, leads from,
the city to it. These trees have.been planted between forty
and fifty years. They grow rapidly, and when in blossom, fill
the air with fragrance.
"When the Viceroy is at Cairo, Shoobra is generally his lodg¬
ing place. He transacts business in the palace of the citadel a
part of the day, and retires to this beautiful retreat to regale
and rest himself. The grounds are beautifully laid,out, and
more attractive than the palace. They are generally open to
the public, and large numbers of visitors resort to them. It is
said they were laid out by a Greek in old Italian style. They
are beautifully diversified with terraces, walks, bowers, fiowera
162
EGYPT AND SINAI.
aud sliaded avenues. Many of the walks are beautifully paved
with small black and white pebbles, wrought into various de¬
signs of mosaic work.
The great attraction of the garden is a noble reservoir of
water, gushing from marble fountains in the form of croco¬
diles. A visitor here in the days of Mohammed Ali tells us,
that in the enjoyments of the garden he was not unmindful of
the pleasure of his women, and had arrangements made to
have them paddled about in boats in this great reservoir, often
giving private directions to the boatmen to upset the frail craft
and surprise the fair ones with a cold bath—" a piece of malice
which afforded him as much unquaMed delight as though he
were still in his school-boy days." From this beautiful place
where the senses are regaled by the adornments of art, we tum
to contemplate one of the strange and curious freaks of
Nature,
THE PETBiriED FOREST.
I confess, notwithstanding all I had heard and read upon the
subject, I had a very indefinite idea of what I was to see, as
Abdallah turned the head of his donkey in the direction of the
" forest," and urged him into a canter by a vigorous apphcation
of his shillalah. We passed the boundary of the Nile's green
verdure, and struck off directly into the dreary waste of sands.
Our course lay along a valley, or waddy, as it is called here,
with a range of barren hills on either side, from many of which
immense quantities of stone had at some previous time been
quarried. At a distance of several miles from the city, we
came upon these immense petrifactions. I say immense
though far inferior to what I had expected to see.
" Petrified Forest " is certainly a misnomer, for there is no
forest here. Large masses of petrified wood are scattered here
and there among the sands, but in this vicinity there are none
over three or four feet long. Some of them are portions of
. thorn-bearing trees, some are palms, and some appear to be a
kind of bamboo. "Williamson tells us that in one place on the
Suez road, he observed one of these petrified palm trees, be-
*ween twenty-five and thirty feet long, imbedded in sandstone
ANCIENT SEPULCHBES.
1C3
lock. It is supposed that those woods have been at some time
imbedded in a friable layer of sandstone. Here, by long and
silent process, the texture was gradually changed. The sand¬
stone, having at last been decomposed, was carried off by the
winds and rains, and the heavier bodies of petrified timber
remained upon the surface. The specimens, many of them,
are of a very peculiar character, exhibiting sometimes a rotten
surface of wood, the layers distinctly marked; sometimes a
knot or joint, and then again a bit of limb, with the pith
through the middle plainly to be seen. The place where these
petrifactions are found, is a desolate, cheerless looking spot. I
gathered a few specimens for my cabinet, and was glad to turn
my face once more toward the city. As we neared Cairo, we
passed the
TOMBS OF THS MAMÂLUXE KINGS.
Egypt is a land of tombs! Its sepulchres have been far
more enduring than the abodes of the living. These tombs
stand just in the edge of the desert, not far from the city.
They were built more than four hundred years ago, and are
fine specimens of the Arabic architecture of those times.
Each tomb has a mosque attached to it, surmounted by a mina¬
ret. They are built of stone, quarried from the neighboring
hills. But, though substantially built, and formerly kept in
repair, they are now in a very dilapidated condition, and no
one seems to care for them.
They have been called the tombs of the Caliphs. But the
dust of the Caliphs, it is said, does not repose here. Their
combs once occupied the site now covered by the silk bazars
' of the city, and were long since destroyed. These monuments
mark the spot where the Baharides and Mamaluke Sultans
sleep. They were themselves invaders and plunderers; and
now, in turn, their very tombs are wasting away. The reckless
Arab is snatching from them stone after ston'e, and they too,
like the lordly forms they were built to cover, will soon perish
from the earth. The power and splendor of thrones and rulers
will pass away; the beauty of the costliest monuments will
perish forever What are such things to these dreamless
164
EGYPT AND SINAI.
sleepers ? What care they whether over them the green eartli
smiles in beauty, or the cheerless desert bleaches in the bum ,
ing sun—whether their requiem be the song of birds, and the
hum of insects, or the wail of the desert wind, as it heaps the
sands higher and higher over their heads ?
MODE or WATERING THE LAND.
As we ride homeward, we may notice some of 'the peculiari¬
ties of cultivation. Though various kinds of trades and manu¬
factures are carried on in the cities, the mass of the people live
by the cultivation of the land, and the genial climate and
fertile soil amply repay their labors. The annual inundation
of the ííile is not only the great fertilizer, but in the absence
of rains, supplies the moisture by which vegetation is sustained.
During the long months of sunshine that follow the abating
of the waters, most portions of the land would become diy
and parched, were it not for the artificial means that are
used to treasure up the waters, and then by various means
pour them over the land at the time when most needed.
The land to be irrigated is divided into small squares or beds
by little canals cutting each other at right angles. The water
is raised from wells, reservoirs, and, if in the vicinity of the
N'ile, from the river itself, by different devices. When the water
is to be raised but a few feet, sometimes a solitary man or boy
may be seen dipping it up with a bucket — a slow and toilsome
process. Sometimes a kind of basket is hung upon a couple
of ropes, and two men, each having an end of the ropes in
hand, keep the basket perpetually swinging, dipping it fuU as
it comes down, and by a peculiar jerk of the ropes emptying it
at every elevation upon the land. A more common device for.
this purpose is the shadoof.
This is much like the old fashioned well-pole and sweep,
except that wood is so scafbe the upright post has to be made
of mud. Two of these mud pillars are erected, a beam laid
across the tops, and the sweep attached to this beam. For a
weight upon the end of this sweep, to balance the basket, as
neither wood nor stone can be afforded, a large ball of mud is
fastened to it. Here the patient native, stripped above and
yiBW ON THE NILE
Shadoof—Raising water in Egypt.
Oriental Women on Camels.
ARTIFICIAL IRRIGATION.
167
iHflow, with only a piece of cloth about his loins, toils on
through the long, weary hours of the day. Much of this
drudgery is performed by Ethiopians and Abyssinians, and
where the water is to be elevated to a considerable bight, rows
of these sweeps and buckets are arranged, tier above tier, the
first raising it to one reservoir, the second to another, until the
required elevation is attained, from which it is spread over the
laud. The annexed engraving gives a good idea of this labo¬
rious work. "When much water is to be raised, and there is
capital enough to einploy machinery, another device is resorted
to, called the sakiyeh.
A large horizontal wheel, with cogs, puts in motion a wind¬
lass, to which is attached a smaller vertical wheel, over which
is thrown an endless çope, with a series of earthen pots attached.
These operate like the buckets of grain elevators in our flour¬
ing mills, and as this series of pots go down on the one side
empty, and come up on the other full, rolling over the top of
the vertical wheel, they are emptied into a conductor and the
contents carried ofl" to the little canals along the fields. This
machinery is very coarse and rude, and makes a dismal, screak¬
ing noise. It is put in motion by a cow or an ox, sometimes
by a pair of them. The poor animals are blindfolded, and go
grinding round and round their weary pathway day after day,
all unconscious of the results of their labors. I looked for an
illustration of watering the land with the foot, to which some
tell us Moses alluded in speaking of the land into which he
was to lead Israel : " It is not as the land of Egypt from whence
ye came out, where thou sowedst thy seed, and wateredst it
with thy foot as a garden of herbs ; but the land whither ye
go to possess it is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh
water of the rain of heaven." Deut. xi ; 10,11. This, some
*ell us, refers to a method of raising water, sometimes practiced,
in which light machinery, similar to the above, is turned by the
foot like a kind of treadmill. Others think it refers to the fact,
that when the ground was laid out into these small beds, with
the little rivulets of water flowing among them, the channels
were stopped by pressing the mud into little dykes with the
bare foot, or opening them in the same way, as the ground
168
EGYPT SINAI.
might require. If the allusion was to the former practice, it
has now mostly fallen into disuse. When Kiebuhr visited this
country, he tells us he saw a machine of this kind used for
watering a garden in Cairo. If the latter practice was referred
to, illnstrations of it can be constantly seen.
But while we have been visiting these places of interest,
and watching these pursuits of the inhabitahts, the day has
rapidly passed, and the evening sun is throwing his parting
rays upon desert and valley, and we must hasten to our hotel
BTRBET CRIES, TATTOOINO AND BEOOARS.
Once more we are threading our way through the narrow
streets of the city, and now our ears are saluted with strange
sounds from the venders of diflGerent articles, as they hawk
them about the streets. They are talking Arabic, and we must
ask some one to translate for us. There is a man who has
limes for sale ■ " 0 limes ! limes !, God make them light," that is,
easy of sale. Another has a kind of cotton cloth made by
machinery put in motion by a bull, and he is crying at the top
of his voice : " The work of the bull ! the work of the bu^ !
O maidens ! " Another has his hands full of roses : " The ro'se !
the rose ! the rose was a thorn ; from the sweat of the Prophet
it blossomed ! " Another has the fragrant flowers of the henna
tree. Hear him call : " Odors of Paradise ! Odors of Paradise!
O flowers of the henna ! "
This henna is an article much in use in the East. The
flowers of the plant not only possess an agreeable odor, but
the leaves furnish the celebrated dye with which the nails and
other portions of the body are stained. The ladies imagine
they very much increase their beauty by these artificial stains
of hands, feet, lips, cheeks and eyes. Strange, that while in
one country all sorts of cosmetics are demanded to remove
every vestige of pimple, spot or stain, and preserve the com¬
plexion pure and white, in another, stains become beauty spots,
and the goddess of fashion imprints her deeply stained lines
and figures on the fairest lip and brow. Truly, there is no
accounting for tastes. The henna stains need renewing once
m two or three weeks, but the deeply inwrought tattooed lines
PIOUS BEGGARS.
171
remain for life, for the coloring matter is pricked into the flesh.
Thej" are generally of a deep blue color, and are made on the
forehead, chin, lips, breast, arms, hands and feet, and of any
pattern to suit the fancy. A specimen of henna staining and
tattooing may be seen in the engraving.
The beggars of Cairo are most importunate, and have a pious
method of coming at you that seems almost ludicrous. They
begin and end with appeals to God, and are familiar with both
imprecations and blessings. One approaches you and stretches
out his unwashen hands : " I am seeking from my Lord a cake
of bread ! Tor the sake of God, 0 ye charitable !" If it is
evening, one says : " My supper must be thy gift, 0 Lord I I am
the guest of God and the Prophet !" As I was dressed in
Frank costume, I was frequently followed by some of these
importunate beggars, who had accumulated a scanty English
vocabulary for the occasion : " 0 Christian ! good Christian ! O
Christian! I am seeking my supper from God!" Some of
these beggars go about chanting verses, sometimes beating a
cymbal or a kettle drum ; sometimes they are seen on horse¬
back. Lane tells us he saw one thus mounted, accompanied
by two men bearing a flag, and a third beating a drum, and in
this pompous manner he rode from hut to hut, asking for
bread.
The streets are passed ; we have run the gauntlet of the beg¬
gars—the din of the criers dies away in the distance. "Wel-
oome the hotel, our temporary home ! A long ride has given
us a good appetite, and we will hasten to enjoy the evening
meaL Do n't forget the donkey boy. He has more truth in
him than a dozen like Hassan — sixty-two and a half cents and
a backsheesh.
February llth. My first Sunday among Mohammedans.
To one accustomed to spend the day in a Christian land, and
in Christian worship, the scene seems strange indeed. The
Mohammedan Sabbath comes on Friday, the Jew's on Satur¬
day, and the Christian's on Sunday. Here I am, in a place
where three Sundays come in succession, and the result is a
verification of the old adage, "Extremes meet," for we have
no Sunday at all. The Mohammedan Sabbath is but little
172
EGYPT AND SINAI.
regarded. The bazars are all open, the mechanic plies his
instruments of labor, the fellah betakes himself to his accus
tomed pursuits, and loaded camels and donkeys march hither
and thither with their burdens. The mosques are open an hour
at noon, and yet but few take any notice of the call to prayer.
Of Christians and Jews, there are so few that the suspension of
their business upon their sacred days is scarcely noticed among
the busy multitudes of the great city. Never did I so much
appreciate, or so well understand the feelings of the Psalmist,
when he longed for the courts of the Lord, as I did while stop¬
ping in these Mohammedan lands.
ATTENDING WORSHIP.
/
But there is worship this morning at the chapel of the
English Mission, under the care of the Bev. Mr. Leider, and at
the American Mission this afternoon, under the care of Rev.
Mr. Bamet. Some of the English and American boardeis
will attend with us, and show us the way. These plaow of
worship are both in the Christian or Copt part of the city, and
are portions of a common dwelling-house, fitted up with seats
and desk for the occasion. The chapel of the English Mission
is entered from a central court, like most of the houses of th«
city; the building is a rude one, and truly oriental in style.
The three sides from which light is admitted is nearly all sash
and glass, much like our green-houses, so constructed as to
slide or turn on hinges, that they may be opened for the free
admission of air. Fires are never needed, so no provision is
made for warming; the great object of building here, is'to
keep the heat out, and secure the free admission of air.
About fifty persons were in attendance. The service was
Episcopal, and was followed by an excellent sermon.
The American Mission is under the patronage of the Asso¬
ciate Presbyterians, their rooms being in the same part of the
city. The attendance at their service was quite small. An
excellent sermon was preached by Rev. Mr. Bliss, an agent of
the American Bible Society, who has spent many years in
Ûreeçe and Turkey. These missionaries are a self-denying
devoted class of persons, but they have a sterile field upon
À SABBATH EVSNINO.
173
which to labor. Still, they are sowing good seed—some of it is
tAking root, and like leaven in the meal, it will yet produce
astonishing results.
A BBFLEOTION, AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES.
1 returned in musing mood to my hotel. There was none of
the holy calm and quiet stillness of the Sabbath of rest. Never
was I so deeply impressed with the value of the hallowed
influence of the " Pearl of Days," as when on this occasion I
looked out upon the toiling thousands about me. All the week,
all the month, all the year—ay, through life's weary pilgrim¬
age—^they toil on, the shadowy clouds of care and anxiety
hanging over them, without any openings through which to
catch the glimpses of the radiance of God's glory and sweet
foretastes of heavenly rest. I thought of what one of my
own countrymen says of this blessed day, when he compares it
to a man swimming the mighty stream, and who stops, pant¬
ing, to rest upon some midway rock, ere he plunges again into
the tide. So, by this day, lifted above the tumult of earthly
care, we rest and gain strength, before we go down again into
the dark ford, to make another struggle for the farther shore.
Though I was compelled to spend this Sabbath day far from
home and kindred, deprived of the hallowed associations in
which I was accustomed to mingle, it yet brought with it one
pleasant and interesting event. Up to this point I had made
my journey alone. This, as the result of my experience thus
far, I would never recommend any one to do. Secure one or
two—and two will be preferable—good traveling companions
before you leave home. It will make cheaper traveling, be-
rides relieving the tediousness and loneliness of the way. This
evening I was gratified in being permitted to make the ac¬
quaintance of two American gentleman who had just come
into the place—Rev. Edward P. Baker of Massachusetts, and
A C. Herrick, a theological student and teacher, from Maine.
They were pursuing the same route as myself, and we hence¬
forth became traveling companions.
Amid the vociferations of street criers, the din of business,
the hlamor of servants, donkey boys and camel drivers, the
12
174
EGYPT AND. SINAI.
weary hours of the Sabbath wore away. It was evening, and 1
was alone in my room. The snn had sunk away behind the
Lybian hills, and the shadows of twilight were gathering thick
and fast around me. However cheerful and pleasant compan*
ions may be, there is a holy luxury in sometimes being alone;
and alone at such an hour as this—and yet I was not alon& I
was in a land that had made strange history for the world, and
visions of the past flitted around me. I saw Abraham, the
venerable old man, on his visit to the court of Pharaoh ; Joseph
rose up in the dim visions of the past, and I saw old Jacob, his
father, expiring in his arms; then Moses, with his wonder-work¬
ing rod, came and joined the group. But not the renowned
only of ancient days, who had graced this land with ^eii
presence—the scene changed—^the loved of former days were
around me, absent friends came on light and cheerful wing to
greet me, and I held sweet converse with them. And then I
seemed lifted above them all. The heavens were bending to¬
ward me, and the glory of God kindled them with an unearth¬
ly radiance. It was a season of fond remembrances—of sanc¬
tified thought—of holy prayer ! 0, how much of life—of the
past—of the present—of the future—may be crowded into one
hour of calm, peaceful, twilight contemplation aud prayer!
THE BUINED OITT 07 THE PHABAOHS.
Monday Morning, Feb. VJih. We have slept safely and sweet¬
ly, because there is an eye that is never weary with watching,
an outstretched arm that never tires in its protection. Already
the sun is looking in cheerily at the window; the city, like a
great hive, greets us with the hum of its swarming occupante—
let us hasten our breakfast, and away upon our day's excursioD
to Memphis.
More than twenty donkey boys are waiting at the door, and
we can have our choice. To-day I am not to go alone, as 1
went to the pyramids; my two new companions go with me;
and you, reader, will please make the fourth one of the party;
It shall cost you nothing for a donkey, and I will show you all
the sights of the place. Do n't you think it's splendid riding
on these little long-eared asses? How like a rocking-'diair they
A BEAUTIFUL LANDSCAPE.
175
go, tipping yon backward and forward, «s they clear three feet
of distance at every bound ! And now we are passing
AN EOTPIIAN PALM OBOVK
No groves that I have ever seen exceed the beauty of these
palm plantations. Of course there are a great variety of palir
trees. These are the date palm, and produce the fruit that
forms quite a portion of the food of the dwellers in this valley.
These groves are planted in rows like our orchards. It is sur¬
prising what a variety of purposes the tree serves, and how use¬
ful it is made. The trunk, from twelve to eighteen inches in
diameter, rises in a single shaft or column, generally between
thirty and forty feet, sometimes as high as sixty, and is of uni¬
form size from bottom to top. The summit of this majestic
trunk is surmounted by a beautiful crown of leaves. Every
part of the tree seems to be put to some good use. From the
long trunks beams are made to support the floors and roofs of
their houses; an intoxicating beverage is distilled from the
fruit, and which, not coming within the interdiction of the
Koran, is much used among the Mohammedans. Palm wine is
made from the sap, but can only be procured by destroying the
life of the tree, consequently very little of it is made. The
cabbage of the' palm is found in the center of the tuft of foli¬
age that crowns its top. It is the tender germ of the future
leaves, tastes much like a chestnut, and is very nutritious. To
take this away also destroyes the life of the tree. The fibrous
parts of the bark and wood are manufactured into cordage,
mats, baskets and various other articles. The leaves are also
very useful, and a great variety of articles are manufactured
from them. But its annual tribute of fruit is what renders it
most valuable, and the failure of the date crop is one of the
greatest calamities that can befall the land. So useful are their
products, and so high an estimate is set upon them, every single
tree is a subject for special taxation, and pays its annual tribute
to the Pasha, for the support of the government. The tree ù»
ornamental as well as useful. They are the most beautiful and
striking objects of all the landscape scenery of Egypt. The
176
EGTPT AND SINAI.
grove througli which we are now passing is a very extensiv*
one, spreading over several miles of territory.
MEMPHIS, THE NOPH OP 80BIPTUBE.
A ride of from twelve to fifteen miles in a northwestern di¬
rection from Cairo was soon passed. Pleasant and cheerful
company, the beauty of the groves, the luxurious vegetation,
the mild and balmy air, all conspired to add to the pleasure of
the ride. And now we are approaching the site of the ancient
city. "What do you see ? Before us an elevated portion of land,
covered with palm trees, and just here one of those miserable
Arab villages of mud huts and ragged, wretched inmates.
This miserable village is a modern affair, called Metrahenny;
and strange as it may seem, we are now upon the very ground
where once stood the populous and magnificent city of the
Pharaohs. This spot was once covered by a dense population,
and ornamented with costly temples and palaces.
The Copts called it Momph, the Egyptians called it Ma-
nofre, and this is the name by which it is known among the
hieroglyphics. It was one of the oldest cities of the world, and
is supposed to have been founded by Menes, the first Egyptian
king. But what is there to show that this was once the site
of a flourishing city ? Look across yonder to the edge of the
desert and to those hills that mark the boundary of the valley,
and look upon that great city of the dead. There stand the
pyramids of Sakkara, and about them, stretching away for
miles, reaching northward to the great pyramids of Gizeh,'that
sea of sands is one great winding sheet, beneath which have
been entombed thousands and thousands of the dead. From
whence came the countless multitudes that slumber here, if
there has not been in this immediate vicinity a great city of
the living?
A few years since, had one been asked where the ancient city
of the Pharaohs stood, he would have been answered, "Proba¬
bly here, but none can tell." Ancient historians had spoken
of the existence of certain remarkable monuments in connec¬
tion with the city, but where these were, none could now tell,
and the very site of the city was a matter of dispute. Since
A KDINED CITY.
177
>ne commenri'inent of modern researches in this land, a beauti
ful colossal statue was discovered here, nearly buried in the
mud and earth. It proved to he one described by Herodotus,
connected with one of the great temples of Memphis. This
diroovery settled beyond controversy the site of the ancient
' -y.
It is a wonder to many how a city of such great dimensions,
containing such vast edifices, temples and statues, should be so
utterly destroyed. It should he remembered, that by far the
greater portion of the buildings of these cities were of unburnt
Oncks, a mixture of Hile mud and straw. When deserted, they
would quickly be reduced to a shapeless mass of mud that
would soon be covered by a growth of vegetation. The tem¬
ples and palaces of stone were more durable, but were pillaged
and wasted by war; the work of destruction thus commenced
would soon be consummated by the removal of every useful
portion to form a part of the edifices of more modern towns.
The heavy portions that could not so easily be removed, would
soon become imbedded in the yielding earth, the Hile would
leave its deposits over and around them, and thus the city
would vanish from the sight, and ere long perish from the re¬
membrance of man.
THE HISTOET OF MEMPHIS, OE NOPH.
We have spoken of its antiquity; let us recall a few incidents
in its subsequent history. The prophet Ezekiel was inspired
to proclaim the destruction of the place. "Thus saith the
Lord, I will destroy the idols, and I will cause the images to
cease out of Hoph." Ez. xxx 13. Jeremiah also saw the.
approaching hand of destruction. "Hoph shall be waste
and desolate without an inhabitant." xlvi 19.^ These pro¬
phetic declarations were uttered when the city sat in majesty
upon the hanks of this river, the crown of her pride unbroken,
the splendor and magnificence of her wealth undimmed.
The destniction of this city was to come out of the north,
and was to be by the hand of the king of Babylon. " Declare
ye in Egypt, * * * and publish in Hoph, * * * for
the sword shall devour round about thee. Destruction
178
EGYPT AND SINAI.
cometh, it cometh out of the north. The Lord of Hosts, i,n«
God of Israel saith : Behold, I will punish the multitude of No
and Pharaoh and Egypt, with their gods and their kings. An^
I will deliver them into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar, king of
Babylon. Jer. xlvi.
The victorious king of Babylon, about six hundred years be¬
fore Christ, having ravaged Jerusalem and conquered Tyre, led
his army into Egypt. Through all his course from Migdol, on
the southern frontier, to the very borders of Ethiopia, ruin and
devastation marked his course. Memphis was invaded, the
pride of Egypt was humbled, her king degraded, the cily and
tombs ravaged and plundered. At the expiration of forty
years, Memphis had mostly recovered from this desolating
siege.
Soon after this, Cambyses led his army of Persians into
Egypt, and Memphis was again besieged and laid waste. From
this ruinous blow it never recovered, though it continued for
many years to be the capital of Lower Egypt, until its rival,
Alexandria, despoiled it of this honor. Its halls were deserted,
its temples fell into ruins, magnificent edifices were torn down,
and the materials carried away. So great a city could not be
suddenly annihilated. Standing so near the banks of the Nile,
no doubt its beds of hewn and sculptured stone afiforded mate¬
rials for many years for the modern cities along the river.
Even as late as 1342, we read of very extensive ruins here, bnt
they have gradually disappeared. Great mounds of earth,
mixed with broken pottery, a few pieces of broken statuary
and sculptured idols, that have been picked up here and tftere
by the natives, and this
OBEAT STATUE OF REMESES II.
Is all that remains to tell where so much greatness, wealth
and power once flourished. Let us approach and examine thif
fallen monument. It stood upon a great pedestal, around whicb
the ruins had accumulated to the depth of several feet; fron
tnis the colossal statue lifted its gigantic form forty-three feel
high—the figure of a man, the face supposed to be a likeness of
Remeses, to whose memory it seems to have been erected. Itii
A MAJESTIC STATUE. 179
taived from one eingie block of silicioua limeatone, very hard,
and susceptible of a fine polish. The front of the statue only
was finished, the rear portions of the block being left in a rough
state. Around the neck hangs an amulet or breastplate, on
wh\ch is traced the royal name of the king, supported on one
aide by the god Pthah, the image of creative power; on th
other, by the emblem of Truth. Around the waist is a girdle ;
on the center and at the side of this girdle are affixed the royal
prenomcn. In his hand he holds a scroll, bearing at one end
his name, Amun-mai-Eemeses; at his feet, standing at one side,
reaching a little above the knees, is sculptured from the same
block the figure of a little girl, said to be his daughter.
Thus the statue stood, lifting its majestic form in towering
altitude, like a great presiding deity of the place. How is it
now ? Alas, how fallen ! It has been broken off at the base,
and lies face downward, half-buried in a dirty pool of water,
and during the inundations of the Nile, is nearly overflowed.
A half-dozen naked Arab children were indulging in a bath—
it could hardly be called an ablution—^in the dirty pool of water
at its base. As we came suddenly upon them, they shrieked
and ran like frightened animals ; some of them, in their terror,
leaving their scanty wardrobe behind, and it was sometime be¬
fore we could coax them to return. The head lies sufficiently el¬
evated, turned a little to one side, to get a good view of the face.
It bears a sweet expression of mildness and amiability, though
the sculpture is certainly of a very rude kind, far from the dig¬
nity and grace of the more modern Grecian school.
MOVING IMMENSE BLOCKS OF STONE.
Now let us sit down upon this prostrate image, and see if we
ean reconstruct some of the ancient edifices, and trace the out-
dnes of some of the wonderful and instructive places that for¬
merly adorned this now ruined locality. First mark the enor¬
mous size of this sculptured block of stone upon which we are
sitting. By what Titan power was it brought from its far dis¬
tant quarry and reared on end upon that great pedestal? X
have often heard it remarked that the ancient Egyptians, ex¬
ceeded in mechanical skill and power, to move heavy masses the
180 EGYPT AND SINAÍ.
men of modem days. As to their skill, they certainly luui
great ingenuity and capacity; but it was the skill of pow^
rather than taste and beanty. Their works were colossal,
as their ruins attest, but they are far from possessing the grace
and beauty of modem days. As to the superiority of their
power, what proof have we that they excelled us in that? I
have frequently seen it asserted, that modem nations have no
machinery, and that there is no known power, by which such
immense masses of stone can now be moved, as the ancieni;
Egyptians took from the quarries, and elevated in their monu¬
ments. One recent traveler thinks that modem times are mu<^
given to boasting, and have achieved some very surprising lex
hibitions of mechanical skill ; but he is sure that there is noUl^
ing so astonishing, and yet so little known, as the means by
which the genius of ancient Egyptian architects accomplis¡yÍ
these works. Another, as he stands by Cleopatra's líeedle, and
gazes upon its towering shaft, asks : "By what means did the *
ancients raise it to a perpendicular position, then elevate it'
twelve feet, the bight of the base, and bring it exactly over the
inverted pyramid on which it rests, and set it accurately^dowä
upon its resting place? Nothing compared with this has been
achieved by modem mechanics."
But what are the facts in the case? I would not detradi
from the ancient Egyptians the credit due them for moving im¬
mense masses of stone. But can modern architects not do it aa <
well as they ? The huge mass of stone upon which we are noir
sitting is forty-two feet long, and from six to eight feet in di¬
ameter ; the shaft of the obelisk at Heliopolis is sixty-eight feet
high, and a little over six feet at the base. Cleopatra's lil'eedhi
at Alexandria is a little higher, and about seven feet , at the
base.^ Now, at the very time the gentlemen whose contrario!
ancient and inodern power we have alluded to, were gazing at
Cleopatra's Needle, there was standing in the Place de la Con¬
corde, Paris, an obelisk consisting of a single shaft of granite
seventy-two feet three inches high, and seven feet six inches at
the base. This immense mass of stone was given by Moham¬
med Ali to the French, and was taken by them from one of
the great temples at Thebes, then removed from IJppei
OBELISK CE LUXOR REMOVED FROM UPPER EGYPT,
now standing in Place de la Concorde, Paris.
BPHTNX IN THB LOUTBIB AT PARIS.
BEMOVING MASSES OF STONE. 183
V
ilgyi>t to the Mediterranean, thence by transports to Marseilles,
thence some six hundred miles to Paris, where it now stands
upon a pedestal more than double the hight of the one on
which Cleopatra's iN'eedle stands. True, its removal was a her¬
culean work, and three years were spent in accomplishing it ;
but it was done, and probably could and would have been done
had it been even more gigantic. Of this obelisk we give an en¬
graving, Models of the machinery by which the immense mass
was erected, are now preserved in fhe museum of the Louvre.
This is also proved by the obelisks that have been transported
to Bome. The obelisk which now stands in front of the Vatican
Is eighty-two feet six inches high, and eight feet ten inches at
the base. It was brought from Egypt by the ancient Romans,
and was found by the Italians in the ruins of the Circus of
Bero. It was set up in its present place in 1586. When it was
determined to remove it to its present position, it is said no less
than five hundred plans were submitted to the Pope by differ¬
ent architects. The work was at last entrusted to Domenico
Tantana. There were employed in the work six hundred men,
one hundred and forty horses, and nearly fifty cranes, the cost
being nearly forty thousand dollars.
But even this was outdone. Another of these obelisks that
was removed to Rome now stands in front of the Lateran
Church. This .seems to be the king of all the obelisks. The
single monolithic shaft, after a portion was taken off to accom¬
modate it to its present place, is one hundred and five feet
seven inches high, and the base nearly ten feet in diameter.
The obelisk at Paris weighs five hundred thousand pounds; this
one, mne hmdred thousand; and there it stands in a modem city,
set up by the skill of modern architects. But how we have
wandered from Memphis. Pardon me, I was only vindicating
the power and skill of modern nations. I do not believe the
ancient Egyptians, or any other ancient nation, excellelp. us.
Modem architects can move as heavy masses of stone as any
people have ever moved.
The country about us for nine miles in extent was covered
oy this great city. The statue upon which we are now sitting,
with others about it, marked the site of a magnificent temple
184 EGYPT AND SINAI. .
It was dedicated to Ptah, their ideal image of tbe Omiupot^
Creative Power. Here, too, divine honors were paid to
THE HUnn APIS.
Here he was kept in a magnificent inclosure and treated as
a god. The peculiarities that distinguished him was a white
mark on his forehead, and some other small spots on his body,
the rest being black. He was kept in great honor and pomp
until he died ; then his body was embalmed and placed in one
of the immense mummy pits of which we have before spoken
Priests appointed for the purpose were then sent through the
land to look out his successor, and when one was found bear¬
ing the requisite marks, he was immediately installed with
great ovations, banquets and demonstrations of joy, m the place
of his predecessor.
Plutarch says Apis was a fair and beautiful image of the
soul of Osiris. Mnevis, the sacred ox of Heliopolis, was also
dedicated to Osiris, and both received the highest honors of
their worship. Mnevis was dedicated to the sun ; Apis to the
moon. Pliny says he was not only looked upon as an emblem,
but was deemed by the Egyptians a god. Here an immense con¬
course of people annually assembled together, and a grand seven
days' festival was held in his honor. The priests led him about
in solemn pomp, and all the people shouted and did him rever¬
ence as he passed. "When his death took place, a public lam¬
entation was instituted, and continued till his successor was
found. Apis, according to Pliny, was not permitted to live but
twenty-five years. If nature prolonged his existence till that
age, he was taken to the fountain of the priests and drowned,
the act being accompanied with pompous ceremonies. His fa*
neral obsequies when dead were no less imposing and costly
than the honors paid him while living. It is said that some¬
times the enormous amount of one hundred talents were ex¬
pended on the funeral of a single beast. Magnificent temples
of other gods covered and adorned the country around us. A
gorgeous temple was consecrated to Venus; another one to
Serapis. Here, too, were the temple and sacred grove of Pro
tens; enormous statues, beautiful sculptures, paved areas, and
THE TEIAL OF THE DEAD.
185
■ivenaes of sphinxes, adorned and beautified the place. While
in imagination we rear up these demolished walls, set up these
fallen statues, and walk through these gorgeous temples, we in¬
voluntarily exclaim : " How was it possible that such complete
desolation could have been wrought?"
THE LAKE AND THE DEAD.
llecall once more the wandering imagination, and cast the
eye along yonder plain, skirted by the sandy desert beyond.
Here was the famous Acherusian lake ; now a solitary marsh
and a dirty pool of water are all that remain. Here was a
beautiful sheet of water, fed by canals, its shores ornamented by
shady groves and beautiful parks. These were the waters
over which the dead were ferried to yonder tombs and sepul¬
chres, the number and multitude of which attest what swarms
of the living must once have been congregated about us. To
this lake the mummied corpse was brought. Forty-two per¬
sons, constituted judges, ranged themselves around the remains
of the departed one. "Has any one aught to allege against
the character of the deceased? " In the scales of justice his life
was balanced. If it was proved he had spent a life of dissipa¬
tion and vice, transit was denied him till his fnends could atone
for him. Those Elysian Fields and those quiet shades of the
departed were for the good alone. If accepted, the ferryman
received the pious freight and bore it beyond the fiood. It was
these Egyptian funeral rites that gave rise to the beautiful fa¬
bles, that were afterwards refined and improved by the Greeks,
:>f the river Styx, Charon and his boat, and the Elysian Fields.
Many of these singular customs connected with the dead,
might afibrd us lessons of instruction now. "When the dead
were placed on trial, any person that chose might bring an ac¬
cusation. If none were brought, or those made were refuted
justification by the judges was received by the relatives with
loud demonstrations of applause. If the body was rejected,
the relatives retired, feeling most keenly the shame and reproach
under which they suffered.
Some were rejected in consequence of immorality of life,
some m consequence of debts left unpaid. They could not bo
186
EGYPT AND SINAI.
allowed to pass to the shades of their fathers with the odinni
of unpaid debts resting upon them. Rejected bodies were
taken back to their desolate homes, and the coffins kept in
various places of deposit, until, by a long series of reliions rites,
sacrifices and offerings upon the part of relatives, their sins had
been expiated, or, if debtors, until their children had accnmn-
lated enough to liquidate the demands ; then they were allowed
to be transferred to the everlasting habitations of the dead.
These obsequies of the dead seem to have been emblematic
of their ideas of future judgment and retribution. I saw in
Dr. Abbott's museum in New York, a magnificent funeral pa¬
pyrus roll, twenty-two feet long, taken from one of the very
tombs of yonder great cemetery. It is most beautifully written
in small hieroglyphics, containing a history of the life of the
deceased, finely ornamented with a number of illustrations or
illuminated sketches, representing remarkable events in the life
of the person, and some of the future scenes through which
he is supposed to pass. In one of these is a beautiful gilt rep¬
resentation of the sacred bull. The deceased is held supported
by two or more gods. In another place in the roll is a picture
of the Hall of the Two Truths, with the god Osiris sitting in
judgment, assisted by the forty-two judges, standing near him.
Before him appears the soul of the deqpased, accompanied by
Anubis, the guardian of the tombs, and the Ibis-headed god
Thoth. This god has been writing down the history of the
departed, and has collected all his good deeds. The result ie
made known by the god Thoth to Osiris, who awards such
punishment as he and his forty-two assistants deem best.
No position of wealth or rank purchased exemption from
the stern award of these forty-two judges. The king and the
beggar must alike stand the test. Diodorus tells us of Egyp¬
tian monarchs having been condemned by this tribunal, and
^their bodies refused a ferriage across these waters. Nor was
this without effect on their successors. It made them stand in
awe of so disgraceful a censure after death. The dreaded
stigma attached to it often promoted virtuous conduct and
created a laudable ambition to secure the good opinion of their
subjects. That lake, ana those judgment scenes, have lessons
AN AFFECTING MEETING. IbT
(brus. Vividly do they remind us of the Christian's Jordan
of death, and of our transit to the presence of the great Judge
of all the earth, and the solemn awards of an impartial tri-
Dunal. But this was not merely a city of gods, and temples,
and statutes ; here was
THE PALACE OF THE FHABAOHS.
In this, the capital of Lower Egypt, these renowned princes
held their court From where we now sit went out the law
that governed the land. Here princely banquets were held,
and royal processions marched in regal pomp. Ay, this very
block of stone on which we now sit was the representative of
one of these royal monarchs. He, like his throne, his kingdom
and country!^ has fallen. Alas, how changed the scene ! Again
history lifts the vaüj and the strange records of the past are
floating by. Here Joseph was exalted and honored. How
strangely these Hebrews have been elevated into power in
different lands, and at the courts of different kings. Joseph, in
Egypt; Daniel, in Babylon; Ezra, in the court of Cyrus;
Nehemiah, in the palace of Shushan ; Esther, in the roya^
chamber of Ahasuerus. God's people have never failed to
have a friend at court, when it has been necessary for their
comfort or protection—^yes, and they have an ever-living one
at the great court of the universe, who has power to prevail for
them.
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN.
Rear up again the walls of yonder palace, that stood just on
that «minence before us, where those palm trees give shade to
that miserable Arab hut. Look in through the open gate and
witness the scene that is transpiring there. Eleven rough
looking strangers are gathered around the piime minister of
Egypt. He looks angrily upon them, and speaks harshly to
them. They are accused of deception and perfidy. Indeed,
the silver cup had been found in the sack of Benjamin the
fouuger, and him the stern authoritative prince threatens to
detain. He was the youngest son of a doting father, and his
brothers well knew the struggling emotions of the old man's
heart at parting with him, and the fears he had expressed that
188
EGYPT AND SINAI.
lie should see him no more. Judah, the elder brother, now
stands forth to plead their cause. The solemn pledge he had
given his father that he would bring Benjamin with him, made
him earnest ; the fears and anxieties that agitated his breast,
made him eloquent. What an earnest plea ! How ingenuous !
how touching! how pathetic! "0 my lord! let thy servant,
I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's ears, and let not thine
anger burn against thy servant, for thou art even as Pharaoh."
He then rehearses in plain and simple language the account of
their former visit, and how they' had been denied another
audience, unless Benjamin was with them. "And our father
said, go again, and buy us a little food. And we said, we
cannot go down if our younger brother is not with us. And
thy servant my father said unto us : Ye know hoy that my
wife bare me two sons, and the one went out from me, and I
said, surely he is torn to pieces, and I saw him not since. And
if ye ask this also from me, and mischief befall him, ye shall
bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Now,
therefore, when I come to thy servant my father, and the lad
be not with us, seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life,
it shall come to pass, when he seeth the lad is not with us, that
he will die : and thy servants shall bring down the gray hairs
of thy servant our father -with sorrow to the grave. How shali
I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me ? lest perad-
venture I see the evil that shall come upon my father."
His plea was unaffected, unstudied, unadorned. He supposed
he was addressing an utter stranger to his father's family ; and
had he been a stranger, would not the appeal have been suffi¬
cient to touch the heart imbued with the common feelings of
humanity? Little did he know whom he was addressing!
Little did he imagine how those tender allusions to m father's
gray hairs, and a father's bitter sorrows, were awakening in
that pr me minister remembrances of childhood and youth,
kindling anew the glow of filial afl'ection, and stirring to pro-
roundest depths the living fountains of a yearning heart.
Joseph could refrain himself no longer. The fountain was
full. He cried, " Cause every man to go out from me ; " and hs
stood alone with his brethren. "I am Joseph; doth mj
A SINGULAR PROVIDENCE.
189
father yet live?" And he wept aloud ; and the Egyptians and
the house of Pharaoh heard him. And he fell upon his" brother
Benjamin's neck and wept, and Benjamin wept upon his neck«
Where in all the annals of human events is there a more strik¬
ing picture of brotherly aftection than this? Nature, unadom#»'^,
Dudisguised, giving unfeigned and truthful utterance to bef
emotions. How strange it seems, to be standing upon the very
soil that witnessed that affecting meeting of Joseph and his
brethren. But stranger events than that have transpired upon
this very spot, and even within the walls of that palace we are
now contemplating. God makes the wrath of man praise him,
and even the enemies of his people the instruments of advanc¬
ing the cause of truth and righteousness. From the waters of
yonder river, the daughter of a p/oud monarch rescues a per¬
ishing Hebrew infant.
THS OHIIiD MOSES
Is brought into this very palace. Here he is reared up in
the mjdst of the associations of wealth, royalty, and all the
pomp and pageantry of idolatrous worship. Here ho spent his
boyhood. Here and in yonder city of the priests—^the City of
the Sun, we have before visited—he was educated, and became
learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians. But the sophisms
of their philosophy, the arts of their magicians, and the vailed
mysteries of their priests, could not annihilate in that young
heart the love of his kindred, the knowledge of the true God,
his maker and preserver. Buried for a season this ßurer knowl¬
edge and these holier instincts might have been ; but like a liv¬
ing germ, implanted by the hand of Divinity, they sprung up,
and took deep root in the soil of his sanctified heart. They
flourished, the more vigorously as they lifted themselves above
the rotten systems of philosophy and religion that surrounded
them.
Forty years he shared the honors, the privileges, the emolu¬
ments, the luxuries of one of the most renowned and powerful
courts of the world. But a great question was to be settled,
and the time for a decision had come. I wonder if it was not
just here where we are sitting, under the overshadowing walls
13
190 EGYPT SINAI.
of this great heathen temple, he came, pondering the great
question that, like a crushing burden, was pressing him down?
It was in faith his mother laid him in the bulrushes. That holy
faith of a mother's heart had taken root in his own, atd with
mighty throes was now struggling for the victory : " I am the
son of Pharaoh's daughter. Yonder palace may be mine. The
scepter of power, the honors of royalty, the emoluments and
luxuries of a regal home, are all within my reach. Can I give
them up? Yonder are my people, my kindred; I know the
bitterness of their bondage ; how the earth is stained with their
blood and watered with their tears. Can I become deaf to the
groans of my kindred? Can I renounce the faith of my fath¬
ers ? Can I deny the mother that bore me ? " He bows his
head and buries his face in the folds of his garment. His
strong frame trembles with the heaving emotions that, like a
pent up volcano, convulse his heart. It is but for a moment
Faith triumphs! "With a calm serenity of countenance, a
ñxed and holy purpose of heart, he stands a conqueror before
us. The conclusion is given in the words of inspiration "By
faith, Moses, when he was come to years, refused to be called
the son of Pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather to suffer aMc-
tion with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin
for a season." "Farewell, ye temples of the gods! I have
chosen and will serve a God who shall lay you even with the
dust. Farewell, palace and court ! I seek the honors of a king¬
dom that shall endure when thy thrones and monuments, thy
mighty pyramids, yea, the great world itself, shall have perished
forever."
MOSKS' BETünN TO THIS OOTTBT.
Forty years Moses was an exile from the land of his birth.
He led his flocks in the wilderness ; and in the solitude of thi
desert he communed with God. It was a great change from
princely associations with priests and courtiers, to a monotonoue
attendance upon the flocks of Jethro, in the desolate regions of
Sinai. But he had voluntarily made his choice, and was con¬
tent with his home and occupation. The forty years of Moseii
exile had expired. What changes had taken place in these
MOSES BEFOSE FHABAOH.
1"!
princely mausions none can now tell. But here the king of the
land still held his court. Here Moses, perhaps long forgotten,
once more presents himself in the audience chamber of the
monarch of the land. He was eighty years old ; the vigor of
undocayed manhood was in his step, the dignity of age adorned
nis brow. There was an expression in the whole aspect of the
man that excited reverence and awe, and told in language that
could not he misunderstood, that here was one who came
neither to trifle or be trifled with. He well knew the arbitrary
power of the monarch in whose presence he stood—that he
might be spumed with contempt from the throne or ordered to
execution. But he had not come with his strange commission
from the burning bush, and from the astounding mimcles of the
trembling mount, to be overawed in the presence of man.
Without apology or circumlocution, he performs his errand.
" Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, let my people go."
Then followed such a struggle between the hardness and
stubbornness of a rebellious human heart, and the terrible ex¬
hibitions of power on the part of Almighty God, as was never
Defore or has since been witnessed. Sitting here on this fallen
statue, at the threshold of the very palace where Moses met
the stern monarch of Egypt, how vividly the recollection of
these things is awakened ! How we seem to stand in the very
midst of the plagues that smote a rebellious people! Here
Moses casts down his rod and it becomes a serpent, swallowing
up the rods of the astonished magicians. See yonder river, a
frightful flood of purple gore; swarms of frogs arising from
the wafers; lice, flies and locusts troubling and devouring the
land. Hear the rattling hail as it smites man and beast, when
the heavens shook with awful thunders, and fearful lightnings
ran along the ground. Stand in the midst of the gloomy dark-
oess that eñveloped court, palace, city and all the land; hear the
wailngs that come up from all these numerous dwellings over
their first born, smitten l?y the angel of death. The, magicians
of the land were outdone and confounded; they said: "This
is the finger of God." Here Jehovah taught the impotency of
all the false and idol gods of Egypt. He vindicated his own
192
EGYPT AND SINAI,
omnipotence. Pharaoh was overawed and humbled, and God's
people escaped from the oppressor. What
INSTBUCTIVE I.ES80NB.
What strange sensations one feels in walking over these ruins
of former times ! Here are great mounds, beneath which lie
the wrecks of costly palaces and magnificent temples, with their
altars and their gods. Here all was vocal with the hum of life,
and halls and streets echoed to the tramp of countless multi¬
tudes. How the solitary palm trees make doleful music as the
stray winds of heaven play among their branches. A: few reck¬
less Arabs wander here an4 there in stolid indiflerence of the
past or the future. They have picked up from the ruins a few
fragments of mutilated heads, feet and hands of sculptured
idols, in hopes of gathering a few piasters by their exhibition
to the inquisitive traveler; little thinking that the pile of ruins
they have thus gleaned are a standing comment on the pro¬
phetic declaration of God's word: "The idols of Hoph shall
be broken."
Aqd thou, fallen and ruined statue, from which I have been
permitted to survey this place ! What changes thou hast seen ?
Temples, palaces and gods have crumbled to dust around thee;
thy fellows that held companionship with thee have perished;
and thou, too, hast fallen, never again to rise. Seated upon thy
prostrate form, what lessons I have been taught ! The weak¬
ness and folly of man, the vanity of human greatness and
pride, the power, glory and wisdom of Almighty God, have all
passed before me. Farewell ! Farewell ! Thy grave is dug;
the storms of heaven have pillowed thy head upon the uncon-
ecious earth; the winds of heaven are bringing the sands of
yonder desert, and wrapping them, like a winding sheet, about
thee. Soon even thou, gigantic as thou art, the only remaining
monument of this once powerful and opulent city, will be seen
no inore. Thanks for the lessons thou hast taught me. I will
bear them with me to my far off home in the distant West, and
ponder them there. In ima^nation I shall often visit thee, and
sitting here on thy ruined form trace the hand of God in what
has transpired about thee; and looking out upon the blank
FAREWELL TO MEMPHIS.
193
üiat now exists where this great city once stood, read as upon
a written tablet the great lessons the overruling providence of
ill od has recorded here. Farewell !
THE BETUBN.
A" we were about to leave the place, three or four repulsiv
looking Arabs, in scarecrow habiliments, made importunate
overtures for a backsheesh for showing us what we could not
avoid seeing. Perhaps they looked at it in the light of a tres¬
pass fee for walking over their grounds. We selected the one
who appea*red to be a sort of sheik among the rest, gave him a
few piasters as a sort of peace oftering, bade them good-bye,
mounted our donkeys, turned our backs upon the ancient home
of the Pharaohs, and retraced our steps through the beautiful
palm groves towards Cairo.
ANCIENT EGYPTIAN DOORWAY.
194
EGYPT AND SINAI.
CHAPTER X.
Mosques op Grand Cairo—Citadel and Massacre op tri
Mamalukes—Preparations for a Journey to Sinai.
It is worth something to the tourist, when he plans his ar-
rangements for the day, to know the skies will be propitious.
Such is one of the privileges of this climate. As the songs of a
thousand birds awake you from your slumbers, and the sun
climbs his golden pathway, you feel that the gorgeous heavens
are all his own domain. He ascends in majesty to the throne
of day, and no pavilion of clouds attend his pathway. He rolls
downward and sinks iato the chambers of the west, and no
great mountains of fleecy vapor are piled about him to reflect
the glory of his parting rays. As we are sure of a pleasMit
day, and have a variety of interesting objects to visit, where
shall I take you?
a oabbiaoe dbite.
To-day there are several of us in company, and two ladies in
the party; what mode of çonveyance shall we choose? Here
are plenty of donkeys, but none of them have ladies' equip¬
ments. The Egyptian ladies have a mode of riding very shock¬
ing to the refined taste of our advanced civilization. "We wUi
take a carriage—a luxury not often indulged in by Cairenes,
and there are but few in the place. It is a long, aristocratic
step, in this oriental city, from a donkey's back to a coach drawn
by horses, driven by a swarthy, turbaned Arab, with a young
stripling of the same stock to run behind you and act as valet
Though carriages are scarce, the expense after all is not great,
compared with our own cities. Three and a half to four dol¬
lars and a little backsheesh, will secure the whole establishment,
little page and all, for the day. So jump in with us, and see
JO 93«JJ JÖ "V
■i: kii!»6I>k.
UOSQUE OF HOZEA CAIRO.
MOHAMMEDAN WOESHIP.
197
what there is to be seen. We have been through the bazars,
and around the crooked, narrow streets ; looked upon the strange,
•jld houses, and gazed at wedding and funeral processions, and
aughed at the queer looking costumes—where next?
THE MOSQUES OF CAIRO
Are one of its most striking peculiarities ; we will turn oui
attention first to them. The mosque is to the Moslem what^he
whurch or cathedral is to the Christian in Catholic countries,
always open, and made a place of public prayer. Here the
devout come at all times a day to perform their devotions. Fri¬
day is the Mohammedan sabbath, but the child of the Prophet
does not on this day abstain from his ordinary work, except
duriv.g the hour of prayer, about midday, and then the mosques
are usually crowded.
Cairo contains at least four hundred mosques. They are gen¬
erally built of stone, and to make them more attractive in ex¬
ternal appearance, the alternate layers are of different colors,
first red, then white. If the mosque is large, it is built arouna
a central square or court, like eastern dwellings. Around this
court a portico is built, and in the center of it is a tank or foun¬
tain of water for ablution. A good supply of water seems to
be considered indispensable among Mohammedans to purity of
worship. For this reason, advantage is often taken of foun¬
tains of water along public thoroughfares to erect oratories oi
places of prayer, that travelers stopping to refresh themselves
may not only perform their ablutions, but their devotions.
Structures are built oven the fountains, and a platform raised
with a little monument upon the end towards Mecca, that the
worshipers may know which way to turn their faces when they
kneel.
The side of the building facing Mecca is the most important
one ; the portico on this side is more spacious, and has one or
two extra rows of columns. This side of the mosque is the
place of prayer, and here is usually the main audience room.
A niche in the wall marks the direction of Mecca, and in that
direction the face of the worshipers are always turned. To the
right of this niche stands the pulpit, and on the opposite side
198
EGYPT AND SINAÏ.
of tne room from this niche there is usually a raised platform,
supported oy small columns, on which is arranged a desk or
table, upon which is kept a volume of the Koran, and from it,
on various occasion, a chapter is read to the congregation.
The interior of these mosques is usually quite plain.. Over the
columns running around the interior of the main room is a
sort of entablature, looking much like the fronts of the galle¬
ries in our churches. These are ornamented with various de¬
vices, usHially texts from the Koran, sometimes in stucco, some¬
times carved. Ko representations of animals or men or any
thing that has life are allowed in their ornaments. The floors
have no seats, and are covered with matting, to accommodate
the kneeling worshipers.
All distinctions of rank are laid aside in the mosque. The
rich man may have a servant to bring in a prayer-carpet and
spread it for him, but this is alL On these floors the rich and
the poor pray side by side. " And what respect and privilege
are allowed the women," I hear you ask, " in these arrange¬
ments for the worship of the Prophet?" Did you ever know
any but a Christian land where the daughters of Eve were
treated as intelligent, immortal and accountable beings, bearing
equally with the man the impress of God's .Divine image?
There is no prohibition in the Koran that shuts females out of
th# mosque, but they are taught it is better for them to pray in
private. In some countries they are allowed to enter the
mosques, but in Cairo no females or young boys are allowed to
pray with the congregation in the mosques, or even to be pres¬
ent. Indeed, it is said females here seldom pray at all!
MOSQUE OF AMEB AND MOSQUE OF TATLOON.
The oldest Mohammedan temple in Egypt is the mosque of
Amer, at Old Cairo. This was the site of the ancient Egyptian
Babylon. It was erected about six hundred and fifty years
after Christ, upon the spot where Amer, with his conquering
Saracen forces, encamped, in the first subjugation of Egypt to
the Moslem power. It now stands amid the mounds and rub
bish of the ruined houses that have fallen into decay around it.
It is an object of interest and curiosity, as a monument of the
MOSQUES OP GRAND CAIRO. 19?
architectural taste and skill of those ancient and semi-barhano
times. But that one we have not now time to visit. Let us
tarn our attention to those in the city through which we aro
now driving. Here is the next oldest mosque in Egypt—the
mosque of Tayloon.
Here we must alight and enter. It is something to walk
over pavements where Caliphs, monarclis and military dictators
walked more than one thousand years ago, and there is no diffi¬
culty now in entering a Moslem mosque in Grand Cairo, even
though thou art a Frank and a Christian. Once it was not so ;
these doors were all banned and barred, and no infidel could
cross the threshold. Thanks to French infiuence and authority,
and to Mohammed Ali, for a more liberal policy. One little
ceremony, however, must not be forgotten—do not attempt to
enter with your clumsy, thick-soled boots. Those devout at¬
tendants would lift up their hands in holy horror, and -order
you back as a polluter of their sanctuary. There are always a
number of truckling parasites about the door, with a supply of
slippers for Frank visitors. It would be a commendable act in
them if they did it out of reverence for the sanctuary, but the
cringing beggars only want a backsheesh . li'ever mind, a sin¬
gle piaster will -satisfy them for the use of a pair. Slip them
on and let us enter.
This mosque was founded in the year 879, ninety years befôre
any other part of the city was built. This is shown by two in¬
scriptions in ancient Cufie characters on a portion of the wall
of one of the courts. "Within the colonnades, along the cornice,
above the arches, are ancient Cufie inscriptions on wood. The
Arabic character it is said was adopted A. D. 950, but the Cufio
continued to be used long after, and as late as 1508, both Arabic
and Cufie were employed.
One thing about this ancient structure of special interest to
architects, is the pointed archea employed in its construction.
The origin of the pointed arch, and what people first used it,
has been a subject of controversy. This building it is said
proves the existence of the pointed arch here three hundred
years before its introduction into England. But what care we
for the disputes of builders about the difiereut kinds of archea
200
EGYPT AND SINAI.
and the time of their invention? Let us look about the mosqnt
and be gone. Is there anything more to see? N^othingof
special interest in the interior. It is certainly a dirty, gloom;
looking place. The dust of age and the mold of decay ii
over all its interior, and no pains seem to be taken to keep it
clean or make it attractive. Perhaps these Moslems think no
such aids to devotion are necessary.
But let us ascend the minaret and look out upon the city.
The ascent, unlike any other mosque we have seen, is an exte¬
rior spiral stairway. The exposure of a thousand years have
well nigh ruined it. The stone steps are broken and crumbling,
and the ascent dangerous. But once upon the top you are well
repaid for the risk of the ascent. The.mosque is upon an em¬
inence, and the minaret lifts you far above all surrounding
buildings. The whole city lies at your feet, and you gaze long
and earnestly upon the novel sight. And why was this an¬
cient structure built? Uot merely for a place of worship. It
is a tomb and a monument. In yonder consecrated corner,
protected by an ornamental railing, repose the ashes of Glama
Tayloon. He reigned from A. D. 868 to A. D. 884. Peace to
his sleeping dust ! Earth opens her bosom and pillows alike
upon her cold clay the head of the warrior and saint, the vas¬
sal and the slave.
Get past the door the best you can, for it is not the poor me¬
nial alone who lent you the slippers that will want a back¬
sheesh. "Where should beggars go for charity but to the door
of the church ? and who is expected to give alms if it is not ths
man that prays ? Let us drive to
THE MOSQUE OF SULTAN HASSAN.
And what has this to distinguish it among the four hundred
mosques of the city, that we have selected it for a special visit^
It is said to be the most beautiful specimen of Arabian archi¬
tecture in Cairo, and some prönounce it the most perfect reli¬
gious structure in the country. It was built about A. D. 1350
The materials for its erection were procured, by an act of van
dahsm we can scarcely pardon. Yon mighty pyramid of
MOSQUES or GRAND CAIRO.
?01
Cheops was the quarry whence these stones were brought, its
founder would not scruple to ruin a tomb to build a church.
The usual slip-shod preparation must be observed before we
enter, that the consecrated floor be not polluted with unholy oust.
The interior so much extolled is only beautiful as compared
with similar structures of the city. It has symmetry of propor¬
tion, magnificent arches, and elaborateness of ornament. The
arch on the side of the court towards Mecca has a span of over
Bixty-nine feet. Chains are suspended from the ceiling, on
which are hung lamps of colored glass. But the whole interior
has a dusty and neglected look, that speaks in unmistakable
language of the want of refinement and taste that character¬
ize the Moslem votaries who congregate here.
This mosque is also a mausoleum for the dead. In one por¬
tion of it is a spacious room, covered with a lofty dome of wood,
and ornamented with various devices of plaster work. A space
in the center is protected by a railing. It incloses the tomb of
Sultan Hassan. On the head of the tomb is laid a large and
splendid copy of the Koran, magnificently illuminated with
golden colors. The inmate of that tomb was murdered in this
very sanctuary by the Mamalukes, and the stains of his blood
are still shown upon the beautifully tesselated marble pave¬
ment.
There are several other mosques that are deemed worthy of
special note, but we shall not have time to visit them. In none
that I entered was there any thing to pfomote either cheerful¬
ness or devotion. There is over them all a melancholy air of
neglect and decay, emblematic, I could not but think, of the
downfall oi an effete and decaying system of faith. Let us
drive to
THE CITADEL.
And what is the citadel? It is the fortress of the city, the
tower of its defense, the depository of its munitions of war.
It stands upon a hill, its massive, frowning walls overlooking,
upon one side, the city; upon the other, the great barren desert
that stretches away towards the Red Sea. Let us first ascend
^ on elevated platform, and get a view of the city and surround-
202 EGYPT AND SINAI.
mg country. It is one of the finest that can be obtained. First
cast your eye away across yonder to the edge of the Lybiao
desert, and see the time-defying pyramids, from the top of
which we have before contemplated this land of the Fharaohg.
Once more look up and down the winding pathway of the Kîle,
slowly weaving his serpentine folds through groves of palm
and along green and fiowery banks. Mark the numerous villa¬
ges of mud hovels scattered here and there over the plain.
Then recall the wandering sight, and fix one long, earnest gaze
upon the city of three hundred thousand inhabitants at your
feet. Trace the circuitous course of the walls that inclose it,
the great mosques that rise above the ruins that encircle them,
the multitude of minarets that crown them all, one of the most
marked and striking peculiarities of a Mohammedan land.
How one's thoughts wander, as he thus looks over the land.
He stands gazing like a statue, lost in dreamy abstraction, not
at the grandeur or beauty of the scene, but in the mazes of the
wonderful histories of the past. But we must not stand gazing
from this elevated portion of the citadel ; we came to see the in¬
terior of these old gray walls and towering battlements.
Here is a splendid palace of the Fas&a, to which he can flee,
and where he can shut himself up, when the invaders drive him
from yonder beautiful gardens of Shoobra. Just by it is the
harem, with beautiful fountains and miniature gardens. Around
us, too, are the munitions of war. Here, too, trained bands,
platoons, battalions and brigades perform their evolutions.
Here cannon, swivel and howitzer stand ready balanced to wel¬
come the coming foe. Here fire-arms and side-arms, pike, lance
and spear, bayonet, sword and cimeter, are all in readiness for
the work of death. But ihere are two or three places to which
we must pay a special visit. Let us take a look at
JOSEPH'S WELL
A citadel without water, in the time of ßiege, would be worse
than the doom of Tantalus. The efforts to supply this place
with that necessary beverage is certainly worthy of the pread-
ing genius of the land, in the days of Theban temples and
heaven-towering pyramids. Sultan Yoosef (Joseph) has the
A WONDEEFUL WELL.
203
honor of originating the citadel about the year 1711. He took
down the brick walls about the city and replaced them with
stone. Seeing how easily the city could be defended from this
elevated rock, he commenced the construction of a fortress
here. In clearing away and grading the rock, he discovered
this wonderful well. It had been dug by the ancients, when
none can tell, and was filled with sand and rubbish. This well
18 cut into the solid rock to the enormous depth of two hundred
and sixty feet, and at the mouth, forty-five feet wide. Around
the ^ell is a winding stairway, cut also in the rock, with a par¬
tition wall of the rock left, two or three feet thick, between it
and the well, with occasional holes for windows to look through
into the main shaft. Any one who has been in the interior of
Bunker Hill monument, will at once understand how this well
is constructed. The open passage through the center of that
structure corresponding to the well; the circular stairway
winding round it to the descent here, cut in the rock, by which
the bottom is reached. One of the curious things of the well
is the manner of elevating the water. A large ox is taken
down this winding stairway to near the bottom of the well,
where one of the cogwheel machines we have before described
for raising water is situated. The food is taken down to him,
and he is kept here year after year. Here, deep in these lower
regions, in perpetual darkness and solitude, the patient beast
travels round and round his narrow circuit, turning his screak¬
ing machinery, and putting in motion the long belt of earthen
jars, by means of which the water is elevated for the use of
man. Poor beast ! I felt a sympathy for him in his lonely soli¬
tude, and yet I could not but think he was spending his life far
more usefully than many a more intelligent being that enjoyed
the cheerful regions of light and sunshine far above his head
Turning from the well, we will next pay a visit to
THE MOSQUE OF MOHAMMED ALI.
IJ IS a gorgeous structure—^the finest and most renowned m
modern Egypt. Standing upon the hill of the citadel and in
closed by its rampart of walls, it lifts its proud form high above
all its companions. The whole interior, pillars, walls and arches,
204
EGYPT AND SINAI.
Í8 of beautiful alabaster, brought from the quarries of Tel 0/
Armana. Again we must lay off our shoes and accept tbe
proffered slippers of the attendants who wait at the doors.
The interior shows a departure from the ancient style of archi¬
tecture we have before contemplated. A western taste has left
its stamp on its general oriental features. But the beautiful
material of which it is built renders it truly magnificent. This
mosque is also a burial place. It is the tomb of Mohammed
AU. He had it built during his life, chiefly with the design of
making it a mausoleum for his ashes when his eventful career
of life was over. A conspicuous part of the building has been
set apart for his tomb ; a railing surrounds it, gorgeous decon^
tions have been lavished upon it, and near it lights are kept
continually burning. Here, in pompous state, he reposes, and
dreams no more of rivals, of conquests, or of power.
THE DESTaUCTlOH 07 THE MAMALUKEb.
How come with me to the outside of the mosque, and look
about you. It was just here, within this inclosure, upon thi»
very ground where we are nOw standing, thero was enacted, by
this same Mohammed Ali, one of the bloodiest massacres that
stains the page of history. Of the Mamalukes and their power
and influence in the government of Egypt, we have before
spoken. They were a wily, treacherous race, and Ali well knew
that he was not secure at the head of the government^ with
these perfidious Beys plotting against him. Already the keen-
sighted and watchful Viceroy had discovered a conspiracy^to
overthrow his government and assassinate his person. An ex¬
pedition into Arabia, to deliver the Holy Land from the Waha-
bees, who had taken possession of Mecca and Medina, was
planned.
The elevation of his son, Tossoom Pasha, to the important
command of this expedition, was made the pretext for a cele¬
bration at the royal palace of unusual pomp and splendor, to
which all the dignitaries of the realm were invited, and special
pains were taken to have the Mamalukes present. Little* did
the Beys, cautious and perfidious as they were, imagine the
pait they were to act in the ceremonies of the day. Between
MOHAMMED ALI WITNESSINa THE MA88A0RE OF THE MAMALTIKES
A BLOODY MASSACJRE.
207
f/ m and their Viceroy it was only a strife who should bt first
in some act of treachery and crime to annihilate the power of
the other. "How the sovereign of Egypt managed to so efiectu-
ally allay their suspicions, and how it happened that they were
so deceived, has been a wonder to many.
The first of March, 1811, was the day fixed upon for the_
great feast. The ceremonies were completed—all had passed
pleasantly, and the assured Mamalukes mounted their horses
to retire. To their great surprise, they found the gates shut!
"What does this mean? ' Eor the first tipae a dark suspicion
of treachery flashed across their minds. "We are prisoners in,
the citadel I " But their apprehensions had scarce time to ripen
into fear, when a blaze like the lightning's flash kindled about
them, and the sharp rattle ot musketry, like the sudden burst¬
ing of a thunder clap, broke in deafening peals upon the still¬
ness of the night. From above them and around them, like
the rattling hail, fell the leaden balls of death. Flight was in
vain ; valor availed nothing against an unseen and protected
foe. Those who attempted to fly were picked off by the well-
directed aim of sharp-shooting Albanian gunners. Of all the
four hundred and forty of their chief men who were gathered
here on that fearful night, but one escaped ! Just here where
we now stand was a breach in the wall. Emin Bey leaped his
charger over that gap, and down that fearful precipice head¬
long horse and rider went. It is said a heap of rubbish at the
bottom broke the fall, and into yonder desert he made his
escape.
The deep-laid plan of Mohammed Ali was not confined to
the citadel alone. The noise of the massacre at the palace,
was the signal for an uprising in the city and country. A gen
eral order of extermination was given. Eefuge was denied the
Mamaluke race, under penalties of severe punishment. Their
houses were given up to plunder. It was not until the second
day that àn order was issued for the cessation of this awful per¬
secution and work of extermination. Besides the four hundred
and forty who perished in the citadel with their chief, Ibrahim
Bey, no less than twelve hundred lives were sacrificed in the
fity and surrounding country. It was a treacherous, cold
208
EGYPT AND SINAI.
blooded massacre. It was the end of the Mamaluke power m
Egypt.
THE CHILDREN.
We are lingering too long about the citadel. There are other
sights and places to occupy our time and attention. Cairo is a
busy place, and the people have many ways of making a few
paras, or, if not in want, of passing away the time. There are
street musicians, singing girls and dancing girls, serpent charm¬
ers, jugglers, farce -players and harlequins, public recitations,
romances and harangues. Here may he seen exhibitions and
illustrations of all the passions and affections of the human
heart. The common articles of provision are cheap, the dress
of the laboring classes simple and easily supplied. But do you
notice how few boys are seen in the streets ? Of the wealthier
classes you see very few, either of the boys or the girls, hut the
boys receive much more attention and care than the girls. The
children even of wealthy parents, when they do appear in pub¬
lic, have a most disgusting appearance. Covered with ragged,
dirty garments, faces besmeared with dirt, and hands unwashed,
you at once conclude these Egyptians are the most slatternly
people in the world. But those more intimately acquainted
with them assure us that this apparent neglect of children
arises entirely from another cause. Ho people in the world love
their children more, or treat them with greater lenity and kind¬
ness, than these Egyptian mothers. It is said these affectionate
mothers thus neglect the appearance of their children, and
leave them unwashed and shabbily clothed, particularly when
they take them out in public, from "/ear of the evil eye" They
esteem children the greatest of blessings, and for this reason
they are most likely to he coveted. For this reason, it is said,
mothers confine their boys long in the harems, and some, when
they take them out, even dress them up like girls, because boys
are so much more highly esteemed, and consequently more
likely to be looked upon with jealous or covetous eyes.
"With the poorer classes, while boys are kept in and taken
care of, the girls are allowed to run in the streets, and often per¬
form the most memal and filthy services. It is a common oc-
FBLLAH GIRL AT A WELL
vroRKiNa DBESS.
A ME.íIAL EMPLOYMENT.
211
cupation among the servile women to prepare manure for fuel.
This is done by spreading it out into flat cakes about an inch
thick and six or eight inches broad, and drying it thoroughly
in the sun. This constitutes a great share of the fuel of Egypt.
As you pass the hovels of the poor, it is a common thing to see
the women seated in the dirt, with no implement but their bare
hands, often with jewels in their noses, and great gold-washed
wristlets upon their arms, kneading up like dough this disgust¬
ing compound, patting it out into little cakes and spreading
them on the ground, or perhaps all over the sunny sides of their
hovels, that they may sooner become thoroughly dried. To aid
in this work, the girls from eight to twelve years old are sent
into the streets, and they may be seen at all hours of the day,
slipping around among the camels and' donkeys, often under
their very feet, scraping up the offal with their bare hands, and
carrying, it about in baskets upon their heads, from which it
drips over their person, besmearing them with strange, party-
colored lines from head to feet. Menial and disgusting as this
employment may seem, many of these street scavengers may be
seen at all times of day in the streets of the city.
THE DEBWESHEES.
We forgot to drive to one of the Derwesh mosques and wit¬
ness their strange performances. They are a singular religious
sect, known all through the Mohammedan lands. The most
of them devote themselves to religious exercises, and the lower
orders of them subsist almost entirely by begging. They are
anxious to obtain a reputation for superior sanctity, and many
of them make pretentions to the performance of miracles.
Some of them obtain a livelihood by carrying about upon their
backs a goat-skin of water, selling it by the cup-full to thirsty
citizens, and at religious festivals. They seem to be an inofien-
sive, superstitious class of people. Their devotional exercises
are often of the wildest and most extravagant kind—howling,
dancing, whirling, and on extraordinary fete occasions, wind¬
ing live snakes about the body, and tearing the flesh from them
with their teeth. Their most striking exercises are performed
in their houses of worship, but they may also be seen almost
212
EGYPT AND SINAI.
any day in tlTe streets. There is a company of them now under
the shade of yonder tree just where we are to pass. We will
pause and look at them.
Taking hold of hands in a large circle around a pole or tree,
they commence swinging their bodies backward and forward,
jerking the head and shaking the hands, keeping time to a sort
of murmuring exclamation or guttural grunt, sometimes pro¬
nouncing the name of Allah, and making various devout ex¬
clamations. This is sometime^ continued without an intermis¬
sion for near half an hour, the motions becoming more and
more rapid. Sometimes two rings are formed, the inner facing
the outer, swinging backward and forward toward each other.
As the excitement increases, they toss their hair, foam at the
mouth, scream, and seem to give themselves up to the wildest
excesses of religious enthusiasm. Sometimes one will separate
himself from the rest, pause a few moments as if to balance
himself and collect his energies, and then commence spinning
round like a top, stretching out his arms horizontally, and
spreading out, by the velocity of his motion, the bottom of his
loose dress, like a great umbrella. For twenty minutes or more,
without pause or rest, and constantly increasing velocity, these
religious devotees will twirl with a rapidity truly astonishing,
sometimes, it is said, making fifty revolutions in a minute. But
we have seen enough of this useless religious enthusiasm. It
would be well if such energy and devotion could be turned
into a more useful channel. Here is our hotel, and our day's
excursion is ended.
THE NILE VOYAGE.
February 18íA. My primary object in visiting Egypt, was to
make a journey to Mount Sinai. I had also designed to ascend
the Nile, if circumstances would permit. I found I was too lata
m the season to make the Nile voyage, and then have time to
visit Mount Sinai before the oppressive heat of summer cam«
on. To visit Upper Egypt I should have been here six or eight
weeks earlier, so as to have the journey completed by the first
of March. The voyage up the Nile is said to be an easy onr,
ÜPPEE EGYPT. 21b
und Í3 particularly recommended for invalids. Vest of the
ruins and places of special interest are found in close proximi
ty to the river, so that the fatigues of land travel are avoided.
The Nile boat becomes a floating home, and can be fitted up
with comforts and conveniences, as the taste of the traveler may
dictate or his purse allow. The voyage will require from a
juonth and a half to two months, at an expense for each person
of about two hundred dollars and upwards, according to the man¬
ner of living and the time spent in stoppages and explorations.
The expense for ladies is considerably more than for gentlemen,
and the cost of travel for both has considerably increased with¬
in a few years. Dragomen, boats and supplies of all kinds
necessary for the voyage, can now be obtained in Cairo. There
cannot be a more delightful climate for a winter residence than
Egypt. In the shade it is at no time uncomfortably warm
during the day, while the nights are cool and invigorating, and
the change from night to day not so great as to be uncom¬
fortable.
As I could not visit Upper Egypt, I contented myself in call¬
ing to mind the noble piles of ruins, in the midst of which the
antiquarian revels. There are Thebes, Karnac and Luxor, tall
obelisks, gigantic statues, the time-worn ruins of magnificent
palaces and temples. Here they stand, enduring monuments
of the genius and enterprise of an extinct race. "What should
we know of that people now, but for the architectural monu¬
ments they have left behind them? How much we have
^earned from the moidering-ruins and crumbling fragments
that are scattered over their land ! The tablets of their tombs,
the walls of their palaces, and even the ornaments that adorned
their structures, have become historic records to teach us their
customs, laws and religion. And what results we ^re gather¬
ing from them ! How many important and perplexing ques¬
tions in chronology, history and religion they are settling for
us ! How visibly the footsteps of the Almighty are seen here !
What legible traces his invisible hand has left here, and how
strangely, after centuries have elapsed, he has taught posterity
to read them ! In how many ways they record their testimony
214
EGYPT AND SINAI.
to his directing Providence, and conspire to establish the truth
of his written word !
PREPABATIONB FOE A JOtTENEY TO MOUNT SINAI.
A journey to Mount Sinai is always a hard and toilsome one,
so much so but few undertake it. All the way you must pass
through a waste and barren desert, often among hostile tribes.
I was gratified to find the road was now open, and the Arabs
friendly, and I immediately set about preparing for the jour¬
ney. This is quite difierent from a voyage up the Nile. There
J our highway is a sea of sweet waters, from which you may at
any time slake your thirst; on your right and on your left are
the green and flowery banks of one of the most productive val¬
leys in the world ; while your larder may at any time be filled
with the choicest productions of flesh and vegetables from the
villages about you. Upon the Sinai route how different!
The camel is your ship upon a wide ocean of drifting
sands, barren hills and craggy, desolate mountains. All
your supplies must be taken with you—your water, your tent
for a house, your beds, provisions and all requisites of every
kind.
The first step to be taken is to employ a Jiagoman. These
are numerous, and follow your steps at every turn around your
hotel, so long as there is any prospect of getting employmeiit.
They are of various nationalities, with corresponding costumes.
But whatever tongue they speak, or whatever may be the cut
of their garments, or the color of their turbans, one thing they
all share in common—they are liars and extortionists, and will
swindle you if they can. I confess I visited these shores under
the impression that they were an abused and slandered clase
of men, but after having had a few lessons of personal ex¬
perience, I will not turn lawyer to put in a plea for their integ¬
rity of character. One requisite will be found a great conveni¬
ence—you not only want a man who can talk good Arabic, hut
good English. Many of them have only English enough to
transact the ordinary business of the journey. If they have s
good knowledge of English, it will very much facilitate your
CONTKAOT WITH OÜE DRAGOMAN. 215
intercourse among ihe Arabs, and aid you in gathering much
useful information from them.
A BARGAIN MADE.
130on found two associates for the journey; a dragoman was
selected, and we met at the office of the American Consul
where the following contract was drawn up, signed, witnessed
and recorded :
This agreement, made February 19th, 1861, between D. A. Randall,
E. P. Baker and Algernon Lempriere of the first part, and Mohammed
Shrik of the second part: Witnesseth,
1. That the said Mohammed Shrik agrees to take the said parties of
the first part from Cai^ to Mount Sinai, and back to Suez—the camels
for trausportation to leave Cairo on the 21st of February, and be at Suez
on the 24th of February.
2. Mohammed Shrik agrees to furnish all needed camels or dromeda¬
ries, drivers, a good cook, and all assistance necessary for the parties of
the first part—a good double tent, bedsteads, clean beds and bedding,
together with all necessary provisions, including meats, vegetables,
fruits, figs, dates, oranges, etc., etc., all to be of the best quality.
8. Mohammed Shrik also agrees to furnish all needed protection, and
any escort that may be necessary for the security of the persons and
property of the parties of the first part, to pay all the expenses of said
journey, to pay all contributions, fees, presents, backsheesh or demands
that may be made by any sheik or sheiks or Arabs on the route, to pay
all charges and demands whatever arising out of said journey to the con¬
vent of Mount Sinai, and returning therefrom.
4. It is also agreed that the parties of the first part shall pay their
own railroad fare from Cairo to Suez, and also third-class railroad fare
for the said Mohammed Shrik from Cairo to Suez, and from Suez back
to Cairo, on their return. They also agree to pay any present or fee»that
may be demanded by the monks at the convent of Mount Sinai, for any
privileges the party may enjoy in visiting or stopping in said convent.
5. It is also agreed that the parties shall proceed to Mount Sinai by
the way of Ain Hawarah, Wady Taiyibeh, Wady Feiran and Wady
Rahah, and return by Wady Es Sheik and Sutabit El Khadim. In sup¬
plies of provisions, a good and full meal shall be furnished in the morn¬
ing, a cold lunch at noon, and a good dinner of soup, two courses of
meat, vegetables, and desert on encamping for the night. It is also no-
216 EGYPT AND SINAI.
derstood that the parties of the first part shall have the privi'of
sleeping in the tents while stopping at Suez and Mount Sinai, if thej
prefer to do so.
6. Mohammed Shrik shall be allowed twenty-three days for the per¬
formance of said journey from Cairo and back ; and all stops and hind¬
rances not demanded or made by the parties of the first part, and all
damages or accidents to camels or luggage, shall be at his expense. The
parties of the first part shall be allowed to remain two full days at Mount
Sinai; and Mohammed Shrik agrees to act as interpreter and assistant at
the convent, and in ascending the mountain at Sinai, without additional
compensation.
T. The parties of the first part agree to pay Mohammed Shrik, for the
performance of this contract, seventy-five pounds sterling, or twenty-five
pounds sterling each. Forty-two and one-half pounds of the above
shall be paid on the signing of this contract, and the balance on the re¬
turn of the parties to Cairo, the payments to be made at the office of the
American Consul in Cairo ; and the above amount of seventy-five ponnde
is all the said Mohammed Shrik shall be entitled to receive for the per¬
formance of said contract.
8. Any differences of opinion that shall arise with regard to the mean¬
ing or fulfillment of this contract, shall be settled at the office of the
American Consul in Cairo, and the decision of said Consul shall be final
in the matter.
Dated at Cairo, February 19th, 1861.
(Signed by the parties of the first part)
(Sealed by Mohammed Shrik.)
"Witnessed by the Clerk of American Consul,
and the Seal of the office attached.)
For witnessing and recording this contract, the Consul
charged us five dollars. This done, Mohammed was left to do
all the rest—procure the escort, tent, supplies, and all other
requisites. It was only necessary for us to see that the supplies
were such as we were willing to accept. The first thing he
does is to procure the services of one of the sheiks of the Ta-
wara Arabs, that inhabit the desert between» Suez and Mount
Sinai. Some of these are generally watching around the ho¬
tels for opportunities of this kind, and he was not long in se¬
curing the services of one. Without this arrangement, it is not
safe for a traveling party to attempt to pass through their ter¬
ritory. It is .a sort of tribute levied upon the traveler througl"
ARBANGEMENTS TO VISIT SINAI. 21"
tUeir dominions, and also secures safety from all molestatitn by
tJie tribe. How much he paid the sheik for this escort, I was
never able to ascertain. This sheik had several camels and one
or two men with him, which our dragoman also hired, and
thus the sheik was enabled to make something more out of the
journey.
LETTER FROM THE GREEK CONVENT.
The convent at Mount Sinai is a branch of the Greek con¬
vent at Cairo, and no one can gain admittance to the convent
at Sinai without a letter of permission from the Patriarch at
Cairo. To procure this letter from the Patriarch, a recommend
from the resident consul of the nation to which you belong is
necessary. "We went first to the ofiice of the American Consul,
who furnished us a brief letter of introduction to the Greek
Patriarch, for which he charged us two dollars. With this
letter, and our dragoman for guide and interpreter, we pro¬
ceeded to the Greek convent, and after considerable delay and
ceremony, obtained admittance. While waiting for the Patri¬
arch, a servant brought in a waiter with a dish of preserves,
and tumbler^ of water and arrack. There being only a priest
present, and he an Italian, and we unable to understand him, we
made several ridiculous blunders before he could make us un¬
derstand how the preserves were to be eaten.
We were at last relieved from our embarrassment by the en¬
trance of the Patriarch. The conversation between him and
our dragoman was carried on in Arabic. We could not under¬
stand a word spoken, but we soon discovered there was some¬
thing wrong. The controversy waxed warmer, there was a
cloud and a scowl on the old Patriarch's brow, and we saw evi¬
dent indications of a gathering storm. At length our drago¬
man turned to us : " There is a difficulty in getting our letter
on account of the sheik I have employed. You can go down
to the gate, and the donkey boys will take you to the hotel.
Leave the matter to me. It is my business ; I will see it set¬
tled." This was all we could leam of the matter, and we took
our leave.
We ascertained afterward that our sheik lived in the desert,
218
EGYPT AND 81NAI.
near the convent; and in his jonrneys to Cairo had borrowed
money of the Patriarch, under the pledge that he would pay it
by using his camels to carry provisions back to the convent in
the desert. Now, having an opportunity to get a cash job
from our dragoman, he had deserted the Patriarch, and left him
to get his supplies forwarded in some other way. The eias-
perated old dignitary immediately sent out an officer, had hira
arrested, and cast into prison. It cost our dragoman a whole
day's running and pettifogging to procure his release. A satis¬
factory arrangement was at last made, and he was set at liber¬
ty. The necessary letter was furnished, for which the Patriarch
charged us one dollar and twenty-five cents.
DEPABTURE FOB SUEZ.
Preliminaries were at last settled and arrangements com¬
pleted. Sheik, camels, drivers, tents, water and provisions, left
for Suez Friday, February 22d, to be at Suez on the evening
of the third day. We were to proceed thither by railroad at
our leisure. The construction of this railroad from Cairo to
Suez, saves the traveler three days of desert camel ride. It
has but recently been constructed, and now makes»a continuous
line of railroad from Alexandria to Suez, by way of Cmro.
Thus the Mediterranean and the Red Sea are now connected,
and the difficulties of the East India passage greatly dimin¬
ished. The traveler from Cairo to Suez now accomplishes in
a few hours what formerly took three days, through a desolate
and barren desert of sand.
A BIDE UPON THIS BOAD.
At the time appointed we were on board the cars, bound foi
Suez. The distance by rail is eighty-three miles. On this road
there are three classes of fare—about two, five and eight dollars.
Leaving the depot, and the queer looking, jabbering multitude
that may at any time be seen congregated there, we plunged
immediately into the immense, gloomy desert. Cairo, with her
citadel, minarets and beautiful groves, seemed to glide away
behind us, and soon the wide waste of sands, like a boundlMS
ocean, completely shut us in. The monotony of the desert ia
A EIDE IN THE DESERT. 219
broken sometimes by gentle undulations of the surface, and oc¬
casionally by low ranges of bills. But every where the same
ftwful sterility meets the eye. No human habitation, unless you
chance to meet the low, black tent of sonie wandering Bedawin
—no groves, no shrubbery, not a tree to relieve the gloomy mo¬
notony of the scene. For the accommodation of the railroad,
two or three stations have been established, and a few hovels
built, the inmates of which are supplied with provisións and
water brought by the cars from Cairo. What a contrast to the
green valley of the Nile, in which we had been making donkey
excursions! Onward our iron horse dashed, with the strength
and endurance of a whole caravan of camels; defying the
scorching rays of the sun above, and the burning solitude of
sands beneath. At last a stony ridge of high lands rose up
upon our right, and a dark blue line lay stretched across our
pathway. Those were the mountains of Attaka, and this was
our first glimpse of the waters of the sea that opened its
waves beneath the outstretched rod of the leader of Israel.
And now we began eagerly to recall to remembrance Migdol,
Baal-Zephon and Pihahiroth—the children of Israel coming up
in multitudes, led by the mysterious cloud, and encamping by
these waters. Perhaps over this very spot, where we now ride,
that wonderful cloud floated; perhaps on this very spot it
rested. But while we are absorbed in these remembrances, we
have reached our destination. The cars have stopped. Here is
SUEZ.
This spot, from the very nature of the locality, seems des¬
tined as a resting place for travelers. • Situated upon the head
waters of the sea—a place for embarkation whenever there is
any traffic upon its waters—the gate of entrance to the great
Sinaitic peninsula, and since the establishment of Mohammed-^
anism, a rallying place for pilgrims upon the great caravan
route' from Grand Cairo to Mecca. There has been a settle¬
ment here in some form from time immemorial. Modern Suez,
a few years ago a small, insignificant town, has, since the ter¬
mination of the railroad here, rapidly increased in size and im¬
portance. • It lies in about 30° of north latitude, and now con >
•220
EGYPT AND SINAI.
tains some three thousand inhabitants. It is difficult to concei* 4
of the barreness and desolation that surrounds it. Washed
upon one side by the waters of the sea, the barren wastes of
desert encircie it upon the others. There is no fresh water
within several miles of it, and then a very scanty supply. Most
of the water used by the inhabitants, and all used by the en¬
gines, is brought from Cairo on the cars, and all the provisions
are brought in from abroad. No green thing is seen in the vi¬
cinity, not a grass plat, not a tree or a shrub, to relieve the
gloomy, sterile monotony of the place. ^ To the biblical student,
the chief interest arises from the fact of its being the supposed
nlace of
THE FASSAOE OF THE ISRAELITES.
It is Sunday. No Christian church opens its inviting doors,
no Sabbath bell calls us to worship. Let us take our Bible and
wander along the shore, and ascend yonder elevation, and see
if we can trace any of the landmarks by which this place can
be identified with the wonderful records of scripture. Jnst
here, near the depot, and only a few minutes' walk from the
town, is a high mound, said to be a portion of the remains of
the old ruined town of Kolzim, that formerly existed here. The
Pasha is now erecting a house upon it. We can not, only as¬
cend the hill, but the house also, which will give us a good ele¬
vation from which to survey the surrounding countiy. The
sea just before us is now only about a mile broad, and quite
shallow. Vessels of deep draught anchor about five miles
below, and a line of shoals extend all along this portion of the
sea. Great changes are supposed to have taken place here
during the last four thousand years. Geologists tell us there
has evidently been an elevation of this portion of land about
the head of the Red Sea, causing an apparent diminution of
the waters, so that the sea is not only much narrower than for¬
merly, but also reaches a far less distance to the northward.
That such physical changes do sometimes take place, is a well
known fact. About the region of Alexandria, there has evident¬
ly been a depression of the land, so that portions of the catacombs
that were formerly dry, are now submerged in the waters of the
EVIDENCES or THE DELIVERANCE. 221
Mediterranean. Again, the constantly drifting sands are en •
oroaching upon the sea, and in these shallow waters great
changes may have taken place, in some thousands of^years.
ñ >m this cause alone. But how does it now correspond with
THE BIBIiIOAL NABBATIVE.
Turn your face in the direction of the sea. We here stand
lipon a peninsula—a flat point of land projecting into the sea.
Upon our right, only a mile or two distant, stretching like a
great wall from the sea far back into the desert, rises the moun¬
tain range of Jehel Attaka. Upon our left, a portion of the
sea comes winding around, presenting a harrier of waters upon
that side. Behind us, for near a hundred miles, stretches away
the great desert over which we have been riding.
Suppose Moses to have come up with the armies of Israel,
and encamped in this place—and the position is certainly a fa¬
vorable one—•vçifh these mountains upon his right, the sea
before him, and hooking around inland upon his left, and the
advancing army of Pharaoh coming up from the desert in his
rear, how could he escape but by a miracle ? Pharaoh said of
them: "They are entangled in the land, the wilderness hath
shut them in." How accurate the description I If an invading
army desired to drive their enemy into a position where they
could eflectually cut off all retreat, what better position could
they have wished ?
The names found in this locality, and that seem to have
come down from remote antiquity, also unite their testimony
with other things to mark this immediate vicinity as the place
of this remarkable passage. This range of hills upon our right
is called by the Arabs Jehel Attaka, which means the Moun¬
tains of Deliverance. A valley among these hills is called Ba-
deah, the Miraculous. The range of mountains upon the oppo¬
site side of the sea is called the Jehel Tib, and a valley, "Wady
Tib—the Mountains of the Wanderings, and the Valley of the
Wanderings. Nearly opposite us is Ain Mousa, the Fountain
of Moses; and lower down upon the shore of the sea is Ham-
man Pharoun, the Baths of Pharaoh, said to have derived their
name from the destruction of his hosts. Thus these signifi
15
•222
EGTFT AND SINAI.
cant names seem fixed to these places to perpetuate the remem«
brance of the scripture narrative; while the Arab trib^ have
all retained rude accounts of the events in their traditions^ 1
could not but consider the names attached to these localitíss,
and which have been handed down from remote antiquity, as
the Handwriting of the Almighty, for the perpetuation of the
knowledge of the Wonderful events that have here transpired,
HOW THE PASSAGE WAS EPPEOTED.
"We have no dispoedtion to disprove the miracle, or detract
fh>m its greatness and wonder. That an astonishing miracle
was wrought, there can be no questioqZ And yet the narrative
plainly informs us that God made use of known and common
agencies to accomplish his purpose. The tide here rises several
feet. Though no mention is made of this in the sacred mcofd,
it might have been among the means employed. The Lord
brought a Wind, which drove the waters back^ and he held
them by his pöwerfiil hand until he Was ready to return them
to their accustomed place. The pomtion of the waters and all
the surroundings, seem to conspiré to fix the locality of this
great deliverance of Israel, and signal overthrow of their ene¬
mies, in this immediate locality. And now, standing upon this
eminence, in full vieW of all that is trîmspiring, let us witness
the wonderful passage.
All around us, thickly covering this great plain. Stood the
many thousands of Israel. How cast your eye back upon yon¬
der desert. It is dark with the pursuing hosts of Egypt.
There is Tharàoh and his men, his horsemen, and six hundred
chariots, thirsting for vengeance upon the escaping foe. Con¬
sternation seizes upon the hosts of Israel; they see no way of
escape ; the stoutest hearts be^n to tremble. The clamor of
the multitude reaches the ear of Moses, "because there were
no graves in Egypt hast thou taken us aWay to die in the Wil¬
derness." But Moses, with the experience of eighQr years,
stands like a pillar of strength—calm and unmoved. His les
sons at the Mount of God^ the wonders of the burning bush,
the revelations of Jehovah in the court of Noph, were not to
A illBAGÜLOIJt DELIVEBANGE. 223
b« fo..^otteii in this stem hour of trial. "Fear ye not, stanf)
etin, and see the salvation of God."
Now that mysterions cloud, the pavilion of the angel of God,
that had gone before them, lifts heavenward its majestic form,
passes over the camp, and settles down between them and their
pursuers. Do you believe in unseen agencies ? The angel of
God encampeth about them that fear him; and the angel that
guides us in peace, becomes our shield in the hour of danger.
It was a great event, when God in the creation rolled to¬
gether the waves of the great ocean, elevated the land, and
heaped up the mountain barriers, and gave the elements their
boundaries. He who fixed those boundaries, alone has power
to change them. He alone could bring the winds and compress
the waves, and make for Israel a road through the midst of
the flood. " Speak unto the children of Israel, that they go for¬
ward." His Omnipotent hand piled up the waters like ram¬
parts about them, and gave them a safe and triumphant
passage.
THE DESTBUCTIOE AND THE TBIUMPH.
The boasting warriors of Egypt, in the pride of human
strength, reach the sea; in vain confidence they attempt the
mysterious highway of waters. They entered the gateway,
and the portals closed behind them. In the morning watch the
Lord looked upon them, and there was th>uble in their ranks.
The mighty waters came rolling back, and horse, rider and
chariot were entombed beneath their resistless tide !
The morning sun looked down upon the green valley of the
Nile; his light kindled upon the Arabian hills, and glanced
upon the now tranquil waters of the sea. There stood the for¬
lorn and awe-stricken remnant of that great army, that in the
consciousness of strength and the glory of human pride, had
marched out fl'Om the populous cities of yonder plain. They
looked down upon that sea gleaming in the sunlight—^it was
the grave of buried thousands.
But nark, the triumph of Israel! While this desponding
remnant of Pharaoh's host looked out in hopeless despair
npon tne sea of waj;ers, that had become the winding sheet and
224
EGYPT AND SINAI.
monumental tomb of their companions, they had but to lift
their eyes to yonder shore to witness the glad exultations of a
redeemed and rejoicing people. Moses celebrated this great
and signal deliverance by a song of triumph, a part of which
has been translated as follows :
" I will sing unto the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously ;
The horse and his rider hath he whelmed in the sea.
My praise and my song is Jehovah,
And he hath become my salvation.
♦ »»»•••
With the blast of thy nostrils the waters were heaped together;
The flowing waters stood upright as an heap;
The floods were congealed in the heart of the sea.
The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake,
I will divide the spoil; my soul shall be satisfled;
I will draw my sword; my hand shall destroy them.
Thou didst blow with thy breath; the sea covered them;
They sank as lead in the mighty waters.
Who is like unto thee among the gods, O, Jehovah I
Who is like unto thee, making thyself glorious in holiness.
Fearful in praises, executing wonders?
Thou hast led forth in thy mercy the people whom thou hast redeemed;
Thou didst stretch out thy right hand; the earth swallowed them;
Thou hast guided them in thy strength to the habitation of thy holiness."
Not the men only, but the women joined in, the triumph
Then Miriam, the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a tim¬
brel in her hand, and all the women went out after her, with
timbrels and dances :
" Our slavery is flnished, our labor is done,
Our tasks are relinquished, our march is begun ;
The arm of the Lord hath divided the sea;
Jehovah has conquered, and Israel is free.
Proud boaster of Egypt 1 be silent and mourn ;
Weep, daughter of Memphis, thy banner is torn;
In the temple of Isis be wailing and woe.
For the mighty are fallen, and princes laid low."
OOB 0AMEI.8 AND ATTENDANTS WAITINQ FOB THBTB LOADS ÀT SUEZ.
flbst niqht ifi thb deseet.
227
CHAPTER XI.
From Suez to Sinai—•Appearance op the Countrï—^Encamp¬
ments op Israel—'Lipe in the Desert.
While we were absorbed in the reflectians with which the
last chapter closed, and gazing with intense interest upon the
theatre of these wonderful events, the sun was slowly creeping
down the slope of the Arabian hills, and the announcement
was made : " The sheik and camels have arrived ; the men are
putting up the tents just out of the town." So to-night I am
to take my first lesson in camp life, among desert sands, hunch-
badced camels and Bedawin Arabs.
February 25íA. To one all his life accustomed to the com¬
forts and luxuries of civilization, it seems, at first, a strange
thing to lie down to sle^ in a frail tent, amid such surroundings
of desert, Arabs and camels as encompassed us during the last
night. The morning came, thanks to the great Protector of all,
and found us safe. Our Egyptian cook ccmimenced in earnest
the mysteries of his vocation, and by the time we were dressed
had a good supply of smddng viands upon the table.
The first tMng in the process of preparation was the loading
of the camels. What a strange paraphernalia—tents, beds,
bedsteads, meats, chickens, water, manges, stools, cooking uten¬
sils, fuel, provender fm the camels, etc., etc., etc., all to be piled
and fitted on to the backs of these patient looking beasts.
One of the first things to be done was to apportion the lug¬
gage among the camels, and give each his appropriate share.
This is not so easy a thing to do. There are generally several
owners of the camels, each one anxious to get his own beast
started with as light a burden as possible. Such pulling, haul¬
ing, wrangling, chafing, asperity of language and vehemence
228
EGYPT AND SINAI.
of gesticulatiou, that never ends in blows or blood, can be wil
nessed no where but among these children of Ishmael. Onco
or twice our dragoman lost all patience, seized a walking stick
aud pitched into them like a perfect fury, laying about him
right and left, actually cudgeling them into order and submis-
sion. One poor driver received some blows over the shoulders,
the marks of which I am sure he must have carried with him
clear to Mount Sinai. To me it was a novel scene, hut I soon
discovered that our dragoman had pluck and authority enough
for his position, and as we had hired him to attend to all these
little matters, we looked on with as much unconcern as though
we were only passengers, especially as we soon learned it was
their peculiar way of doing business.
OaOBSINO THE SEA.
At last the wrangling ceased ; the luggage was duly appor«
tioned, and each camel had his assigned share of the burden.
Our camels now had to make a circuit of some ten or twelve
miles around the head of the sea. "We could ride around with
them, or take a boat and cross over and meet them upon the
opposite side. "We preferred paying twelve and a half cents
ferriage, for a half hour's ride across the water, to a half day's
ride upon camels in the burning sun.
We loitered about the town until about noon, when an Arab
ferryman took us into his boat, spread his old fashioned lateen
sail to the breeze, and we were gliding over the waters that had
once parted their yielding waves for thè hosts of Israel. We
found the water quite shallow all the way. At low tide the
bottom is laid bare near half the distance. The deepest por¬
tion of the other part of the way might have been fifteen to
J twenty feet. It was a short distance above this that Bona¬
parte, during his campaign into Egypt, taking advantage of
low tide, crossed over on horseback to hold an interview with
the monks from the convent at Sinai, and a delegation from the
Tawarah Arabs. As he was returning, the tide came rolling in
upon him, so that he could no longer keep his seat in the sad¬
dle. A stout soldier seized him, and bore him on his shoulden
to the opposite shore by holding on to the tail of the guided
CAMEL BIDING.
229
horse. Haei it not been for the aid thus rendered, he might
have shared the fate of the Egyptian prince.
"We had not long to wait before our caravan came up. A
hasty lunch from the haversack, and we were ready for our first
camel ride in the desert. Thus far we had been greatly favored
by railroad and sea, but now the stern prose work of the jour
ney must commence. Three camels are generally allowed for
each traveler. ' There being three of us, nine camels were
deemed necessary to carry us and the requisite amount of stores
and luggage. The riding camels are called dromedaries, and
differ only in build and the use to which they are applied. Be¬
tween the camel and the dromedary, as the terms are used here,
there is about the same difference as is made in our country
between the saddle horse and the heavy, stout-buüt draft horse.
A dromedary is a light, fleet-footed camel. All the camels I
saw here have but one hump. Our dromedaries were tall, lank,
rough-looking fellows; the saddles were large, heavy, rude
pieces of manufacture. The three best riding beasts were ap¬
propriated to our use. Each camel carried a pair of panniers,
in which a quantity of grain for his own food in the desert was
stowed. Over these our beds and bedding were piled, so as to
make a soft, broad, easy seat. At the command of the driver,
the tall animal came down upon his knees, and then dropped
upon his haunches, until he lay flat upon his breast-bone, with
his long legs folded in a very peculiar manner close under him.
I was surprised to see with what facility the tall beast humbled
himself for his burdén. A moment more and I was fairly
astride of his back. He lifted himself flrst upon his hind legs,
throwing me violently forward and nearly pitching me over his
bead. I held on to the saddle from behind, and he continued
to open fold after fold of his locomotive organs, raising me
higher and higher, until I was again surprised at the facility of
the ascent and the giddy hight to which I was suddenly ele¬
vated. All was now in readiness, and we were fairly under
way for a long ride over batren plains of sand and among
bleak and desolate mountains.
The motion of the camel is a very peculiar one; he moves a
Bide at a time, like a pacing horse. You are thrown backward
230
EGYPT AND ÔINAî.
and iorwaid at every step of the animal, with a sudden jerk
across the small of the back, that keeps the upper part of the
body swinging backward and forward like a see-saw. This at
first is extremely unpleasant and fatiguing, giving to some per¬
sons a sensation not unlike sea-sickness. But to this the rider
soon becomes accustomed. The speed of our camels was fix)iD
two and a half to three miles an hour, always walking. The
trot of the camel, for the comfort of the rider, is about like that
of a trotting cow. We had, as stated, nine camels, dragoman,
cook, sheik, and thrèe camel drivers, the shçik also acting in
the capacity of driver. The camel of the cook carried a large
quantity of provisions and cooking apparatus, with his bedding
stowed upon it, whüe upon the top of all he contrived to make
a comfortable seat for himself. The dragoman rode in a simi¬
lar manner, while sheik and drivers uniformly walked, two of
them bare-foot—two of them, the dignified sheik included,
wearing the old fashioned sandals of the days of Abraham.
We were now fairly started upon our pilgrimage, and boldly
struck out into the great ocean desert before us. Our course
lay at first directly along the track of the great caravan route
to Mecca. A ride of two and a half hours brought us to the
WELI.S or MOSES.
These are a cluster of springs—a little oasis in the midst <rf
the burning, arid desert. The Arabs call the place Ayun
Mousa, or Fountain of Moses. N^o mention is made of this
place in the journeyings of Israel, but the Arabs have a trac¬
tion that Moses brought up the water here by striking the
ground with his rod. ' Bobinson speaks of a scanty vegetatkai
existing here in 1838, but recently some gardens have been
planted here by persons residing at Suez, who employ Arab
servants to cultivate the ground, watering it from these wella
There are seven of the springs, but the most of the water is
brackish, and unfit for drinking or cooking. Among the trees
we noticed the date-palm, the tmnarisk, the pomegranate' and
the apricot. A woman came out with a few small heads of
cabbage and some eggs, proposing to sell them to our drago¬
man. For the eggs she asked a piaster for three, for the cab
GABDENS OF THE DESEBT. 231
bag« fifty cents a head. Our camels diinked ay little of the
«mter, but did not seem to relish it.
These fountains are upon an elevation of ground, command¬
ing an extensive view of the country around. As I looked out '
over the plain between this and the sea, 1 could not resist the
impression that my eye was resting upon the very ground tha*»
witnessed the joyful triumphs of Israel over their own deliver
anee, and the destruction of their enemies. What an event
was that to this long oppressed and persecuted people. For
two hundred and fifteen years had yon mysterious river heard
their groans, and tiie fertile fields of yonder valley drinked the
sweat of their toil. Now the time of deliverance had come,
and they were on their way to the Land of Promise.
Our visit to this green spot, beautiful, not in itself, but from
its contrast with the desolations that suirounded it, was soon
over. We rode on about two and a half hours, and encamped
for the night upon the broad plain of sands that stretches
from the sea-coast away towards the Jebel et Tib. Our cook
soon had a good supper upon the table—for we had a real table,
which our dragoman had brought out for our use ; we ate with
a relish labor only can give ; retired early, and slept soundly
and securely.
SECOND DAY.
This morning we were under way soon after seven o'clock.
We were traveling in a southeasterly direction, over an im¬
mense plain of sand. On our right could be seen the blue strip
of sea, reaching far up and down ; beyond it, the high, naked,
rocky mountains of the African coast. On our left, the moun¬
tain range of Jebel et Tih, that shut in, like a great giant
wall, all this portion of t^e peninsula, while far away in the
distance, rising high above them all, in sullen majesty and
grandeur, was the imposing peak of Tusset (cup) Sudhr, the
ring and crowning glory of the range. All day our course lay
over this monotonous desert of yellow sand, with scarce a tree
or shrub or living thing of green to cheer the eye. The mo¬
notony of the scene was occasionally broken by the undula¬
tions of some wady or shallow water course, dry as the sand
232
EGYPT AND SINAI.
that drifted around us, but where, in rainy seasons, the waters
find their way to the sea. Sometimes the eye was relieved 1^
a bit of table-land that had thus far withstood the action of
the winds and rains, that have driven or washed all around
them into the bosom of the sea. Many of these elevations thus
left here, present a very singular appearance. They were of
various bights and shapes, some of them like conical flat-
topped pyramids, some of them like great frowning towers or
battlements. In many instances, the layers of sand near the ■
surface being harder than those beneath, the softer—portions
were washed away, leaving flat tufts or caps upun the top,
looking like great giant tables in the wilderness. At 6 o'clock
we encamped upon a gravelly soil, in the midst of a succession
of mounds or hillocks. These hills were almost entirely com¬
posed of bowlders and pebbles, all of them having precisely the
rough and mottled appearance of parboiled flesh, most of them
also having a soft and greasy feeling. To-morrow we expect
to visit the bitter fountain of Marah, and are anxious to get an
early start, that we may make a good day's ride.
MARAH, OR AIN HAWARA.
February llth. This morning, between 11 and 12 o'clock, we
came to Ain Hawara, the bitter weU or fountain ; supposed to
be the Marah of the Exodus. The Arabic name, Ain Hawara,
means Fountain of Destruction. In the narrative of the joor-
neyings of the Israelites we are informed: "Moses brought
Israel from the Eed Sea, and they went out into the wilderness
of Shur ; and they went three days in the wilderness and found
no water; and when they came to Marah they could not drink
of the waters of Marah, for they were hitter." How does this
locality correspond with the scripture narrative? From the
fountain of Moses it is sixteen and a half hours' ride, or between
forty and fifty miles. "We cannot suppose the great multitudes
of Israel, with their flocks and herds of little ones, would make
a journey of over ten to fifteen miles a day. This would have
brought them on the third day to this fountain.
During these marches, having found no water, with what ea¬
gerness would they press upon this fountain, as they approached
THE BITTER FOUNTAIN,
233
it, and with what disappointment must they have recoiled from
it when they found it unpalatable, and hitter! hitter: Again the
clamors of the multitude fell upon the ears of Moses : " What
shall we drink? " Moses' refuge and trust was only in God ; to
him he resorted, and on him he called. The waters were sweet¬
ened by the peculiar virtues of a tree, which, by divine direction,
was cast into them.
PRESENT APPEARANCE OP THE FOUNTAIN.
It is situated upon a low mound, or round topped elevation,
only a few rods distant from the direct road. The place where
the water is found, has a very singular appearance. A rocky
looking mass, apparently a kind of mineral deposit, left by the
water during the lapse of many ages, rises up from the mound
like a large, flat looking haycock. In the top of this is a large,
uneven indentation, or basin. On one side the rock appears
to have been split and slightly elevated. In this basin stands a
pool of water. The fountain is only one to two feet deep, and
five or six in circumference. I should not think there were oyer
two or three barrels of water in it. It is green looking, brack¬
ish, salt and unpleasant, tasting something like a weak solution
of glauber salts. It does not overflow, though on one side of
the rocky deposit there is a channel, through which, from ap¬
pearance, the water must formerly have run.
Our camels did not drink it ; though it is said both camels
and Arabs will sometimes drink it when pressed with thirst.
Robinson speaks of seeing here^ in 1838, some stunted palm
trees, and many bushes of a low, thorny shrub, often found in
this kind of soil, called ghurkood. These thorn trees have
now entirely disappeared, and all around the fountain is a bar¬
ren plateau of sand, impregnated with saline particles. A little
distance from the spring is the stump of a palm tree, now near¬
ly destroyed, and a little further off a clump of palm leaves,
green and flourishing. These, with a few scattered desert
weeds, comprise all the vegetation now to be seen in the
place. There can be no doubt but there was formerly much
more, both of vegetation and of water, existing here than at
present. The causes that have been operating in other portions
EGYPT AND SINAl-
of .the desert, of which we shall speak hereafter, have also ex
erted their influence here.
THE SWEETENING OE THE WATEH8.
The greatness of the miracle wrought by Moses in making
these waters palatable, has been discussed by various writers.
Some have been disposed to account for the phenomenon from
natural causes alone ; some contend that there are several veg¬
etable productions that have the property of neutralizing the
unpleasant mineral properties of brackish waters. The Span¬
iards of Florida, we are told, sometimes use sassafras, while
on the Goramandel coast another species of tree is used by the
natives. But can we infer û-om this that any correctives of
that nature were applied here? Others, again, tell us that the
berries of this same species of thorny bush, the ghurkood, that
former travelers found growing here, had the rare property of
sweetening the waters. But admitting that these berries had
this remarkable quality, how could they have been procured at
the time the Israelites came to this fountain. The Israelite.s
left Egypt at the time of the passover, and must have been at
this place only two or three weeks later, and the berries of this
shrub do not ripen till some time in June. Besides, it is not
now known that they possess any such healing quality. Rob¬
inson says when here, he made firequent and diligent inquiries
among the Arabs, whether they knew any process for thus
sweetening water, either by means of b^ñes, or the bark, or
leaves of any plant, and was invariably answered in the nega¬
tive
As I stood upon this elevation, by the side of this strange
fountain, and looked out upon the surrounding country, my
imagination peopled it with the many thousands of Isradi, now
fairly upon their march to the heart of this great deeert, to en¬
camp before the Mount of God. They had seen his wonders
in dividin.g- the great waters; the strange miracle of sweeten¬
ing the bitter ones. Here God pnrved them, and here he made
for them a statute and an ordinance. Here he spoke to them
And said : " If thou wilt diligently hearken to the voice of the
Bord tliy God, and wilt do that which is right in- his sight, and
AN OASIS IN THE DESERT. SSí»
«7Ílt give ear. to Ms commandmentSj and keep all Ms statutes, I
will put none of these diseases upon thee whieh I baye brought
upon the Egyptians, for I am the Loi'd that healeth thee."
They were now put upon their good behavior, with the promise
of blessing and protection for obedience. Gôd had loosed their
bonds ; by Ms power they had been delivered, and now they
were peculiarly his people. "We are now to follow upon their
track, and have other places of their encampments to visit.
By reference to the map, the different stations and the general
course pursued can be readily seen. From Marah a ride of
about two hours and a half brought us to
WADT GHURUNDEL OR ELIM.
This is supposed to be one of the camping places of the Is¬
raelites mentioned in the Exodus. " And they came to Elim,
where were twelve wells of water and three score and ten palm
trees, and they encamped there by the waters." Exodus xv.
27. From Ain Hawara this would have been for them about
a half days' journey, and being one of the best camping
grounds in all this region, it is not probable the^ would have
passed it without availing themselves of the luxury of its shady
trees and refreshing waters. The principal fountains are about
half an hour's ride down the valley from where the direct road
crosses.
We had taken a good supply of drinking water from the
"sweet" Nile at Cairo, and had no need of replenishing our
stock. We, however, made a visit to these fountains. We
fonnd no streams of running water, such as other travelers
have described as existing here. The wells, or springs they
should rather be called^ are made by digging in the dry chan>
nel a hole from one to two feet deep, and the water filters in
through the sand and gravel. The earth around seemed im-
'pregated with saline particles. The water, though called sweet,
had an earthy, brackish taste, far inferior to our Nile water.
The camels drinked it freely.
There is more vegetation here than we had found in any
place since leaving the valley of the Nile. But I could not, as
many travelers doj go into raptures over the beauties of these
236
EGYPT AND SINAI.
occasional oases, that relieve the cheerlessness of the barren
desert. In a fertile country, they would be comparatively deso¬
late places ; but abounding in the midst of these arid wastes,
they are welcome and cheerful spots. "While the whole
desert," says one, "is almost absolutely bare and barren, Wady
Ghurundel is fringed with trees and shrubs, forming a charm¬
ing oasis. Here are the stunted palms, with their hairy trunks
and disheveled branches. Here, too, are the feathery tamarisks,
with gnarled boughs, their leaves dripping with what the Arabs
call manna. And here is the acacia, with its gray foliage and
bright blossoms, tangled by its desert growth into a thicket.
Pleasant is the acacia to the sight wearied by the desert glare,
but it has a higher and holier interest as the tree of the 'Bum
ing Bush,' and the ' shittimwood ' of the Tabernacle."
The tamarisk that "fringes the valley" is of a sickly and
stunted growth, and far from being abundant. Those that
stand near the water course, give evidence of the powerful cur
rents that wash through this wady in times of freshet, the
lower branches being filled to the hight of several feet with
mud, decayed leaves, bits of brush and the like, that have bèen
left among them as the waters subsided. Those that stand at
a distance from the water-course are choked and nearly suffo¬
cated by the great heaps of drifting sands that lodge around
the roots, and bury their trunks and lowest branches to the
depth of several feet. Many of them are dead and dying from
this cause alone.
The acacia trees have mostly disappeared, and of those that
remain we sought for one that would afford us protectkwi
during the hour of our lunch from the fierce rays of the noon¬
tide sun. But the vegetation of the most luxuriant one was
not sufficient to afford us any thing but partial protection.
The palm trees, that were once the glory of the place, are alsc
passing away. Scarce a vestige of. them is left in the immedi¬
ate vicinity of the springs. A short distance above, just whew
the main route crosses, a few of them are found, but they have
been robbed and dwarfed by the same desolating causes of ne¬
glect and depradation pn one hand, and the hostile power of the
desert upon the other, that seems destined to obliterate from
DECAY OP VEGETATION.
237
these places every green thing. I counted between fifteen and
twenty of these sickly trees scattered here and there ±u the vi¬
cinity of the fountains—all that are left as a memorial of the
three score and ten that flourished here in the days of the Exo¬
dus. The trunk of one lay in moidering ruins upon the ground ;
upon the roots and young twigs of another, the reckless Arabg
had recently kindled a fire, and doonied it to destruction.
BATHS OF PHARAOH.
Ilaving finished our visit at Elim, we passed on, picturing in
our imagination the scene when, nearly thirty-five hundred
years ago, the Israelites pitched their tents in this valley, and
refreshed themselves from these fountains. How different from
Marah ! , There they had bitter water and a scanty supply ; here
they had sweet water, and a well for every tribe, while the date
palm and the acacia spread for them an inviting shade. As
we passed on, at a distance upon our right, upon the borders of
the sea, are the so called Baths of Pharaoh.
It is a warm, sulphurous fountain, springing from the base
of the mountain cliffs, that here constitute the barrier of the
sea. Between us and them were the tall, desolate mountain
range, known in Arabic phrase as Jebel Hurnmam, the Hill of
the Bath. Where these springs make their appearance, the ,
clifis rise almost perpendicularly from the sea to a mountain al¬
titude and sublimity. The temperature of the water is about
150° Fahrenheit. They break out from a lower chalk strata,
nearly on a level with the sea. The water leaves a deposit of
common salt mixed with sulphur. Hot vapors also issue from
the cavernous crevices of the rocks in the vicinity. The Arabs
have a fantastic tradition with regard to these springs. Ac¬
cording to this, they are the bubblings of the last breath of
Pharaoh, as he sunk into the sea, unknelled,< except by the roar
of the mighty waters; unco^fiaed, except by the winding sheet
of ocean foam.
APFXARANOZ OF THE OOUNTBT.
Soon after leaving Elim, or Wady Ghyrundel, the aspect of
the country began to change. It became first more undulating
16
238
EGYPT AND SINAI.
and then br<^en, soon assaming a wild, rough and dreaij as
pect, rising into hills and broken cliffs, and sometimes monn*
tain peaks. Bnt any thing was a rdief from the oppresñve
monotony of the desert over which we had been for three days
traveling. I had expected to find here a desert, and a sterile
one, but I had net expected to find a region so utterly destitute
of animal and vegetable life.
Here you ride on hour after hour, and, indeed, day after day
and all around you is one wide-spread scene of desolation-r-
plains of sand, barren hills, or naked mountain peaks. A few
stubborn-looking, hardy plants, here and there, draw a scanty
sustenance from the penurious soil, and struggle for existence
in the midst of the barrenness that surrounds them. Ko grass
plat, seldom a bush or tree cheers the sight. Ko song of bird
falls upon the ear, no groves spread their branches to play with
the wandering breezes or gather from them a tribute of music
as they pass. Occasionally you may hear the hoarse croak of a
raven by day, or the mode laugh of some prowling hyena by
night, as they seek a meal upon the carcass of some unfortunate
camel that has sunk by the way under the weight of his bur¬
den. Your eyes ache with the intense glare of the sun re¬
flected from the burning sand; you are oppressed with the
gloomy monotony, the profound stillness, the awful solitude
that seems every where to sbut you in. As you contemplate
the scene, you appreciate the kind Providence that in more fa¬
vored climes has carpeted the earth with verdure, and adorned
it with fertile vales and fruitful groves. A ride of a littie more
than two hours from Elim brought us to
WADY USXIT.
Here again we found a few palms, tamarisks and acacia
trees, similar in character to those we have before described.
The ground here was incrusted with a white accumulation cf
salt, and the water that stood in ther pools in the now dry bed
of the stream, was so salt and brackish as to be unfit for use.
From this wady the road branches, and two different routes
lead to Sinai; one by .the singular ruins and sculptures of Su-
rabit el Ehadim, the other by Wady Mukatteb, the "Written
MANNER OF ENCAMPING.
23U
Valley;" our arrangement ie to go by the latter and return by
ábe former, (io for the present we keep the right hand route,
which will lead us to the sea.
In this valley, after a long and fatiguing day's ride, we pitched
)ur tents and made our encampment for the night. It seemed
étrange to be traveling like the snail, carrying all our earthly
possessions upon our backs, or rather the backs of our camels.
There is a kind of freedom about it that gives one an unusual
independence of feeling. We began to understand something
of the immunities of the wild Bedawin, in his free range of the
desert, only that his incumbrances are far less ihan ours. He
is entangled by few ties, troubled with but a scanty wardrobe,
trammeled with a meagre outfit for life, and with but few em¬
barrassments, enjoys the wide domain of his desert home.
The reader may be curious to know something more of our
mode of encamping, and of our arrangements for the night.
As we had generally some sight-seeing to do, and excursions to
make from the main route, and Usually stopped an hour for our
lunch at noon, our baggage camels, with the cook and two of
the drivers, kept directly on without making any stop. In this
way they usually gained a few miles of us in the course of the
day, and stopped and erected the tents at an hour or place
before agreed upon by the dragoman. We had one tent large
enough for the accommodation of three. The dragoman and
cook had a small tent in which they slept, while our escort,
sheik and drivers, took their rest upon a blanket spread upon
the ground in the open air, or crouched by the side of a re¬
cumbent camel. On reaching the camping ground, we usually
found our tent ready, and our supper in process of preparation.
The several classes that attend us aré very punctilious about
the division of labor. The cook will never lift a finger to do
any thing aside from his legitimate duties of preparing the
food and taking care of his household goods. The drivers will
do nothing but load and take care of their camels ; while the
dragoman, as chief captain of the whole, is expected only to
give the word of command, without touching his hand to a sin¬
gle thing. The Arabs seem strangely ayerse to any kind of
hard labor or drudgery, and they go about it with a reluctance
240
EGYPT AND SINAI.
and tardiness peculiarly provoking to one who has any occasioD
for haste. It was sometimes amusing to see our dragoman
whose patience would occasionally come to an end, fly at them
and lay his camel shillalah about their shoulders with a vigor
that must have left its sting behind.
The camels, relieved of their ponderous burdens, were first
turned out for an hour or two to browse, if perchance any green
thing could be found. In most of our camping places there
were» a few wiry, desert shrubs and weeds, from which they
could glean a few mouthfuls. Before dark they were brought
together, made to lie down, and their legs hampered, when each
received from four to six quarts of grain, generally a mixture
of corn, barley and peas. This they ate from a bag tied over
the head, as we sometimes see our draymen in the city feeding
their horses. This one feed was frequently all the poor animals
received in the whole twenty-four hours.
THE ARAB SUPPER.
This was simple and easily prepared. ^ A goatsldn bottle for
their water, a drinking cup, and a small iron kettle that would
hold about five or six quarts, seemed to constitute their entire
outfit. I did not see them have any meat while I was with
them, though they might have procured it occasionally from
other Arabs as they journeyed. They had with them a bag
of meal, I should think a mixture of corn and barley, and a
few dried dates. This seemed to constitute the maiu portion
of their living. In preparing their supper, they first gathered
a little pile of dried roots, or withered desert shrubs, or camel
dung, and kindled a small fire. Then, if the supper was to be
pudding, the kettle was placed over the fire with the requidte
quantity of water, and the meal stirred in and boiled. If bread
was required, the kettle was used as a kneading trough; the
dough was flattened into a cake about one-half an inch thick,
and put into the sand, ashes and embers, and baked. • This, with
a few figs or raisins, constituted their moal, and two meals a day
was all they took. Supper ended, they sat and talked till 9 or
10 o'clock, sometimes having a visitor from the tent of some
LIFE IN THE DESERT.
wandering nrony. At bed time, if the night was not too cold,
they would lay down upon a blanket near their fire. If the night
was uncomfortable, or a cold wind was blowing, they brought
the camels into a sort of semicircle, and made them lie down near
together, and then crouched down close under them, and kept
as comfortable as this kind of shelter and the warmth of the
animals' bodies could make them. It seemed to me like a
cheerless, desolate life.
OUR OWN TARE.
For ourselves, our dragoman had made provision for an am¬
ple supply. The cook had a good outfit—a light sheet-iron ap¬
paratus for cooking, and a supply of charcoal for fuel. Our
tent was comfortable, our beds in good order, and had it not
been for the fieas which seemed to constitute a regular part of
the caravan, traveling when we traveled, and camping when
we camped, we should have had no annoyance that would have
particulaily disturbed our repose.
One camel was specially set apart to carry the water. Two
casks, nearly as large as barrels, were slung by means of ropes
like a pair of panniers across his back. It was, at first, a sturdy
load, but as it grew lighter day by day, other portions of the
luggage was assigned him, and piled upon the tops of the bar¬
rels. We took water from Wady Ghurundel for washing, and
again from Feiran for cooking, but we preferred our Nile water
for drinking to any we found in these wadys ; and using our
stock spar'ugly for other purposes, we had enough to last us
for our common beverage till we reached Mount Sinai. Our
dragoman filled a common leather bottle from the cask each
morning,, hung it upon the horn of his camel's saddle, and from
this we drinked during the day. It seemed strange to be drink¬
ing water we had carried upon the backs of camels for more
than a week and over two hundred miles. At first, I thought
I could never stomach any beverage from those dirty looking
goatskin bottles. But when one finds himself in a desert coun¬
try, parched with thirst, or faint with hunger, it is astonishing
how easily the citadel of fiis scruples as to what he eats and
242
EGYPT AND SINAI.
drinks is demolished; and how he swallows with a relish what«
under other circumstances, he would turn from with disgust'
OUB CHICKENS
"Were among the novel things of our outfit. Between thirty
and forty of them, in a large wicker cage, perched upon the
topmost part of a tall camel's load, rode out the weary days
At night they were set upon the ground, and their door thrown
open, when they sallied out in quest of food and water, stroll¬
ing about the camp, stealing a few barley corns from the cam
els and picking at the cook's delicacies, making themselves af
much at home as though they felt themselves to be a part of
the household. As the shades of evening crept on, they would
huddle again into their little grated prison, and allow the dooi
to be closed upon them. Poor things ! they seemed conscious
it was their only home; they had no where else to go. The
dreary desert offered no inducements to desertion. Happj
chickens, I used sometimes to say, with thee, ignormice is bliss
Daily, from some invisible cause—perhaps the cook could have
explained it—their numbers diminished ; not one of them ever
returned to the land of civilization.
I am detaining you too long with these particulars of life in
the desert. Few travelers think them worth mentioning at all,
and yet they will be of interest to many. Our supper is ready;
sit down with us, and see how you will enjoy a repast in this
lone solitude of the desert. Upon this very ground Israel
gathered manna, and here God sent them quails. He spread a
table for them in the wilderness. Our viands have not beeu
prepared by such direct and miraculous intervention, and yet
we are no less indebted to his unsparing bounty for what we
now enjoy. Let us lift our hearts in gratitude to him.
You see we have good bread. It is French make, and wai
brought from Cairo. "We have enough of it to last us to Sinai,
where we expect to get a supply for our return from the mouki
at the convent. First we have soup, then a dish of roast mut¬
ton, with potatoes and cauliflower. Hext comes a course of
stewed chicken, then a desert of plumb pudding, with orangei
and raisins. This is followed by a good cup of coffee, witfc
THE SINAITIC PENINSULA.
243
6ugar, and goat's or camel's milk, if the dragoman can get it;
if not, it is good enough without. Now pipes if you choose—I
never smoke ; it is a foolish, useless and often injurious prac>
tice. What say you to our bill of ñire ? Many a one amidst the
abundance of civilization fares worse. And now we have an
hour or two before we retire. One of them we may spend in
writing our journal of the day ; during the other let us take
A VIBW or THE OOUNTET.
Turn to the map on page 10, and which, for the convenience
of the reader, has been reduced to a small size. You will there
see that of the two gulfs forming the head of the Red Sea,
Suez reaches much farther to the northward than Akaba.
Standing at Suez and casting the eye eastward towards the
head of the gulf of Akaba, you are looldng over an immense
extent of desert called Et Tih, " The desert of the Wanderings."
It is supposed to take its name from the wanderings of the
children of Israel. It is an immense plateau or table-land ; its
average elevation above the sea is about fifteen hundred feet.
It is made up of vast rollings plains, with a hard, gravelly soil,
sometimes intersected by chalky mounds, low, irregular, lime¬
stone ridges and dry valleys; the whole almost entirely desti¬
tute of vegetation. The range of mountains are at first called
Jebel Rahah, then Jebel et Tih. The course of this range is at
first south by east; as it approaches the Sinai range it sweeps
away around to the eastward, and terminates in bold cliffs near
the head of the gulf of Akaba. Shut in by this mountain
range and this plateau of desert upon the north, and upon the
other sides by these two great arms of the sea, is the peninsula
proper, and the Sinaitic group of mountains. These barren
.deserts of Arabia are not, as many suppose, immense extents
of drifting sands. There are occasionally, in the lower portions,
sandstone strata, with loose beds of sands driven from place to
place by the winds, but these form the exception ; a great poi
ton of the surface of the desert, even of its level plains, is firm,
dry and gravelly.
Immediately south of the Raha and Jebel et Tih range, is a
narrow tract of sandstone strata, abounding with loose, driftin/^
244
EGYPT AND SINAÍ.
sand. Thi8Í8 called Debet er Bamleb, the Plain of Sand Im¬
mediately 8oath of thÍ8 begin the mountaine of Tur or Tor, the
true highlande of the penineula. You will see by our course, aa
marked out upon the map, we have been following along near¬
ly in the direction of the sea coast, and are now near Elim. We
are just entering among these high mountain ranges of the Si-
naitic region. Among its sublime, jagged bights, and deep,
rocky ravines, we shall soon be shut in, and shut out, as it wero^
from the rest of the world. Here our eyes vrill be greeted by
the sublime and cloud-capped bights of Serbal and St. Catha¬
rine; and here, too, we shall stand by the Mount of God,
whither he brought his people, and where, as in a school, he
taught them his law, and unfolded the knowledge of his name.
February 2%th. The morning dawned bright and beautiful,
the sun looked out from his cloudless throne in the heavens,
and kissed these barren hills and jagged rocks as sweetly as
though they had been the most beautiful spots on earth. Our
dragoman called us at 5 o'clock; at 6 o'clock we were seated
around our breakfast table, and by 7 o'clock every thing was
loaded, and the camp was in motion. Myself and companions
walked on for an hour or more ahead of our camels. The days
, during this season of the year are not oppressively warm ; in "
the middle of the day we needed the shelter of an umbrella.
The nights were cool, so much so that we needed our shawls
and overcoats upon our beds, in addition to the quilt furnished
by our dragoman. As we ascend into the mountainous region
we shall probably find the nights still colder. We are now
traveling upon the main caravan route leading to Tor, in the
southern portion of the peninsula. Yesterday we met three
companies of camels and Arabs going to Suez. One of these
were loaded with charcoal, carried in large sacks hung across
the backs of the camels ; another company were carrying grind¬
stones, manufactured somewhere in the interior.
THE INHABITANTS OE THE PENINSULA.
This country is emphatically the home of the Bedawin.
There are five difierent tribes occupying different portions of
Che neninsula, but they are all known under the general name
THE TAWAKA ARABS.
245
of Tawara, and if occasion demands, all band together, and fight
under one chief. No foreigners can travel through here except
under their guard and guidance. They claim the whole region
south of the ~Kaha and Tih range of mountains. Travelers
coming to Sinai from Syria by Akaba, can come to the convent
under the escort of the more northern tribes, but such escorts
are allowed to come no farther than the convent. There their
mission must end, and when the travelers leave the convent it
must be under the escort of the Tawara.
Their number is comparatively small, the whole peninsula
south of the Tih mountains probably containing not more than
five thousand souls, perhaps not more than four thousand. The
general character of the Bedawin Arabs is well known. They
are a strange race—a wild, roving, lawless people. Ishmael
was their father, and his character was announced by the angel
>f God before he was bom : " He will be a wild man : his hand
will be against every man, and every man's hand against him."
Gen. xvi. 12. What was uttered then as a prophetic declara¬
tion, has been fulfilled in every one of his children for four
thousand years.
The Tawara are said to be inferior in wealth, courage and
even personal appearance to the Bedawin of the eastern plains.
This may arise in part from the secluded portion they have so
long occupied, with less of stirring adventure to call out their
peculiar qualities. They are confined to a limited extent of
country, possessing few springs and scanty pasturage. A few
sheep or goats, a single camel, and sometimes a donkey, form
about the average wealth of each tent. The sheik who can
number six camels is deemed a Croesus. Still they are different
m many respects from the other Bedawin tribes. They are said
to be obliging, tractable and faithful, and what is still more
rare, they are said to be honest. All Bedawins are thieves by
profession, but among these Tawara tribes, robberies are said
to be unknown. An article of dress, a piece of furniture, or an
old tent may be left upon a rock for months together; its owner
will find it safe when he returns. A camel falls dead beneath
hiß load in the open desert. His master draws a circle round
it with his stick, and sets off to his tribe, perhaps two or three
¿46
EGYPT AND SINAI.
day's journey distant, to seek another animal; and thongi
hundreds pass the spot in the interval, not a hand is stretched
out to steal. The grain and principal valuables of many of the
sheiks are stowed away in little buildings among the monn>
tains, and may not be visited during a greater part of the sea¬
son, yet they are never violated. In confirmation of this, our
own sheik brought with him a few bushels of grain from Cairo;
I saw him stow it away in one of these rock-built deposits in
the mountain side, at some distance from his family tents, and
though I could see no way of rendering it secure from the law¬
less plunderer, he left it with as little appearance of anxiety as
he would if it had found a deporit in the bottom of a bankei^s
vault. In this trait of character, they seem closely allied to the
Indians of our western forests.
A LOOK AT oun SHEIK.
He is worthy of a moment's special attention as a specimen
of his race. He is of middle bight, spare built, about forty-five
years of age, has a keen, piercing, black eye, walks as erect and
straight as an American Indian, with a light, elastic step. His
dress is in strict conformity with the costumes of the desert.
He wears a cotton shirt, open at the breast, and reachiHg to the *
knees. It was not dyed in the wool," but has contracted its
hues from long continued use. It bears no marks of ever having
been washed, and is fringed at the bottom, not by the delicate
fingers of art, but by the wear and tear of age. Around the
waist he wears a strap or belt, to which is hung a short, clam^
sword, about eighteen inches long, kept in an old, dilapidated
wooden scabbard, hound at the top and pointed at the bottom
with hands of iron. Tacked into the belt is an old, rusty
horse-pistol, with a flint lock. These are all the arms he carries,
and all, indeed, to be seen in our company. As our escort, he
evidently has made no calculations on fighting his way. Over
his shirt, suspended from his shoulders, he wears a long, ragged
woolen or goat's hair blanket, of alternate stripes of dirly-
white and dingy-black. This he wears loosely Or wraps tightly
around him, as the weather or inclination dictates. His head¬
dress is as unique and ornamental as the other portions of his
DESEBT 00STT7MES.
247
costume. He does not wear the turban, but what is here called
the Mßyeh—an old handkerchief, or kind of long scarf, striped
with two or three different colors, fringed and dirty—turown
ever his head, the ends hanging down upon his shoulders.
This is secured in its place, and makes a sort of bonnet, by a
band of camel's hair tied around the forehead. This, with an
old fashioned pair of sandals, or piece of camel's hide held on
to the bottom of the feet by leather «traps, like a boy's skates,
completes his toilet.
Such is a fair and unexaggerated description of our sheik—
one among the finest men, and best costumes of the desert. I
confess that in the chambers of my imagination, I had hung
up a very different picture of the race. I had associated them
in my mind with all that was noble, chivalrous and daring. 1
had expected to see them on fierce, handsome chargers, in rich,
flowing costume, with long spears and golden-hilted swords,
dashing about the desert in wild and heroic bands. Alas!
"'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." How often
actual contact with the scenes of life dissipates the beautiful
imagery of our dreaming fancies.
THE COMMON DRESS.
The usual dress worn in the desert is inferior to that of our
sheik. One of our drivers had only the cotton frock, bound at
the waist by a string for a belt. Too poor to own a blanket,
he carried a common sized sheep-skin with the wool on. To
the flesh side of this he contrived to attach a string in the form
of a handle, through which he could slip his head and one arm,
wearing it as a warrior would his shield. When the north
wind came upon one side too cold for comfort, he would slip it
around so as to ward off the breeze. When the sun climbed
into the heavens and poured down his hot rays from the sooth,
he w;ould slip it to the other side to protect him from the heat
I was surprised to see with what facility he used it, and how in
all weathers he managed to make it available for his comfort;
and then it answered for a bed at night.
Another one had worn his old tunic until a change had be¬
come absolutely necessary. With the greatest independence
248
EGYPT AND SINAI.
Imaginable, he drew out of one of the camel sacks a bundle of
cotton cloth, bought, I suppose, in Cairo, lipped it in piecei
to his liking, and holding the main portion under one arm,
folluwed on after the camels, sewing the seams as he walked;
and in the course of a few hours, like the snake, he shed his
coat and made his appearance clothed in a bran new costume
from head to foot. Such is the facility, simplicity and econo¬
my with which these children of the desert manage their do
mestic concerns and expenditures.
SINQULAB MABBIAOE CUSTOM.
The customs of this singular people are many of them pe¬
culiar. In marriage the preliminary process of courtship is
not called into requisition. The lady belongs to the father; ho
sets his price upon her, regulated according to the dignity of
his own position and her beauty. She is to be bought, not
won. The price is said to range from five to thirty doUars.
The bargain completed, the bridegroom receives a green branch
of a tree or shrub, which he sticks in his turban, and wears for
three days, to show that he is espoused to a virgin. During all
this time the young lady may be totally ignorant of the trans¬
action. She comes home, perhaps, at evening, having been
out, like Rebecca of old, leading her father's flocks. A short
distance from the camp she is met by her "intended," accom¬
panied by a couple of his young friends, who adroitly seize her
and carry her by force to her father's tent. In this, however,
great caution and expertness is necessary, for if the damsel at
all suspects their designs before they get near enough to seize
her, she fights like a fury, defending herself with stones, and
often inflicting severe wounds, though she may not feel alto¬
gether indifferent to her lover. This defense is desert etiquette,
and the more she struggles, bites, kicks and screams, the higher
she ever afterwards stands in the " estimation of her com¬
panions.
At last vanquished and carried to her tent, one of the bride¬
groom's friends throws a covering over her head, and then pro¬
nounces the name of her husband, of which, up to that moment,
COUKTSHIP IN THi DESERT.
249
*he may have been entirely ignorant. She is then arrayed by
her mother and female friends in new costume, placed upon
the back of a gaily decked camel, and though still struggling
to release herself from the grasp of her husband's friends, she
is paraded three times around the tent. She is then, amid the
shouts of the assembled encampment, carried into the tent, and
the ceremony is over.
Arbitrary as this mode of disposing of a damsel may seem,
and abrupt and summary as the consummation of the espousals
may be, it is not probable, after all, that they are conducted, as
a general thing, without some reference to the wishes and opin¬
ions of the fair one. Instances there may be, as we still find
even in the midst of the highest civilization, where a seldsh,
cold-hearted, calculating father would affiance a daughter,
without reference to her afiections, to a man she did not and
could not love, for the attainment of some mercenaij^ end ; hut
such is not often the case, even in the city or the desert. These
rude, swarthy, uncultivated sons of the desert, share in all the
warm affections of our common humanity; and fathers love
their children, and are far from being indifierent to their hap¬
piness.
Besides, the lapse of four thousand years has not changed
the habits this simple people have inherited from che Abra-
hamic age. The Arab maiden stiU leads forth her father's
sheep, and often comes in contact with the young men of the
tribe ; and still taught by nature, her virgin modesty, like an
unsullied vail, screenes her, and the breath of scandal is seldom
breathed against her. And yet, where Jacob met Bebeoca,
ay, where in this very desert Moses found his wife—around
the springs and wells the young men do, by strange chance,
help the girls draw water for their fiocks. . And who knows
what looks of affection are exchanged, and what tales of love
are breathed into apparently listless ears; and what watchful
parent's eye is not quick to catch» the course in which the cur¬
rent rims? And how often that same young man at these
places may have met a welcome reception from that same dam-
juel, who at last was constrained by the etiquette of her tribe to
250
EGYPT AND SINAI.
resiut by blows, kicks and screams, what, in h^r inmost heart,
she most devoutly desired to see consummated.
WADT TAITIBSH.
While we have been indulging in this view of Bedawin man¬
ners and customs, we have passed the place where the road
branches. The left hand route leads to Sinai by the curious
ruins and sculptures of Surabit el Xhadim ; but we intended to
return that way, and shall see them then. We have turned
into Wady Taiyibeh, and are taking our course towards the
sea. In this wady there is also water--now a runnipg stream
—^but it is salt and brackish. Here, too, we find the usual scanty
vegetation that fringes, with a sickly verdure, these water¬
courses—an occasional palm-tree,, now and then a dwarf, sick¬
ly-looking acacia, and the feathery tamarisk. As we ride on,
the valley seems again to narrow upon us ; we pass between the
huge clifis that rise up on either side, sometimes white and
chalky, sometimes black and dismaL On we ride, wondering
what change will next meet us in the ever varying scenery of
this strange looking country. We are straining our eyes down
through a long opening. What do We see? Is it a distant line
of sky and a bank of fieecy clouds? Ho, it is the sea—^the
detp blue sea—^its white crested waves breaking upon its clean
pebbly shore. What a refreshing sight ! And now a broad,
sandy plain opens upon our right and left, and stretches away
to the shell-strown beach. It is the place of the
ENOAHPHENI BT THE SEA.
We were struck by the correspondence of this with the scrip¬
ture narrative. "And they removed from Elim and cmnped
by the lied Sea." Humb. xxxiii. 10. Thus far we seemed to
have been following directly upon the track pursued by the
children of Israel, in their journey from the divided waters to¬
wards the Mount of God. Often the thought would arise:
"Is it possible that these paths, along which our camels are
now winding their way, are the very ones over which the
ransomed hosts of Israel made their way to the Promised
Land?"
THE WILDERNESS OF SlN. 251
After our long desert ride^ the siglkt of the clear, cool water
of the sea was truly refiieshing. Soon we were close upon its
sandy shore. It was a tempation not to be resisted. Four
days we had been riding in .the heat and sand, with a scanty
allowance of water for face and hands. A few minutes more,
and we were enjoying a most refreshing bath in the inviting
waters.
riiAIN or MUBKAH AND WADT SHBLLAL.
From the entrance of "Wady Taiyibeh to the place where we
stopped by the sea, was a ride of about two hours. Our bath
was over, and we had spread a blanket upon the sand—for we
could find no shade of tree or rock—and refreshed ourselves
with a noonday lunch, and again our camels were lazily wend¬
ing their way over the sandy plain.
For nearly an hour we followed along near the shore, then
passing round a projecting point of rocks that drove us clear
into the water, it being high tide, we emerged upon the oppo¬
site side. These headlands are called Zelima, and the broad,
level field over which we were now passing, is called the Plain
of Murkah, and over this plain probably a portion of the Isra¬
elites spread themselves when encamped by the sea. It is from
ten to fifteen miles broad, and as many^deep. Some travelers
have called it beautiful, but it is only so from its contrast with
the bleak hills and rocky mountain gorges among w;hich we
had spent the preceding day. It has a fountain of water, but
like the rest of the desolate country we had left behind us, it
lacked one essential requisite of a beautiful and inviting place
—^it was almost entirely destitute of verdure—no carpet of
green, no tree casting its inviting shade, only here and there a
dwarf, scrubby looking desert shrub. This country by the sea
shore is supposed to be the Wilderness of Sin, spoken of in
Exodus xvk 1, in connection with which the astonishing mira¬
cle of the quails and the manna is first mentioned.
A ride of two or three hours, and we had left the barren
plain behind us, and agmn entered the mountain ranges by a
pass called Wady Shellal, "The Valley of the Cataracts." The
entrance to this was both grand and beautiful. The lofty hills
252
egypt and sinai.
reared their huge rocky formel aud barren, craggy peaks on
eitiier side., The narrow pass was level and sandy—smooth aa
a house floor. It seemed as though it had been graded and
smoothed, and swept by the hand^of art. We could hardly re¬
sist the impression that it was the avenue to some lordly man¬
sion. Two or three short turns in this magnificent thorough¬
fare brought the hills in circles around us, and completely shut
us in. This beautiful and imposing entrance to the Sinaitio
range the Arabs dignified with the name Babel (gate) of Wady
Shellal.
As we passed on, this beautiful defile narrowed upon us.
The great hills seemed to shove themselves together at the
base. Dirt, stone—^huge bowlders—^had fallen down from the
hights above us, as if they would block up the passage. We
were now rapidly ascending from the level of the sea. For an
^hour or more we climbed along the rocky ascent, and having
entered Wady Badereh, we pitched our tents among these
mountain fortresses. A long day of eleven hours' hard toil
had wearied the body and invigorated the stomach. Our fru¬
gal supper was soon dispatched, and we laid our weary limbs
upon our camp beds to rest, the mountains round about our
bulwarks, the everlasting God our guardian.
March Isi. The sun had clambered high above the horizon
before he coulddook in upon us from over the mountain barriers,
among which we had enjoyed a night of quiet and refreshing
sleep. The night was the warmest one we had yet experienced.
It was the first morning we had passed in the desert mild
that we could comfortably dispense with our overcoats.
By 7 o'clock our camp-fires were left behind, and we were
again toiling along our difficult mountain pathway. AV e had
wondered at the rough paths and hard road yesterday, but we
found we had more difficult ones before us to-day. We con¬
tinued our course up Wady Baslereh. The mountmns were
wild and of strange and various colors ; sometimes a dark green
base, and rising far above it a lofty summit of red. Occaaon-
ally some mountain shrub had found a lodging place for its
roots among the rocky crevices, and high up the side of some
beetling cliff seemed suspended in the air. From other places
CLIMBING AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
253
the caper plant hung in green festoons from the precipitous
rocks, in strange contrast with the general bleakness and ste¬
rility of the scene.
We had now to scale a mqtmtaih ascent, or rather staircase,
called Kukb Badereh, and the pass was harder than the name,
which means "The Pass of the Sword's Point." Slowly we
toiled along our rocky way, our camels, at times, scarcely able
to find a place for their feet in the natural, and in some places
artificial, staircases of the mountain. J^early to this point we
had been passing a limestone formation; now we entered upon
a region of sandstone—sandstone bowlders, clifis and mountains
around us, beneath us, and often with frowning aspect hanging
over us. Having for sometime climbed along the mountain side,
we again found ourselves descending, though still in Wady Ba¬
dereh. Before emerging from this mountain pass, we rode by
a wild mountain gorge upon our left called
WADT MACHABA, "THE VALLEY OF THE CAVE."
This we had not made arrangements to visit, and we give
our readers a brief description of it found in Murray's Guide
Book. After speaking of its dngular caverns, and more sin¬
gular sculptures, he says : " The antiquarian will luxuriate in
such a spot as this, looking back through the dim spectacles
of showman-like sculptures and queer hieroglyphics into the
misty ages of remote antiquity. But far though the antiqua¬
rian may look back, the geologist will as far outstrip him, for
he will tell us of the fi>rmatÍK)n, countless centuries back, of those
veins of ore which the scu^ptuie-carving miners came here to
dig out and carry off to Bgypt, The valley was first visited by
Laborde, who states that the rock has been worked for the
purpose of extracting the copper found in the freestone. A
long, subterraneous series of pillars formed in the rock, and
now incumbered by the rushing in of the rains, and of the
sands which have there found refuge, still exhibit traces of the
labors formerly prosecuted in that direction. Lepsius was here
more recently, and found, high up on the northern cliffj remark¬
able Egyptian hieroglyphic inscriptions, belonging to the earli¬
est monuments of the antiquities of that country."
17
254
EGYPT AND SINAI.
He tbuad in these rook sculptures the triumphs of Fhaiaon
over the enemies öf Egypt, amd supposes these ruins to have
been ■worked at a very early period, ■when, perhaps, the penin¬
sula was inhabited by thé Asi^tiic^: probably Semitic laces.
Among the inscriptions, he found the name of CheopSj who
built the greát pytíamiJdi I will not attempt to give his dates,
by which he concludes the mines were worked long before the
days of Abraham, for subsecjuent discoveries in reading the
hierogjyphics have strangely upset his theories and his dates.
We have quoted the above to Show the remains of antiquity
that are found in this remarkable valley, and the intercourse
that must, at some previous 'time, have existed betweeu- these
mountain regions and Egypt. ' '
Passing this valleyj we soon emerged into Wady Mukatteb,
r .
"THE WEITTBN VALLEY."
This valley has several peculiarities.^ Lofty granite peaks
rise up around you; but these frowning bights of granite rest
on softer strata of fiteestone and sandstone. The actibn of the
elements, constantly at wotk during the lapse of ages, has crum¬
bled away the foundations, and the over-han^Ug masses have
given away and tumbled into the Valley below. In some j^acéB
these hqge bowlders are of enormous size. In many instancM,
as they have been torn away from their native resting places,
the clefts have been so regular and precipitous that you ridé
along the side of smooth perpendicular walls rising far above
your head, while at some distance back of them the tall, giant
clifEs lift their huge forms. These sandstoho tablets aré in¬
vested with a deep interest, for here for the first time we found
■jurselves gazing upon those mysterious* characters that have so
ong excited the wonder of the traveler.
inscriptions upon the rocks
255
CHAPTER XII.
SiNAITIO InSCKEPTIONS—FEATURES OP THE CoUNTRT—MaNNA—
Hyssop and other Plants—^Approach to Sinai.
"We are now in the "Written Valley—in the midst of those
strange and mysterious inscriptions that have been the puzzle
and the wonder of the ignorant and the learned. Among the
first of these inscriptions I met, I copied, as accurately as I could
with a pencil, two or three lines of the letters and a few of the
strange looking sketches. A view of these is here given, and
they may be relied upon as correct:
tj^Mlmeiu of the Inscriptions from the Sinsltic Rocks. Copied March, 1861. The letters, as
fhend upon the rocks, are from flye to eight inches long. The sketches of animals Taryserr
mneh in siie, some much more mde than others.
256
EGYPT AUD SINAI.
The interest these inscriptions have excited, the uumeroua
conjectures and learned disquisitions to which they have given
nsb, and the mystery in which they are still shrouded, led me
to look ' upon them with great earnestness and attention.
Scholars of different nations have examined them, and they
have given rise to various conflicting opinions. The curiosity
excited in my own mind in being pfermitted to examine them,
has led me to look through several authors, and collate ; their
different views and opinions, the result of which, in conuection
with my own observations, may be of interest to the reader.
The questions that arise are: "When were these inscriptions
made? Ey whom were they made ? and for what purpose ?
iPirst, let us clear the subject of all exaggerations and over
drawn statements. It cannot be denied that there is a disposi¬
tion on the part of many journalizers to use figures of speech,
and indulge in flights of fancy, in describing the most common
incidents and the most stubborn matters of fact. Tall things
become cloud-capped ; large things, enormous ; and many, an in¬
numerable multitude. This will do* in some instances, but
when we want the plain facts, we are often under the necessity
of stripping away many superfluities.
These inscriptions are far from being as numerous as I had
expecte^ to find them. From some accounts I had read, I sup¬
posed I should find whole mountain sides, for mileS, covered
with them like the pages of a book. In\thÍ8 valley it is al¬
lowed they are more numerous than in any other place. Stan¬
ley's observation completely coipcides with my own.. "The
Wady Mukatteh is a large opejr valley, almost a pl^in, with no
continuous wall or pdck on either side, but masses of rock re¬
ceding and advancing. It is chiefly on these advancing masses
that the inscriptions straggle, not by thousands, but at most by
hundreds or fifties. They are much less numerous than the
names of western travelers on the monuments in the valley of
the Nile, since the beginning of this century."
THE AMOUNT 0Ï WOEK. EXPENDED ON THEM.
Some writers have described them as occupying eveiy con¬
ceivable situation—on the loose fragmente that strew the valley,
THE SINÄITIO I1Í3CRIPTI0NS.
25T
HB TTéll as on the rocks of the sides, and= on lofty cliffs utterly in-
atxessiUe except hy ladders aud ropes; and Bnrckhardt says Le
saw many on the granite peak of Serbal. The loftiest ones I
saw were two ot three fêet higher than my head as I sat on tny
camel, or abont as high as a man coold reach standing upon a
camel's back. There tiay,- of course, be higher ones, but they
cannot be many. I did not ascend Mount Serbal, but Stanley
says, that though he searched for them he only, found three on
the top of that mountain ; and that none that he saw, unless it
might be a yery■ doubtful one at Petra, requii^d ladders or ma¬
chinery of any kind.' "I think," he says, ''there are none that
could not have been written by one man climbing upon anoth¬
er's shoulders." And then we very well know, in some places in
our own country, where travelers have inscribed their names,
there has often been a sort of strife to overreach each other.
And who knows bul; some one here, like the ambitious youth
at the Natural Bridge, may have imperiled his life in his ambi¬
tion to overreach the rest? Oertain it is, that some of the
highest names in this valley are Greek,'probably placed there
by Greek pilgrims long subsequent to those we are contem-
f
plating.
Again, the labor of cutting them has been represented as
enormous. A recent writer in an English Review, in alluding
to this, says : " They must have been done by a people possess¬
ing implements of various kinds, implements which no pil¬
grims ever think of carrying with them. They must have had
grâving tool's of strength, and in considerable numbers. The
diffîctdty of Working on the face of the rocks under a scorching
sun, is so great that it could only be overcome by men who,
living in the desert, could avail themselves of all opportunities,
and take things leisurely, or else who were shadowed from the
heat in some mysterious way. What must have been the toil
of executing them. When we consider not only their amazing
numbers, but that many of them are cut in the hard granite ? '■
The writer of this quotation had probably never been upon
the ground, but gathered his knowledge from some bombastic
writer. I saw none of these inscriptioûé that appeared to have
Dcen cut with an engraver's tool, or on which any great amount
258
BGYPT ANDàSINAI.
of labor had been bestowed. They are simply scratched i pon
tne surface of the rock, as if with some hard, sharp instnuiumt,
the indentations being very slight. I did not try my own hand
at the work; but here, again, Stanley tells us that one of hii
company scooped out a horse in ten minutes, more completa
than any sculptured animal he saw. Those upon the granite
are lightly scratched ; those upon the sandstone are deeper, yet
still but slightly indented. But it may be asked: "If they
are so slightly imprinted, why have they not long since been
defaced, or completely worn away ? " This is owing to the na¬
ture of the climate—a dry atmosphere, and few winds and
storms. Some more modern inscriptions, known by their date
to be from three hundred to four hundred years old, are now
apparently as fresh as when cut.
WHERE FOUND AND THEIR PE 0 UDI AR IT IE S.
They are mostly found in those thoroughfares that lead from
Egypt to Mount Sinai—fewer of them on the route from
Mount Sinai to Jerusalem by way of Petra. They extend in
different places quite to Mount Sinai. They are found in the
lower road between Mount Serbal and Sinai, and many of them
can be seen in the ravine leading to Mount St. Catharine. In¬
deed, they seem to be widely scattered over a large portion, of
the peninsula, but more in this valley than in any other place-
East of Sinai it is said none have been found. They seem to
be most numerous in those places where travelers would natur¬
ally, stop for rest and refreshment. The most that occur on
the northern route from Sinai are said to be in Wady Araba,
the supposed route of the children of Israel.
Their characters are generally much the same, indicating that
they were executed by the same class of people. Most of them
appear to be of the same language. The inscriptions are gen¬
erally short, as if they contained only a name. Those I havn
copied are about as long as any I saw. The letters are unlike
those of any known language. They are now. intermingled
with crosses, sometimes fj and sometimes + ; but these, as the
position of some of them indicates, may have been subsequeWfe*
ly added. Some- Greek inscriptions are intermingled with
IHE SINAITIO INSCRIPTIONS.
259
taem, out evidently anbàeqtiefntly formed, as they are, in some
instances, traced directly over the others. The size of the
letters vary much. Those from which I copied were from five
to eight inches long. -Some, it is said, have been found where
the letters were from five to six feet long, and the figures of
enormous size, requiring in their formation much labor.
The drawings of animals that accompany them, are certain;-
ly as inexplicable as the letters themselves. There are dogs,
h(jrses, camels, bugs, and other representations of various kinds.
They are generally so rudely drawn, as may be seen by refer¬
ence to our copies, as to convey the impression that they must
have been done by boys, in jocund sport. Most of them are
mere caricatures. The ibex frequently occurs, with most ludi¬
crous length of horns. So fantastic and comical are many of
these figures, as to lead to the conclusion that no very serious
intentions were entertained by those who drew them. Others,
again, appear to be better formed and of a graver character,
ATTENTION BESTOWED UPON THESE INS0BIPTION8.
The first one from whom we have any record of them, was
Closmas, an Alexandrian merchant, and who, from a voyage he
made to India, was called Indicopleustes. * As early as A. D.
535, he traversed on foot the Sinaitic peninsula. He makes
particular mention of these inscriptions, and tells us that some
Jews who were with him informed him that they were made
by their ancestors when on their way with Moses through the
desert. From this time on, for a long series of years, we hear
no more of them. From the sixth to the sixteenth century
no one mentions them.
About the middle of the sixteenth century, a Paris physician,
Dy the name of Peter Belon, visited Arabia. He published an
account of his travels in 1554, in French, in which he speaks
of these inscriptions. In 16B2, Athanasius Kircher, a German
antiquary, publishesd a work at Home, in which he makes spe¬
cial mention of these desert tablets. In 1665, Balthaser Mon-
conys, another French traveler, published some remarks on
these writings.
Hearly another hundred years passed away, when the Pre-
260 : mügtpt and sinai
0
fetto of the .EmDciscaüs at Cairo made a journey to<3ÍQW^4n
iîomjvany of some mjssionaries of the Pitopaganda. He give# an
account of his visit to this ** Written Valley," aud gives some
description of the writings, but oöuld ^ve.iio.interpj?elt»tioji.of
them. He siáys there were with him persons of the Arabic
Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Gopticj Latin, Artnenian, Turkish, kd-
glish, Illyrican, German and Bohemian languages, yet none oí
them had any knowledge of these characters. He thinks they
were engraven by the Chaldeans, or some other, persons, Imig
before the coming of Christ.
Then came Pocoke's visit in 1737. He says but Httle of the
inscriptions, but gives his readers two largfe plates of specimens
which he copied. Not long after this,-Charles Thompson vis¬
ited the place, and speaks of the inscriptions as beiog void of
beauty and nnintelligible, not worth the pains.'of; copying.
Robert Clayton, Bishop of Clogér, in 1753, traiuslated into
English and published the Journal of the Franciscap pf Caim
before mentioned. This work served to arouse more attention
to the subject than had ever before been manifested. The
Bishop was full of enthusiasm upon the subject, and in his aeal
and liberality, made an oñer of ñve hundred pounds sterling to
any one who would visit the desert ánjl bring back copies of
the inscriptions. He thinks the characters an ancient form of
Hebrew, left there by the Israelites at the time lof giving the
law. Others have entertained this theory. When I was in Je¬
rusalem, I showed my copies of these inscriptibns to old' Hr.
Levishon, who has béstoWéd much attention Upon the ancient
Hebrew. He believes sottíe vmy ancient copies of the Samari¬
tan Pentateuch, of which I shall speak in my visit to Jerusar»
lem, found among the Samaritans, to he written) in the same
character uséd by Môèës; but in comparing the two, he could
trace no resemblance to warrant an opinion they ever belongfei^
to the same language. But this would not prove the Hebrews
<iid not write thèm ; they mi^t have Written in some other dia¬
lect, bihught with them from Egypt. "
Soon after this, in 1776, an article appeared in the "Philo¬
sophical Transactions," from Edward Wortly Montague, giving
an account of his journey fpom Cairo to the "Written Moun-
THE SINAITIO INSCRIPTIONS
261
i&iue. Finding Greek cliaraofcers among the writinga, he aa-
criboB the -whole to Greek pilgtimis from Constantinople cr the
Morea.
The King of Denmark became interested in these matters,
and in 1761, sent Kiebuhr on a tour of exploration td îEgypt
and Arabia. He esamined the iiinscriptiotns, biit did not seem
to attach much importance tO' them. He th<&aght they must
have been executed •igi'travelers during their resting or idle
hours. He states, however, that these inscriptions had been
mentioned by a Greek author as early as the third century.
Volney visited the Written Valley and published his travels
in 1784. He treats the inscriptions with great lightness, and
ridicules the clumsy attempts made to imitate fignres of animals.
After this, travel greatly inoreiised. Many looked upon these
strange tablets with amaUemeht, only to be perplexed with the
mystery that enshrouded them. But while none could read,
many sat about the work of copying them ; conspicuous among
whom was Mr. Gray, who not only copied but published one
hundred and eighty-seven of these inscriptions. With these
allusions to the attention they have attracted, we must still come
back to the question of
THEIR ORIGIN.
By whom were these drawings made? . When? For what
purpose? These are the perplexing questions that the inquisi¬
tive have long been trying to settle. That they are very an¬
cient, is certain from the fact that all knowledge of the alpha,bet
and language in which they were written has been lost. What
people have ifound a home in this desert? When Moses left
Egypt and took up his abode' here, he found a settled people
Sojpprning in this portion of the land,. When he undertook to
lead Israel through# the Amakkites apposed their progress, and
from the battle that was fought, they appear to have been a
numerous and powerful people. Did they: make them ? Had
they been made by any class of persons permanently dwelling
in the land, they would have bpen likely to have abounded in
erther localities in as great numbers as where they are now
found. We have seen that they occur on those routes where
262
EGYPT AND SINAI.
transient persons or mere travelers through the land were most
likely to make their halts. Did the Israelites make them?
Who were the inhabitants of the country for the long period
that elapsed between the Exodus and the Christian era? We
know that the Egyptians came here and worked these mines,
but the inscriptions are in a language of which no traces hare
ever been found in Egypfe Four or five hundred years after
the Christian era, when monasticism began to rage like an e^.
demicj and monks and anchorites crowded to Mount Sinai, thk
desert was full of pilgrims. Did they leave these memorials on
these rocks ? Alexandrian, African, Syrian, Byzantin^ and
various other classes came here; hut the alphabet of these
strange characters cannot be traced to any of these known lan¬
guages. Indeed, Cosmas, an Alexandrian merchant, who first
brought these curious inscriptions to the knowledge of the
learned world, was here, it is said, in A. D. 535, and then al.
knowledge of the character in which they were written ap¬
pears to have been lost. He attributes them to the ancient He¬
brews. He says certain Jews who had read them, explainec
them to him. They indicated, he said, "the journey of such a
one, of such a tribe, in such a year, etc." To this we have be¬
fore alluded.
As late as 1889, Professor Beer, of the University of Leipzig,
professed to have made out the alphabet in which they are
writfen. His readings of them appear to have been satisfacto¬
ry to many eminent scholars. He makes them to consist mere¬
ly of proper names, preceded by a word—^cacc, blessed, or some¬
thing similar. î^o dates have been found. He considers them
romains of the language and character once in use among the
Nabatheans of Arabia Petra. He supposes a great part of them
were written by Christian pilgrims about the fourth ceutuiy.
Professor Beer has certainly made out a very plausible theory^
and yet it is opétí to several serious objections. These objec¬
tions I find stated in a note to Doctor Robinson's allusions to
them.
' "These Christian pilgrims, who were they? and whence did
they come? The fact that all the inscriptions are found <®ly
'on the great routes from Egypt, would seem to imply that (hey
THE 8INAITIC IH 8 O Bïl TI OU S.
26S
came from that country, or at least from the western side of the
gulf of Suez. But if so, how comes it that not a trace of this
Alphabet or language is found in Egypt and its vicinity Î Egypt,
too, we know, was full of Jews and Christians in the early cen¬
turies ; how comes it, then, that no Jewish or Christian names
are found among the inscriptions ? It is true, that the heathen
proper names continued to be used long after the introduction
of Christianity, as we see from the early fathers and bishops*
But this will not account for the entire absence of Christian
and Jewish names among such hosts of pilgrims coming from
Egypt.
" On the other hand^ were these pilgrims !N"abathean8, Ishma-
elites, Saracens, the native inhabitants of the peninsula, and of
Ajabia Petra in general? The heathen names and the lan¬
guage and writing would lead to this conclusion. But then
how comes it that all the inscriptions are on the western side
of the peninsula, and not one upon the eastern ? Besides, there
is no historical evidence that any native Christian population
• existed in and around the pëninsula in the early centuries, but
rather the contrary. The Christian exiles from Egypt, and the
hermits of these mountains, lived in constant exposure to slave-
rj, or death from the heathen around them."
It appears further, that after the above objections were writ¬
ten, and after the death of Professor Beer, investigations were
continued. A paper on the subject was published in Germany,
irom the pen of Professor Tuch. He indorses Beer's explana¬
tion of the alphabet, and comes to the conclusion that the in¬
scriptions are neither Aramaean nor Habathean, as held by
Beer, but Arabic; that they were made by the ancient Tawara
Ax'abs, who inhabited the peninsula before the rise of Moham¬
medanism ; and further, that they were made in the performance
of pilgrimages to some holy shrines in the desert now unknown.
But I confess the conclusions of both Beer and Tuch are far
from boing satisfactory, and the question again returns. When ?
and by whom ?
DID THK JZWS INSCRIBI TH1SM?
A recent writer i» the London Quarterly Journal ofPrpphe-
264
EGYPT AND SINAI.
cy gives UB an elaborate article on tbe snbjeot. ' Unsatisfieil
with Beer's theory, he inclines to support that of Mr. Foratef,
íTbo also claims to have ¡discovered a key to the strange and
perplexing characters. He supports the original opinio of
posmas, that they were written by the Jews at the time of the
Exodus, and that the characters are of an ancient form, used by
some of the dialects of Egypt. He finds confirmation of this in
some of the figurative representations. In one place, the figure
of a man, ho'lding up both hands in the attitude of prayer. Thi«
he interprets to be Moses praying for the success of Israel against
Amalek. In another, the figure of a serpent springing upon a
man—^an alliisiou, he thiiiks, to the fiery serpent; and so of
others. The inscriptions under, he says, correspond to this in¬
terpretation. This writer also speaks of more important in¬
scriptions, recently found, than any that have yet been men-
tionedi—a hieroglyphic character a hufidb'nd feet high, the
title six feet in hight, consisting of but one line; under this,
forty-one puccessive lines, evidently formifig an entire piece of
composition. This is conjectured to be tibe song of Moses.
Thus I have given the reader all the facts within my reach
bearing upon this perplexing subject. It will be seen that it is
still an open question, far from being settled. According to the
writer last quoted, it is constanly assuming more and more im¬
portance, He thinks that in this last theory more of the dis¬
cordances seem to unite and harmonize thanin any other. "If
these inscriptions," he says, "are Israel's omTu records of the
Lord's dealings with them, how much light may yet be cast
upon scripture ! The rocks of Sinai may yet prove reflectors
of a wondrous light upon many things that havb hitherto beep
accounted dark and puzzliiig. The field of antiquities thiti
opened to us promise to be one of profqundest interest—far be¬
yond that attaching to either Hineveh or Babyloq." If these
inscriptions are indeed Israel's own records of the Lord's deal¬
ings with them, then what can the unbeliever say ? Th^iare
not taken from scripture; they were written prior,to thep^itft*
teuch. The very stones may cr;^ out against him, and say.
""The God of Israel is he who aloné àoeith wonders; Jehovah is
his naine." It woqld, indeed, be dtrahgis if these mountiÛQ
A CHEEBLESS CEMETEBT.
265
tablets should yet prove to be a portion of the Handwriting
of God, by whieh the Mosaic record is to he confirmed. That
the art of waiting on stone at-that period wae known, is a well
attested fact, for the children of Israel received the tables of
the law written in that manner. But how we are lingering
among these records of lost languages and extinct tribes. Well,
we are not the only travelers that have tarried to gaze, think
and wonder.
A BURYINO-OBOUND.
Having finished our work of copying a few of the sfrange in¬
scriptions, we continued our ride along the valley, 10 o'clock
we passed a Bedawin buryingtground, on a little eminence in
the wild, rock-Btrowu valley. There were a large number of
groves, eacl^ one rudely marked by a pile of loose stones at the
head and foot—no inclosurç, no turf-coverpd mound, po çypress
shade. As I looked upon the frowning precipice ¡pf. rocks that
hung over it from above, upon the sterile and. desolate ground
beneath, it seemed like a sad and bitter thing to, die
buried thus in such a cheerless spot. Almert .involuntarily I
found myself exclaiming: "Lord, protect me, and let me re^
turn and be buried among my .kindred, where the grass grows
and the flowers bloom, and the willow spreads its mviting
shade," rt i
Of the wildness of the cpuntry throwgli which we wpre now
passing, one can form no conception from apy written descrip¬
tion. Shpt in by lofty hills ; winding our way among huge
fragments of rocks that had been torn from their native beds ;
occasionally catching a view of the tall, gray summit of Verbal ;
the profound solitude, the nude hills, and the utter desolatioiU
that every where met the eye, inspired a sort of trembling nerv
ousness almost amounting to fear ; while the sublimity of the
scene was grand and impressive beyond the power of expres¬
sion.
At 11 o'clock we passed a flopk of goats, some thirty or
more—all of them black-«-with two young camels. A small
Bedawin boy, apparently about twelve years pf age, had charge
of them. He was half-naked, and the little cloiihing be had
266
EGYPT AND SINAI.
was all in rags, so tattered he could scarcelj keep them about
him. How the flock lived here was a mystery, for scarce u
green thing could be seen. At 12 o'clock we stopped to lunch
under a dwarf acacia, whose thin, sicklyrlooking leaves afforded
us but a slight protection from the now oppressive rays of the
noontide sun. It was all the shelter we could ñnd. Passing
on at half^past 1 o'clock, we entered
WADT VEIBAN.
These wadies, to use the language of another, " are exactly
like the beds and valleys of our rivers in mountainous regions,
only that there is no water," and in most of them very little,
if any, vegetation. In the winter season the water evidently
rushes through them in sweeping torrents; as collected and
poured down from the mountain sides, it is driven onward to
the sea. But these currents of water are transient, and suc¬
ceeded by a drouth that withers almost every green thing. In
these dry seasons every appearance of water deceives you.
You look for it, long for it, but find it not.
This Wady Feiran forms an exception to the general rule
It is really an oasis in the desert-^a green spot in this barren
sanctuary of hills. But it is not all the valley that is thus fer¬
tile. After entering it, we passed on some two hours over the
level bed of the valley, which here spreads out into a barren,
sandy plain, from four hundred to five hundred yards wide.
At half-past four o'clock we passed a Bedawin encampments-
some twenty to thirty low, black tents, several children, some
goats, and three or four camels wandering about near them.
Hear this we saw two sand-colored swallows or martins, and
directly after two small blackbirds, marked witli white. It
seemed pleasant in this desert region to see any thing that had
life. Soon afterwards we met a Bedawin on horseback, carry¬
ing a good-Sized' lamb in his arms. It seemed that, hearing of
our approach, he had come out to meet us, to see if he could
not find a market for his animal. His price was one dollar,
hut for some reason oiir dragoman did not succeed in maldng a
bargain with hiña. How the valley began again to narrow upon
us. The tail cliffs rose up on each side, curiously striped with
•BHwatroa mnonaa
OA.SIS IN THE DESERT.
269
vwious colors of porphyry, intermixed with the primitive
granite rock: Night again overtook us, and again we pitched
our tents before reaching the green portion of the valley, of
which we had so often heard, and for which we had so anxious¬
ly looked. Upou lighting our candles, a few winged insects
came buzzing around, the first we had seen since entering the
desert, and a bat also came flying around our tents. Sure we
must be approaching some place where animal life can find
subsistence. To-morrow we are promised a view of the ver¬
dure of Feiran, and a draft from its refreshing waters.
SIXTH DAT FROM SUEZ.
March Id. We were called this morning at half-past four
o'clock; our dragoman wishing to make a long ride to-day.
By the time the sun cast his first morning rays on the loft;y
peak of old Serbal, in sight of which we had encamped, we
had breakfasted, and were once more on our way. We walked
on for an hour or more ahead of our camels ; sometimes gazing
with awe and astonishment upon the deep ravines and huge
clefts that opened here and there among the mountains, some¬
times wondering at the enormous bowlders that had been pre¬
cipitated into the valley below. Nothing could be more sug¬
gestive of banditti and Bedawin robbers than these wild, deep
glens, and, in spite of all assurances of security, the imagina¬
tion would sometimes picture the long gun and half-concealed
form of some daring robber skulking behind the rocks.
Between 8 and 9 o'clock, an abrupt turn in the valley brought
us directly in front of Serbal, one of the boldest and grandest
of the Sinaitic mountains. Though still a number of miles dis¬
tant, it seemed to rise up before us directly from the plain, lift¬
ing its bold, granite peak in solemn majesty and grandeur far
into the heavens. Near here we passed, upon the side of the
mountain, to the jeft, the ruins of an ancient village. It is es¬
timated to have contained about one hundred houses, which
had been built of stone, some of the walls still standing. Near
it, in the valley, are a few palm trees and other indications of
vegetation.
About 9 o'clock ^e reached the much talked of oasis—^the
270
BGÏPT Ail D SINAI.
garden in the desert—a fertile spot in this sanctuary of moun¬
tain peaks. Here a grove of the date palm cheered the eye,
and several other kinds of fniit trees, now clothed in the beau¬
ty and blossoms of spring, lent a sweet fragrance to the desert
air. The cheerful song of a few birds fell upon the ear, and a
few cultivated patches of ground promised a reward for the la¬
borer's toil. Here, too, was water—sweet water—a running
stream of water—water that we could drink. It was the first
waùer we had found in all our weary journey from Cairo, that
we thought deserved the name. Our camels rushed towards it
and drinked with an eagerness that would have exhausted the
stream had there not been a bountiful supply. "We refreshed
ourselves, bathed our hands and faces| and lingered around the
stream. This was
THE OASIS or FEIBAN.
This Feiran is called " The Paradise of the Bedawin." It is,
indeed, beautiful and fertile, when seen in contrast with the
barren wastes of sands and the bleak, naked hills and moun¬
tains that encircle it for miles on every side. But it is this
contrast, rather than the real merits of the place, that has ani¬
mated the pen of those tourists whose descriptions have invested
jt with such attractive beauties and excellencies. It is not
probably now what it has been in former years, for beauty and
excellence no where spring up, or are perpetuated in the track
of the Bedawin. All that is bright and beautiful seems to per¬
ish beneath the touch of his hand.
Some have endeavored to identify this with the Bephidim
of the Exodus, where Moses smote the rock, and Amalek fought
against Israel. And some have attempted to prove that yon¬
der towering hight of Serbal, that looks down from his sublime
canopy of clouds upon this enchanting valley of the desert, is
the real Sinai of the law, and the scene of ^hat astounding ex¬
hibition of the Divine majesty and glory. But the arguments
by which this is sustained are far from being satisfactoiy. And
yet this, next to Sinai, is certainly one of the most interesting
spots in all the peninsula. Here is the beauty of the valley in
contrast with the sublimity of the mountain peaks; and what
EARLY CHRISTIAN SETTLEMENTS. 271
peaks they are! All of granite, rising so precipitously and
column-like as to appear inaccessible to man, while large
masses of snow glistened in the sunlight upon their tops.
Around me was the beauty, melody and fer^Iity of spring.
From these I had but to lift my eyes, and there, amid majestj
and grandeur, were the frosts and snows of winter.
But though not the theatre of those amazing events thac
overawed the people, when God in his majesty touched the
mount, here, it is certain, the tribes of Israel came. Through
this valley the numerous columns marched in solemn proces¬
sion toward the Mount of God. From these waters they drank ;
from this ground they gathered the bread of heaven ; and these
tall mountain sides and deep gorges were illuminated by the
mysterious cloud.
CHBISTIANS IN WADT FEIBAN.
The fertility of this valley, and the sacred associations that
may have been connected with its mountain scenery, early drew
large numbers of Christian pilgrims to the place. Here are
still seen large masses of the ruined city of Faran, or, as it is
sometimes called, Paran. Soon after the spread of Christiani¬
ty, and as early as the beginning of the fourth century, large
numbers of Christians, some driven by persecution, and some
urged by the love and supposed merits of a secluded and mo¬
nastic life, were drawn to these lonely solitudes of the desert.
There was quite a Christian population, and a regularly organ¬
ized ecclesiastical cemmunity in this valley as early as A. D.
400. Many convents subsequently sprung up in difierent por¬
tions of thé desert. Monasticism became a spiritual epidemic ;
solitude, abstinence, bodily penance and privations were re¬
sorted to, as the holy cross upon which to crucify the flesh, and
the talismanic charm to exorcise the devil. Then it was, as one
truly says, that the wildest glens of these gloomy regions
swarmed with anchorites; every comfortless spot was religious¬
ly searched out ; every wretched cave and gloomy grot was con¬
stituted the living tomb of some saintly hermit. All. along
these wild glens and rocky miountain sides can still be seen the
remains of these miserable abodes, where some human being
272 EGYPT AND SINAI.
»pent his life in self-inflicted torture, fasting and prayer. "We
elimbed up the hill-sides and entered two or three of them^
wretched, cheerless abodes they must have been. As we looked
upon the gloomy apartment, and pictured to ourselves the lean
and famished victim of a superstitious delusion, dying from ex
posure and starvation, we wondered how, amid all the glorious
light, and cheerful hopes, and delightful pleasures of an active
Christian obedience, any one could ever have thought it neces¬
sary, or acceptable to God, to stultify their manhood, obliterate
their being, and turn earth into hell, in hopes of gaining heaven.
Such was the rage for this kind of life in the earlier ages of
Christianity, it is said that at one time there were more than
six thousand hermits living in these mountain glens and desert
retreats. But this episcopal city of Paran long since became s.
heap of ruins. Convent after convent has perished, and bul
one in all the desert, as we shall see hereafter, now remains.
OOLOB AND EOBM OF THE MOUNTAINS.
Again, like a loitering school-boy, we are lingering by the
way. There are so many things of interest in this strange land^
we are making but slow progress. We must leave these mur¬
muring waters, delightful shades and pleasant groves of palm.
Parewell, Feiran ! Adieu, ye sublime and mysterious peaks o£
Serbal ! A short ride, and vegetation will again cease, and no
sign of rural life will greet us. A few miserable families make
their home in this valley, but it is said they are not of the gen¬
uine Bedawin race. They have converted some portions of the
old, dilapidated ruins of the former stone Louses into a sort of
dwelling places, by covering them with biush and reeds; but
they are in a condition of the most abject poverty. Here I saw
the flrst female I have seen since entering the desert The
Bedawin proper has no home. He camps in Feiran as long as
the trees yield him any revenues of fruits, or there is any veg¬
etation for his flocks, and then moves, and again pitches his tent
wherever be can find a little herbage for his goats. Here 1 saw
the first spires of grass I nave seen since leaving the green val¬
ley of the Hile. Oí this, however, there was a very scanty
SUBLIME 8CENEBT.
273
growth, seemingly struggling for a bare existence among the
sands of the valley.
Passing on, about half-past 10 o'clock we came to the head
of "Wady F^^n, where the road branches in two directions,
both leading by difierent routes to Sinai—^Wady Sheik to the
left, "Wady Soolah to the right. The former is the longer but
easier route, and is supposed to be the one taken by the Israel
ites. We took Wady Soolah, to the right, the shorter but more
d ificult route ; and difficult, indeed, we found it. The appear¬
ance of the mountains was strange indeed. Here was nature
in her primitive dishabille ; unrobed—divested of those append¬
ages and adornments of subsoil, mold, variegated carpets, and
overshadowing forests, with which, in more favored lands, she
contrives .to hide her primeval ruggedness. The mountains
lifted their tall, granite heads in sullen, frowning majesty. But
in the convulsions of nature by which they were lifted upward
they had been rent asunder, and boiling streams of various
colors injected through them with which they were now
streaked from top to bottom. "What a country for a geologist !
Here he might revel among primitive, secondary and tertiary
formations—granite, sandstone, porphyry and chalk—now a
huge elevation of white clay, now a pyramid of yellow sand—
alluvial deposits, the torrents of past ages have molded into
shape, but have not entirely swept away—now a range of low,
black-looking hills, that one says, " seem to be the ruins, the
cinders of mountains calcined to ashes, like the heaps of a giant
foundry." All seems to conspire to convince you that " you are
traveling in the very focus of creative pOwer." The mountain
elevations, the precipitous bluffs, the deep, dark glens, the
black and barren hills^ the enormous bowlders of the valleys
and ravines, all conspire to impress the mind. The scenery
cannot be called beautiful—it is grand, suWime, awful.
ACACIA, SHITTÍM WOOD.
As we passed on, the wildness of the scenery seemed to in¬
crease. At 12 o'clock we stopped in the scanty shade of an
acacia tree, to take our lundh. We spread our blanket upon
the sand—for it must ever be borne in mind, that nature keeps
274
E#1PT ANi) SINAI.
no carpeted floors in these secluded regions. While we are
eating, we may take a more scrutinizing look at the tree under
which we are sitting. It is the wild acacia. The Arabs and
Egyptians call it " sont." It is a thorny tree, very much re¬
sembling our locust. There are different varieties of it. One
>s supposed to be the " seneh," or " senna," the burning bush of
öiuai. A different variety of the same tree is supposed to be
the " shittah," and which, from its thick and tangled Branches,
receives in scripture the plural form of the'name, shittim. This
variety of tree is found not only through these desert regions,
where the valleys afford moisture enough to support vegetation,
but also abounds in Egypt, an'd is sometimes found, though
rarely, in Palestine. It is from a variety of this tree the old
Arabic frankincense is said to be obtained.
The inquiry often arose in my own mind : " Could it have
been from these trees that the noble planks that constituted the
sides of the tabernacle were formed ? " They were, reckoning
the cubit at eighteen inches—and many reckon it at twenty-one
—^fifteen feet long and twenty-seven inches broad. There are,
certainly, no trees now in this region from which boards of this
size could be cut. But as we have said before, no doubt but
great changes have taken place in these valleys since Israel en¬
camped among them, and from what the trees are now, we can
form but little idea of what they were then. The whole bibli¬
cal narrative implies a far different state of things in this re¬
gion, from that which now exists. But it is by no means cer¬
tain that this is the tree of the shittim wood. The principal
reason for supposing it such, is, that it is now the largest tree
found in the desert. The Septuagint translates the Hebrew
shittim, "incorruptible wood," but gives us no clue to the variety
of tree from which it was cut. The wood of some varieties of
this acacia is hard, fine grained, and capable of a beautiful pol¬
ish. The reader may be curious to know what other trees and
plants we met with in this desert region worthy of notice.
Among them we may mention the
KETEM, oa WILD BROOM.
This plant gives its name to one of the encampments of the
PLANTS OF THE DESERT.
275
Israelites, N"um. xxiii. 18. Eithma. This, by many, is identified
with the Juniper, under which Elijah slept when he fled into
the wilderness from the cruel persecutions of Jezebel and A hab.
From Beersheba he went into the great wilderness where Moses,
years before, had led the people of God. Faint and weary,*
and wishing he might die, he lay down under one of these de
sert shrubs to sleep. Here the angel of the Lord found him,
awoke him, and gave him the food, upon the strength of which
he went forty days unto the Mount of God, the mount whither
we are now wending our steps.
A singular allusion is made to this plant by the Psalmist :
"What shall be given unto thee, or what shall be done unto
thee, thou false tongue? Sharp arrows of the mighty with
coals of Juniper." He seems to consider the coals of this plant
as aflbrding the fiercest fire of any combustible mattßp,''and the
subjugation of the lying tongue to its fierce and devouring fire,
its most appropriate punishment. Its twigs are long, round
and tough ; it grows low, thick and scrubby, and bears a white
blossom.
There is another plant here worthy of our attention. Fre¬
quently, as you look upon these steep precipices, you will see a
bright, green plant or vine, taking root in some fissure in the
rocks, and hanging like a pendant high in the air. In this
plant it is supposed we have
THE HYSSOP OP THE BIBLE.
The Bedawins called it "lasaf" or "aszef;" among English
travelers it is known as the " caper plant." That it grew in
such positions as we here find it is evident from what is said in
the fourth chapter of 1st Kings, in speaking of Solomon's bo¬
tanical writings: "He spoke of trees from the cedar tree that
s in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the
wall." In reference to some allusions to the use of this plant
in the Hew Testament, it is said there were two kinds of it,
the wild or mountain hyssop, and the cultivated, growing in
open fields or gardens, having a strong stalk. The hyssop of
the Old Testament seems to be a soft, flexible, bushy plant, of
276
EGYPT AND SINAI.
which a sort of broom could be made for aprinkling blood 01
Water.
From this plant probably came the green branches used ic
the religious ceremonies of the Hebrews. It grows in this de
sert on the most barren soil and rocky precipices. It has always
been supposed to possess medicinal virtues and cleansing pro¬
perties. It was first used by the Israelites on that fearful night
before their departure out of Egypt, to sprinkle the blood of the
paschal lamb upon their door-posts, which was to be the token
of their safety when the destroying angel went through the
land. It ever afterwards continued to be used in all their reli¬
ions ceremonies in sprinkling the cleansing Waters and the
sacrificial blood, which were made types of purification. Some
of my readers would like to know what I learned of
THE MANNA PLANT.
I saw it frequently, and brought home a cane I cut from one
of the bushes. "And was the manna upon which the children
of Israel so long fed, really the product of that plant?" I ap¬
prehend their manna was a very diflferent thing, and produced
from à very different source. The plant that produces the
manna of commerce, is called by the Arabs "turfa;" Frank
travelers call it tamarisk. It is a thick, bushy tree, the tallest
ones I saw not over fifteen or twenty feet high. It has no
thorns, and has a long, narrow, bright, green leaf. The leaves
are so slim and thickly set, one calls it the feathery tamarisk.
How large it would grow under favorable circumstances, can
scarcely be inferred from the stunted growth of thèse valleys^
where the requMtes of soil and water are poorly supplied.
Doctor Robinson, who gathered a more particular accoimt
of this product of the desert from the monks of the convent at
Sinai than I was able to do, tell us the manna " is found in the
form of shining drops on the twigs and branches, not on the
leaves of this turfa. It exudes in consequence ot the puncture
of an insect. If has the appearance of gum, is of a sweetish
taste, and melts when exposed to the sun or fire. "What falls
upon the sand is not gathered." "We are also informed that it
IS not produced every year. After a supply of #ne year has
ISRAELITES QATHERINQ MANNA.
THE MANNA.
279
been gathered, five or six years sometimes elapse before any
considerable quantity of it again appears. Of late years but
little of it has been produced, occasioned, probably, by the
diminution of the plant from which it distills. The Arabs
gather it and bring it into the convent at Sinai, where pots of
it can sometimes be bought from the monks. An inferior an
adulterated form of it can be also found in our apothecary
shops.
Such is the manna of the desert, and of the present day.
How difièrent from that bread with which God fed his people
in this same wilderness ! I know that some have affected to
believe, and attempted to prove, that this gum of the turfa
must have been Israel's food. They tell us Moses was intimate¬
ly acquainted with the whole country, and thus was enabled to
guide the Israelites by the routes best supplied with these
manna trees. But what intelligent person can for a moment
entertain this supposition? This production of the Arabian
desert is called by the same name, but aside from this it has
scarce a single property in its nature, or a single circumstance
in its production, in common with the manna of the Exodus.
Of the manna of the Bible, not one word is said about its being
the product of a tree or bush. "When the dew fell upon the camp
in the night the manna fell upon it. "When thfi dew that lay
was gone up, behold, upon the face of the desert a small round
thing, small as the hoar-frost upon the ground ; and it was like
coriander seed, white ; and the taste of it was like wafers with
honey." Ex. xvi. 14.
The product of the turfa is rather a drug or medicine than
an article of diet, and is used only for medical purposes. It
falls on the ground only by accident or from neglect, and when
it has so fallen it is unfit to be gathered. It is only during a
few weeks of the year that it exudes from the punctured limbs
or twigs ; and as for quantity, as at present produced, the supply
is very meagre, and were it fit for food, and the whole penin¬
sula a thicket of turfa trees, the quantity produced would be
far from sufficient to supply two millions or more of people.
The manna of the Exodus fell upon the ground ; it fell all
the vear round, and in such quantities as to yield a bountiful
280
EGYPT AND SINAI.
supply for all the men, women and children of the vast
concourse that were journeying to the Promised Land. It
seems to have constituted by far the greater portion of their
sustenance. They gathered it from the earth—aground it in
mills, or beat it in mortars—baked it in pans, and made it into
cakes—and its taste was " as the taste of fresh oil." For one,
I could never look upon this manna of the days of Moses as
any thing but
A PERPETUAL MIBAdLE.
A miracle renewed day by day, following the Israelites for
forty years through all these winding paths, in this great and
terrible wUderness. It was certainly a strange and marvelous
kind of food provided for the exigencies of the occasion. It
had a mysterious and supernatural origin. It had never been
heard of before, and has never been seen since. The Israelites
had come to their eighth encampment in the wilderness ; their
scanty supply of flour and unleavened bread brought from
Egypt was exhausted ; they began to murmur against Moses^
and against Aaron ; they wished they had stayed and died in
the land of Egypt, where they sat by the flesh-pots and did eat
bread to the full.
But God had his own great purposes to accomplish concern¬
ing them. A night of murmuring and discontent slowly wore
away. In the morning, when the dew was gone up from the
face of the wilderness, " there lay upon the ground a small round
thing." It was strange in its appearance, and pleasant to the
taste, and scattered with astonishing profusion all about the
camp. They did not know what it was. The Hebrew, man-hUf
we are told literally signifles, what is it? And they said,
"man-hu?" What is it? "for they knew not what it was."
Moses answered, " This is the bread which the Lord hath give«
you to eat."
There was a mystery about this, and this mystery was per¬
petuated in the very name by which it was then, and has ever
since been designated. Man-hu? what is it? Who, to this
day, knows? only that it was food provided for the people of
God, in a barren wilderness, by the direct agency of the Al
MIRACLE OF THE MANNA.
281
loighty. And this allusion to the mystery of the manna sug¬
gests another thought as to
ITS SPIEITUAL SIQNIPIOANOB.
We are taught it was the type of Christ Jesus, the living
ei>iritual bread, with which God feeds his redeemed and spirit¬
ual people in their passage through the wilderness of this world
to the true Canaan of everlasting rest. And what do we know
of Him more than they knew of this strange bread in the wil¬
derness? How strange and wonderful the manner in which he
made his appearance in the world! His mother could not
comprehend it, and pondered the mysterious events in her
heart. The learned doctors in the temple were filled with sur¬
prise and astonishment. John the Baptist knew him not, only
as he was revealed by the Holy Spirit. Delegations were sent
from priests and rulers to inquire, " "Who art thou ? " He came
unto his own, and his own knew him not. "Who is he? was
the universal inquiry. Man-hul What is it? was heard from
every class, and the most they could learn was, " I am the liv¬
ing bread that came down from heaven, which God hath given
for the life of the world."
HOME OF OUR SHEIK.
While we have been looking at these trees and plants, oui
lunch has been finished, and we have been refreshed by an
hour's rest, and again we must be toiling along our mountain
pathway. About half-past 3 o'clock we passed the home of our-
sheik. In a valley among the hills, twenty-five or thirty low,
black tents marked the resting place of his family, and the por¬
tion of his tribe among which he held a sort of patriarchal
dominion. He invited us to stop and share the hospitality of
his family and people, offering to entertain us for the night ;
but it was not consistent with our plans, and we passed on.
As we rode by the tents, several dirty, ragged children came
out to gaze at us. One of them, a girl ten or twelve years old,
the sheik caught in his arms and kissed with apparent tender¬
ness and afiection, informing us she was his daughter. I took
282 EGYPT AND SINAI.
kindly notice of her, and gave her some dried fruit I had in mjr
bag, at which the old sheik seemed highly pleased.
An hour and a half more and we had overtaken our baggage
camels. Our tents had been pitched and were ready for our re¬
ception ; our cook was busy at his duties over his smoking Äre
and steaming kettles. An hour or two more and the light of
our camp-fires had gone out ; the curtains of night vailed tent,
camel and Bedawin, and deep sleep settled down upon us. To¬
morrow we expect to camp at the base of Sinai—the Mount of
Gqd.
March Zd. Before the sun had risen high enough to peep in
among the mountain recesses, Mohammed had given us the
morning call, for we had before arranged for an early start
"We were now in an elevated mountain region. The night had
been cold. The white frost was around us, reminding us most
impressively of what is said of the manna—^that small round
thing that lay like the hoar-frost upon the ground. Our course
was at first along Wady Soolah. It is a barren, rocky valley,
similar to those we have before described—^to the right and left
tall granite peaks, and all around us hoary rocks and deep and
dismal caverns. For a time we passed over an uneven, diluvial
formation—^heaps of earth and beds of gravel, while great
granite bowlders were scattered in every direction. The valley
now narrowed upon us, and we entered a defile known among
the Arabs as
NÜBK HAWT, THE WINDY PASS.
We have before spoken of the rocky stairway by which we
ascended from the sea into the mountain cluster of Serbal
We had now another ascent to make by this difficult pass into
a second and higher stage of this mountain sanctuary. Our
pathway was constantly becoming more rugged and difficult.
The bare granite rocks were streaked with veins of various
colored porphyry. Sometimes the predominance of iron in
these rocks gave them a charred and blackened appear¬
ance, as though a forest of vegetation had been burned upon
them. A wilder, rougher, more desolate looking place can
scarcely be conceived. You are completely shut in by the great
A MOUNTAIN PATHWAY.
28S
clifí'B that rise frowning and terrific from ten to fifteen hundred
feet above you. In some places they seem to hang in jagged
masses over your head, and you almost tremble lest some top¬
pling fragment should come crashing down from its fearful
Ifight, charged with a death-warrant for both rider and beast.
Our pathway was a bed of rocks. In some places it seemed
like stairs of stone, laid by the hand of the Omnipotent Crea
Lor. In some places the hand of art had facilitated the passage,
by removing some of the topmost blocks, or putting in others,
where it was necessary to gain a foothold. Our camels toiled
slowly and laboriously along the ragged ascent. Sometimes
the passage between the jutting point of rocks was so narrow
our beasts with their loads could scarcely pass. Often our dri¬
vers had to walk by their side to steady their burdens for them.
One, heavily laden, overcome by fatigue, lay down upon the
rocky .path with piteous cries and groans, and his load had to
be placed upon others. Fearful of a fall, I dismounted from
my camel, and clambered over the rocks on foot.
In the midst of this rugged, gloomy scenery, surrounded by
bare, bleak rocks, the valley a water-course, where wintry tor¬
rents sweep with awful violence, the thought of human inhab¬
itants would be the last suggestion of the solitary place. But
lo ! here comes bounding over the rocks, with the agility of a
fawn, a bare-headed, bare-legged, swarthy Arab boy, apparently
about ten years old. He approaches without any apparent
signs of fear, and with the air of a confidence-man, stretches
out his hand, and once more you hear the everlasting greeting
of the tribe—backsheesh. Like an apparition he appeared;
like an apparition we treated him; and like one, he as quickly
vanished among the rocks.
EMEBOINO EBOM THE PASS
At last we gained the summit of this outer mountain wall,
which seems like one of nature's ramparts, guarding the passage
to the secluded recesses of Sinai. At frequent intervals might
be seen, sometimes on thé precipitous bluffs, and sometimes on
fallen fragments, some of those strange and unintelligible in¬
scriptions of which we have before spoken, ■ Gradually the val-
19
EGYPT AND SINAI.
ley widened, and the rugged aspect of the road wore away.
Occasionally, an acacia or a clump of tamarisk relieved the ste*
rility of the scene. On we rode, the valley still widening. I
had again mounted my camel and was riding leisurely along,
when suddenly I thought I heard the faint, piping voice of
children, as if close to me. I sent a searching glance about,
but saw no signs of human habitation. Was I mistaken? 1
had scarce time for a moment's thought, and again my ear
caught the faint sound. Looking down, I perceived, close to
the side of the path, and almost under my camel's feet, thi^
little Arab children, sitting close together squat upon the
ground. Two of them had each a bundle of dirty rags tied
about the waist; the third, a repulsive looking little thing, had
only an old bit of a rug hanging upon the back by a string tied
round the neck. This constituted the child's entire wardrobe.
Each had an open hand extended upward in imploring atti¬
tude, and again I heard in the faint treble of children, the word
that becomes so familiar to every Frank traveler—backsheesh,
backsheesh ! Poor little wretches-—before I could lift a han^
my camel had strode by them, and wh?it use they could make
of backsheesh in that lone spot I could scarcely conjecture.
About 11 o'clock, after two hours' hard climbing in the
rocky ravine, we emerged into Wady Bahah. Soon a sudden
turn in the road brought us upon the entrance to an open plain,
across which we could look in a southeasterly direction be¬
tween three and four miles. At the farther end of this, rising
directly from the plain, towered up a sublime mountain eleva¬
tion—it was the long desired object of our pilgrimage—the Moüei
OF God.
Our approach to it, encampment, and visit to the convent ami
mountain, will be the theme of our next chapter.
FIKST VIEW OP SINAI.
CHAPTER XIII.
Esícampmbnt at Mount Sinai—Visit to the Convent—^De¬
scription op the Mountain—Its Pbculiíritiis.
We are now diawing near the hallowed mount from which
the law of God was given. Our. approach is from the north¬
ward over the Plain of Rahah, which means, Plain of Best, be¬
cause, on this plain the children of Israel are supposed to have
had their grand encampment during all the time of the giving
of the law, and the building of the tabernacle. Our ride over
this plain, of which we shall speak hereafter, towards the
mount, occupied about an hour. The bold and frowning front
of Iloreb was directly before us, rising up from the plain in an
almost perpendicular wall from two to three thousand feet into
the air. The sight was grand and majestic beyond description.
The emotions of my own heart were too deep and powerful for
utterance. With awe and reverence, I approached the theatre
of those awful and impressive scenes, that more than three
thousand years ago filled with astonishment and affright the
assembled hosts of Israel.
As we approached, we were straining our eyes to catch a first
view of human habitation. Soon the tall, dark forms of a few
sypress trees arrested our attention, standing like giant senti-
uels over some memorial spot—now the green foliage of some
smaller trees—then the wall of the garden, and the fort-like in-
closure—and now the entire convent of St. Catharine, with all
its appendages, was full in view, resting in cheerfulness and
beauty upon the eastern base of Sinai. It was an animating
sight. Here was an oasis in the desert—an abode of civiliza-
tiou_^the Mount of God. Here the end of our joumeyings ;
and here, after so many days of weary travel, we were to find
rest and refreshment. More than all, here we were to visit the
S86
EGYPT AND SINAí.
place where Moses lived; .where he led his flocks; where
saw the burning bush ; where he received his Divine commis*
sion to return to the court of Pharaoh and demand the release
of God's captive people.
Between 12 and 1 o'clock we pitched our tents close at thi
foot of Eas Safsafah, the Mount Horeb of the monks, and about
ten minutes' walk from the convent. A few rods from us, flow
ing directly from a crevice in the granite rock of the mountain,
was a copious stream of pure sweet water. How refreshing,
after the stale water we had so long drank ! for up to this time,
aside from the stream in "Wady Feiran, we had depended upon
the supply we had brought from the Nile, and that was now
nine days old. Our camp matters settled, and dinner dis¬
patched, the first thing in our arrangements was to make
A VISIT TO THE CONVENT
We hastily arranged our toilet—and in this we had no great
preparation to make — and with our letters of introduction we
stood under the walls of the convent of St. Catharine. These
we found to be quite formidable, towering some thirty feet
above our head. Of this convent, and the summit of Sinai
rising bold and ragged behind it, the accompanying engraving
presents one of the most accurate views I have seen. The con¬
vent is an irregular quadrangular building, two hundred and
forty-five feet by two hundred and four feet. It is surrounded
by thick and lofty walls. These are built mostly of granite,
but they have been patched here and there with various kinds
of materials, representing various ages and stages of its his¬
tory. Little towers were built upon the walls, and occasionally,
looking out from a port-hole, was seen the rusty end of a small,
antique-looking gun, that, from appearance, might date anterior
to the crusades. From the bottom of a roofed projection in
the wall, more than twenty feet above our heads, in answer to
our call, a trap door was opened upwards; two great ropes,
with hooks attached to the ends, were let down by a windlass,
with a request to "send up our letters-" We attached our
letters from the head convent at Cairo, and they were drawn
up. After waiting about fifteen or twenty minutes, during
MOÜNT HOREB.
CONVENT OF ST. CATHARINE. 289
which time quite a company of Bedawin children and men had
gathered around us, a door was opened in the wall of the yard,
and a messenger appeared to escort us in. Until quite recentlv,
visitors were drawn up through the trap door. This was when
the country about was hostile. The friendly terms on which
the monks now live with the Arabs, allows them to abate much
of the vigilance and defensive attitude heretofore maintained.
We were taken into an open incloaure, between the conVbnt
and the garden, then through an intricate winding passage into
che convent itself. After ascending two or three pairs of stairs
to an upper tier of rooms, we were invited into an apartment,
with large broad divans arranged round the sides in true ori¬
ental style, and invited to a seat. Bere an official of the insti¬
tution met us, and gave us a hearty welcome. Our dragoman
actiug as interpreter, we carried on our conversation in Arabic.
We had been seated but a few minutes when a servant came in,
with water and arrack. Soon after a large plate of pressed
dates was brought in, and we were invited to partake.
We found in the convent about twenty-five monks — the
usual number maintained here of late years. I was not very
favorably impressed either with their intelligence or usefulness.
Devotion they may have, but most of them appeared like a
dull, stupid class of men. What else could we expect from the
circumstances in which they live?—rnothing to excite activity or
arouse the energies of their minds. I find in Eobinson the
following quotation from one who describes their mode of life
five hundred years ago: "They follow very strict rules; live
chastely and moderately ; are obedient to their archbishop and
prelates ; drink not wine but on Mgh festivals ; eat never flesh,
but live on herbs, .peas, and lentils, which they prepare with
water, salt and vinegar; eat together in a refectory, without a
table cloth ; perform their offices in the church with great de¬
votion day and night ; and are very diligent in all things ; so
that they fall little short of the rules of St. Anthony." Their
rules of life probably continue about the same. They are
temperate in their habits, and devote much time to religious
duties. It is said they usually have the ordinary prayers of the
Greek ritual seven times a day.
290
EGYPT AND SINAI.
Pilgrimages are still made by religious devotees to the cou¬
vent, but the number of late years' has greatly declined. lu
the early ages of the Christian church, of which we have
before spoken, when monasticism and pilgrimages were recton-
ed among the most acceptable acts of devotion, large numbers
flocked to this desert, and to the holy mount. It is said that in
1398, besides this convent, there were six others existing in
difi'erent parts of the peninsula, besides a number of chapels
and hermitages. They have also here a tradition, that at the
time of the Mohammedan conquest, six to seven thousand
monks and hermits wére scattered among these mountains
It is not a hundred years since large caravans of pilgrims
passed this way. It is said that a document preserved in the
convent, mentions the arrival in one day of eight hundred
Armenians from Jerusalem ; and at another time of five hun¬
dred Copts from Cairo. We found in the convent about thirty
liussian pilgrims, who had come in from Cairo. They had
been in the convent about two weeks, and were expecting to
leave in a day or two. Comparatively few pilgrims now find
their way to this desert shrine. We were invited to remain
and live in the convent during our stay at the mount; but
for several reasons we preferred remaining in our tents.
Having two or three hours to spend, we proposed to improve
it by taking a walk about the convent, and one of the monks
was deputed to act as our guide.
THE HISTORT OF THE CONVENT.
This convent is an ancient one ; so much so that much ob¬
scurity rests upon its early history. That the Mount of God
and the place of the burning bush should have been earlj
selected and placed among the sacred localities, might be ex¬
pected. We may, therefore, look for the founding of this con¬
vent among the earliest of this class of institutions. It is
impossible now to tell when Christians first penetrated these
unfrequented and inhospitable regions. Very soon after the
crucifixion of the Savior, and when converts began to multi¬
ply, fierce persecutions arose, and believers sought every possible
refuge to escape impending death. Sinai had undoubtedly been
CONVENT OF ST. CATHARINE.
291
kept alive in the memory of the Jews. It had been a refuge
for Elijah, fleeing from the persecutions of treacherous Ahab,
and the more vindictive Jezebel ; and it might now again have
become an asylum of refuge for the followers of the cross.
Paul, after his conversion, spent several years in retirement,
lie tells us he went into Arabia, and the forcible illustration he
.tses to the Galatians, in which he speaks of Hagar and Mount
Siuai, has given rise to the idea that he had taken lessons in.
theology among the dells and mountain scenery where Moses
led his flocks.
It is well known that these mountain regions swarmed with
Christian devotees before any convent walls were erected for
their defense. These solitary exiles were drawn together by
the necessities of their position, and regular communities were
organized. In A. D. 373, the monks here were almost exter¬
minated by the Arabs. Common wants and common dangers
led to the adoption of common means of support and defense,
and monasteries were one of the natural results.
Of the founding of this convent, Stanley says: "Ho Arab,
or Egyptian, or Syrian patriarch erected that massive pile ; no
pilgrim princess—^no ascetic king. A Byzantine emperor, the
most wordly of his race, the great legislator, Justinian, was its
founder. The fame of his architectural magnificence, which
has left its monuments in the most splendid churches of Con¬
stantinople and Havenna, had penetrated even to the hermits
of Mount Sinai. And they, when they heard that he delighted
to build churches and found convents, made a journey to him,
and complained how the wandering sons of Ishmael were wont
to attack them suddenly, eat up their provisions, desolate the
place, enter the cells and carry ofif every thing—how they also
broke into the church and devoured even the holy wafers.''
The particular spot upon which the convent was to be placed,
had been marked out by another person,
THE BENOWNED HELENA.
She was tñe mother of Constantino, and in the latter part of
her life a religious devotee of the strictest kind. Her devotion,
however, assumed an active, form. Instead of shutting herself
292
EGYPT AND 81NAI.
up in monastic seclusion, with a superstitious zeal, commend¬
able for its energy and activity, but reprehensible, perhaps, from
its fanaticism and credulity, she devoted herself to the discovery
of holy sites, and the erection upon them of monuments and
churches. Soon after A. D. 300, at^the advanced age of nearly
fourscore years, but with the elastic spirit and vigor of youth,
she made a journey to Palestine, founded the Church of the
.Nativity at Bethlehem, another upon the Mount of Ascension,
and made at Calvary, as many affect to believe, the discoverj
of the true cross ! In her pilgrimages, Sinai was not forgotten
Hither she bent her steps, and near the well of Jethro dis
covered the actual spot upon which the burning bush stood ^
and upon that spot erected a memorial tower. The spot thus
previously selected and honored, was chosen by Justinian as an
appropriate place for a Christian refuge and fortress. Around
this little church or tower of Helena clustered the buildings
of the convent. The lapse of time has wrought great changes
in the interior. Once, it is said, there were thirty-wn chapels,
each devoted to the worship of a separate sect. Now the
G-reek ritual only is chanted here.
Thus we see we are within the precincts of an ancient, and,
to many, a sacred structure, which has long been a Christian
sanctuary and refuge. The wild sons of Ishmael have hunted
upon these mountains the devotees of the Savior. The re¬
ception of Mohammedanism by these wandering tribes, did not
in the least abate their hostility toward the children of the
cross. Again and again these very walls have been besieged
by these untamed and merciless devotees of the Prophet, who
made the crescent under which they fought an apology for the
most barbarous and bloodthirsty massacres. Thanks to the
«milder reign of justice and religious toleration, for the peace
and security now enjoyed. The increasing influence of these,
among both the followers of the crescent and the cross, have
become a stronger safeguard than towering walls and all the
dread artillery of war.
The religious consequence and importance of the convent
have long since passed away. It is still, however, a great con¬
venience to visitera at Sinai, for the supplies they afford to
MOUNT SINAI AND THE CONVENT OF ST. CATHARINE
A SANCTUARY IN THE DESERT. 295
travelers, the guides they furnish for mountain excursions, and
the protection they are able to render in cases of necessity. It
is truly refreshing to the weary traveler .to find such a retreat
in the midst of such barrenness and desolation. After so many
long days of weary travel, scarcely meeting a human being,
and, then no one that can speak your language, or sympathize
with you in your devotions, .you are prepared, from the con¬
trast, to receive a deeper and more favorable impression in your
visit to this lone sanctuary of the mountains. You look Vrith
ielight upon that garden, not of palm, acacia and tamarisk,
but of the olive, the almond„ the apple, the cypress and poplar.
You hear with delight, not the shrill call of the muzzein, but
the deep-toned bell, in accents of music, inviting to Christian
prayer.
THE INTBBTOR OF THE CONVENT.
Of the architecture of the interior, the annexed picture will
give you some idea, better, perhaps, than could be conveyed by
words. You need not look for the neatness and the beauty ot
our modem homes, but coarse stone walls, rough coats of
plaster, long, unhewn palm trunks for joists, and crumbling
stucco, on layers of reeds, for roofs; and, if you are at all sensi¬
tive, prepare yourself for the harrassing assaults of those
stealthy little hopp.ing intruders, whose acquaintance you will
be compelled to make, for the convent is as full of them as a
Bedawin's cassock. Small as the place inclosed is, it is so cut
up into courts, chapels, narrow avenues, and apartments of
various kinds, that a stranger easily gets lost amid its dark and
intricate passage?. Before you descend to the court below, step
into this room and see the Convent Library.
Here are ancient tomes of Arabic, Greek and Latin—sprinted
Greek, 1,500 volumes ; Arabic manuscripts, according to Burck-
hart, 700. These are said to contain lives of saints, rituals and
other matter of but little consequence. Two works only, in
this place, specially arrest the traveler's attention, and are con¬
sidered worthy of a place in his note book. One is a curious
copy of the Psalter in Greek, written by a female, on twelve
pages, each less than the size of one of the pages of this book.
296
EGYPT AND SINAI.
The handwriting is very neat, but so exceedingly fine and deb
cate that it cannot be read without the aid of a powerful mag¬
nifying glass. The other is a beautiful manuscript copy of .the
four gospels," written on a superior article of vellum, in double
columus, and in letters of gold. It is ornamented with illumi¬
nated portraits of the apostles. The amount of time bestowed
upon some of these ancient manuscripts must have been enor¬
mous ; but what else had these secluded monks to do? Recent
researches among the moidering tomes of these ancient mo¬
nasteries, are bringing to light some valuable contributions to
the literature of early times. Descending from the upper
rooms to the court below, we are taken to
THE WELL OF MOSES.
This spring is pointed out as the place where Moses drev
water for the flocks of Jethro, and a little up the valley to the
left is a round-topped hill, which tradition has fixed upon as
the site of Jethro's house. There is of course nothing improb¬
able in the story that makes this the scene of that interesting
episode in the life of Moses that resulted in his introduction
into the family of Jethro. He fled from Egypt and dwelt in
the land of Midian. The seven daughters of the priest of
Midian came to draA^ water for their flocks, and the shepherds
came and drove them away. But Moses took their part and
helped them. "When this came to the ears of their father, he
was invited to their home, and was content to dwell with them^
and Zipporah, one of these daughters, became his wife. If this
was indeed the place, how interesting the events connected with
it ! It was a great descent from the luxurious court of Pha¬
raoh to the humble home and servile life of the desert. But
"he was content" to dwell here. He was in the path of duty;
and the path of duty, however far down into the vale of humil¬
iation it may lead, is the sure path to promotion. He made
himself useful in the first things that came to hand, and God
soon gave him greater work to do. He was fiaithfol in small
things, and God soon committed great trusts to his care. An
humble calling and employment in menial duties is no disgrace
The shepherd watching his flocks is as much under the eye ot
VISIT TO THE CONVENT.
297
Jehovah as the king on his throne. From the lowly occupa
tlons of life Christ chose his disciples, and from such occupa¬
tions many a one has been raised up to sit v^ith kings and
princes, and occupy places of the highest honor and authority ;
and even if such rewards are not bestowed in this life, there
are crowns^ and honor, and glory, for every faithful one, how
ever lowly, in the life to come. The monks keep a cup chained
to the fountain, and taking a diink from its paters, we passed
on and entered
THE CHURCH OE THE T B A H 8 F IO UB A TIO N.
This is a curious and interesting place. It is hung with nu¬
merous pictures—representations of scripture scenes, apostles,
saints and martyrs—and some portions of it furnished in a
costly and curious manner. The floor is a beautiful specimen
of tesselated marble pavement, while the altar, screens, and
other fixtures are beautifully embellished with gold. The
vaulted roof of the chancel, finished with costly and elaborate
mosaic work, is the crowning beauty of the whole. The
central part of this is a rich mosaic, representing the transfigur¬
ation. The figure of Christ occupies the centre. Moses stands
upon the right, and Elijah upon the left. The three apostles
are beneath. Péter prostrate upon the ground. A large border
encircles the whole. In this are wrought numerous busts of
apostles, martyrs and saints, in oval tablets. There is a Greek
inscription around the lower part of the great picture, of which
the following is a translation :
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost :
" The whole of this work was ezecoted for the salvation of those
who have contributed to it by their donations, under Longinus,
the most holy priest and prior."
Behind the altar, standing upon an elevated platform, is a
small marble sarcophagus. In this are deposited the remains
of the revered
ST. CATHARINE.
Several fabulous legends have been interwoven with the his¬
tory of her life and death. She died at Alexandria, and her
298
EGYPT AND SINAI.
lifeless body, as the romance informs us, was taken by angels,
conveyed to the Sinai desert, and deposited upon the top of the
highest peak in the peninsula. To this peak her name .has
been attached, and Jebel Catharine, or Mount Catharine, is
prominent among the noted places of this vicinity. It is often
ascended by travelers for the commanding view that can be
obtained from its summit over nearly the whole of the peniu«
sula. A rock upon the top of this mountain has been molded,
by some freak of nature, into the form of a human body. The
trunk is headless, and the arms appear swathed and pinioned
like those of a mummy. "With this singular, rock the monks
have associated the name and story of the spirit-wafted body
of Catharine ; and here, they tell us, the form first rested after
its singular serial fiight. The bones of thfe real body, as the
legend goes on to inform us, were taken by these mountain
anchorites and conveyed to Mount Sinai, and she became the
patron saint of the convent, and from her it received its name.
The marble chest in which the remains repose is kept securely
locked, and it is said that only the skull and one hand remain.
These are richly set in gold. From the Church of the Trans¬
figuration a few steps brought us into
THE CHAPEL OF THE BURNING BUSH.
This owes its location to the keen-sightedness of St. Helena
m discovering sacred localities. By what holy instincts the
precise spot was so accurately determined we are not informed.
"We were not conscious of being so near holy ground, when
our guide motioned to us to take off our shoes, setting us an
example by laying his own aside. The entrance to the chapel
is from the rear of the altar of the Church of the Transfigura¬
tion. The votive offerings of pious pilgrims are numerous, and
a number of rich lamps are suspended from the ceiling, in two
or three of which a faint light is kept continually burning.
We followed our guide to a little recess in the farther end of
the chapel. A small spot, about three feet one way and two
the other, was covered by a kind of altar and overhung with
nchly wrought tapestiy. The space beneath was overlaid with
platen of burnished silver, and the floor about spread with cost-
A CONSECRATED SPOT.
299
ÎJ pieces of carpet. Our monk fell upon his knees and rever¬
ently kissed the place. " This," he said, " is the identical spot
where stood the burning bush." .Of course we could have but
little confidence in the story that had thus definitely located the
place ; but whether this was the exact place or not, the great
%ct remains unchanged, the burning bush is one of the great
miracles and mysteries of God's communion with men. "We
realized this now as never before, for if not on this very spot, it
was in this immediate vicinity the great wonder was seen. My
\magination pictured Moses, in the obscurity of his retirement,
leading his fiocks about the mount, and patiently waiting in
Ihis humble calling till God should call him to a more active
and honorable position. Here the Lord appeared to him in a
Game of fire out of the midst of a thorny bush; and, behold!
•ihe hush burned with fire and was not consumed! "And
Moses said, I will turn aside and see this great sight." In the
obscurity and solitude of these mountain dells, Moses was learn¬
ing lessons the populous city and the splendors of the court of
Pharaoh could never teach; and from here he received his
çreat commission to act as the deliverer of his "people. From
the chapel of the burning bush we passed to
THE MOSQUE AND GARDEN.
The incongruity of a Mohammedan mosque in a Christian
convent may need explanation. The story is too long for in¬
sertion here, but it originated in an order from Selim, the Otto¬
man emperor, to have all the Christian establishments in the
peninsula of Sinai destroyed. The priests of this convent, learn¬
ing that preparations were being made in Egypt to execute this
barbarous decree, immediately went to work and built a mosque
within their walls. This show of subserviency to the reigning
powers and the followers of the Prophet saved them, and the
mosque has ever since remained. Though long kept in repair,
it is now in a dirty, dilapidated condition ; and it is said the call
to prayer is never heard from its minaret, unless chance or ultra
piety brings some Mohammedan dignitary to the place.
From the interior of the convent we were taken to the con¬
vent garden. This is on the north of the convent, inclosed by
20
300
EGYPT ANi> SINAI.
a high stone wall, and is reached by a low and partly subterrane
an passage, strongly secured by an iron door. It appears to best
advantage, from the fact of its being a green and cultivated
spot in the midst of the surrounding sterility and desolation
Various kinds of vegetables and several kinds of fruit trees are
cultivated here. The beauty of spring was upon the spot—^the
trees were in full blossom, filling the air with their rich fra¬
grance. Much as has been done in reclaiming this spot from
the general barrenness of the desert ; much more might be done
by greater industry upon the part of the monks. I saw a num¬
ber of places in this vicinity where there were large patches of
soil that would have well repaid the labor of cultivation, could
the hand of industry have been laid upon them.
Our guide called our attention to a certain bush growing in
the garden, and on inquiry, we were assured it was the identical
kind of bush from which Moses cut his rod ! It grew to the
hight of about twenty feet, throwing up numerous smooth
branches or stalks from the bottom, like our elder bush. Ob¬
serving one of these branches broken at the root, I inquired of
my guide if I could be allowed to cut á walking stick from it.
To this he assented, and I took a piece of it home with me, as
a sort of sacred relic, but not, however, with any expectation
of being able to work miracles with it. But what most im¬
pressed us among all these novel sights, was
THE CHARNEL HOUSE.
This is a partly subterranean chamber in the hill-side, located
in the very midst of this verdant area. The bloom and beauty
of life above, the chill damps and repulsive odors and wasting
decay of death beneath. Some lights, a dish of coals, and a
handful of incense to destroy the unpleasant effluvia having
been procured, bent nearly double, we followed our conductor
through the low, dark, vaulted passage. Soon we emerged
into an open chamber, and the fiickering lights of our tapers
revealed the purpose to which these gloomy recesses had been
devoted. This was the cemetery of the convent. Here was
the sepulchral home of those whom death was constantly gath¬
ering unto himself from the convent above. It was literally a
A DESCENT INTO THE TOMB.
301
place'of skulls aucl human bones. We were astonished not
only at the manner in which they were kept, but at the vast
number, which, for generations and centuries, had been accumu¬
lating here. The bodies, after death, are left in some exposed
condition, until the flesh has wasted away ; and then the bones,
without winding/ sheet, pall or coffin, are stowed away in this
lone tenement of the dead.
Of these rooms there are two of about equal size, connected
by a low doorway. In each of these rooms you flrst see a huge
pile of skulls, heaped together upon the ground without any
reference to order, mingled with dirt and rubbish, and covered
with the gray, furzy mold of ages. The balance of the skele¬
ton, legs, arms and ribs, are then doubled together, so as to
secure the greatest compactness and economy of space, and
piled up, one upon another, and layer behind layer, from floor
to roof, as a farmer would cord his wood. Thus they lie, heaps
on heaps, priests, deacons and lay brethren ; friar, cenobite and
anchorite, mingled together in one indiscriminate mass—men
of all ages, from the early days of fierce persecution, to him
who died in these more peaceful times of religious toleration.
Some of the more sanctified ones are honored with a box, or
small chest, in which their bones are stowed, and some have
special prominence given them upon some niche or elevation.
The bones of others are tumbled promiscuously into a basket,
and some are suspended by cords from the roöf. Among these
are found a few church dignitaries, perhaps some pilgrim of
wealth and distinction, and the relics of a few, who had gained
superior merit by their fastings, penances, privations and ex¬
posures in their miserable mountain cells. In one corner,
perched upon a pedestal, was a skeleton, in a sitting posture,
bone settled into bone, an old silk cape, of rich material and
beautifully worked, thrown carelessly about the shoulders, and
a monk's cap on the head. His long, naked teeth grinned hor¬
ribly from beneath his strange head-dress, and the whole aspect
was so ghastly as to chill one's blood. The story of this strange
figure was told us by the monk. His self-denial, fastings, and
unusual acts of devotion, had excited the admiration of some
European princess, and the cap and cloak had been bestowed
EGYPT AND SINAÍ.
by her upon the remains as a token of high regard. In a small
box, about two feet long and eighteen inches broad, were shown
us the skeleton remains of two brothers. It is said they were
of noble birth, sons of a Persian prince; they came to this de¬
sert to end their days in religious seclusion. Actuated by a
strange fanatical zeal, they bound themselves together by a
heavy iron chain. Thus linked together by ties of kindred, by
religious vows, and the sterner outward bond of iron links and
rivets, they wore away the weary days of a life of self-inflicted
torture. Thus linked together, they faced the terrific frown of
death, and together died. And now the ghastly skeletons of
the two claim brotherhood in death; and with the links of
that same chain still unbroken, those bones are tumbled to¬
gether into this common receptacle. Of the number of these
skeleton inhabitants, I could form no conjecture, but Stevens,
who was here in 1835, says the superior of the convent told
him there were more than thirty thousand ! There was some¬
thing shocking in this promiscuous mingling together of hu¬
man bones; the air was close and suffocating, and the offensive
effluvia prevailed even over the clouds of incense that rose from
our pan of coals. "We were glad to turn our backs upon the
nauseating place, and once more breathe the pure and fragrant
air of the garden above. It was now near night, and having
finished our rambles about the convent and grounds, we made
arrangements for guides to ascend the mountain with us to¬
morrow ; and leaving a backsheesh to the monk, who had so
kindly attended us over the premises, we bade them good-night
and returned to our tent.
AEOWWITHOURSHEIK.
As we were to remain two or three days at the mount, out
sheik and camel drivers were to improve the time by making a
visit to their homes, or among other members of the tribe. In
settling for the services performed, a violent altercation took
place between our dragoman and the sheik. It was only a war
of words, but it was carried on with such angry tone and vehe-
rnence of gesticulation, it seemed to me it must terminate in
1 iolence and blood. In appearance, it was truly terrific. The
A DESSBT QUABBEL.
m
ßtoira, however, seemed at last to abate from the mere exhaus¬
tion of power in the parties ; the dissatisfied sheik sulkily with¬
drew with his animals and men, declaring he would render us
DO more assistance if we died in the desert, and Mohammed as
positively declaring that he would have nothing more to do
with him, and that neither he nor one of his men or camels
should render any assistance in returning us to Cairo.
As the contest was carried on in Arabic, I could get no clue
to it. As soon as the camp was clear and quiet restored, " Mo¬
hammed," said I, "what is the fuss?" In answer to this ques¬
tion, he very seriously informed me that he had lost from his
commissary department a tin pan, and believing that some of
the sheik's attendants had stolen it, he made him responsible for
its recovery, and, on settlement, had deducted its value, fifteen
piasters, from his wages. The sheik was highly indignant at
the insinuation against his honesty, and more enraged at the
loss of even so small a portion of his wages. "And how do you
expect to get back to Cairo?" said I. "You no need trouble
yourself about that," said he ; " that's my business. I am bound
to do that. There are other men and other camels here besides
his." tlie matter rested. But I had seen enough of Arabic
quarrels to know how it would terminate. I will be bound he
and his camels and men will be on hand "Wednesday morning,
ready to return with us. See if they are not. And now we
have a couple of hours before retiring to rest, let us improve
them by studying
t
THE TOPOGEAPHY OP THE MOUNTAIN
And the valleys about it, that we may be better prepared to
understand the localities we are about to visit, and the astonish¬
ing events that have transpired here. To aid in this, we will
draw a diagram of the place, as seen on the following page.
To this «iiagram we now invite your attention :
îio. 1 and the arrow represent the Valley of Kahah and our
approach to the mountain. In this approach we were traveling
in nearly a southeast direction, the bold granite front of the
mountain rising up before us almost perpendicularly from the
plain to the bight of near^two thousand feet. No. 2 is the same
304 EGrPT AND SINAI.
«
valley widening out into a broad plain, the Plain of Bahab, or
"Plain of Best," some call it; others, the "Inclosed Plain," for
great mountains rise up all around you, and seem to completely
encircle you with their bold ridges and lofty peaks. The plain
widens as you approach Sinai. There is a gentle ascent as you
near the mountain, until you come within about one mile of it,
PLAN OF SINAI AND HOREB.
1 Wady Bahah. 2. Plain of Bahah. 3. Wady Sheik. 4. Place of our en¬
campment. 6. Convent. 6. Mold of Aaron's calf. 7. Smitten Bock. 8. Wady
Leja. 9. "Wady. Shuayh. 10. Wady Sehayeh and hills. 11. Sand and gravel
hills. 12. Mount St. Catharine. 13. Low hills.
then there is a gentle descent towards the mountain. Thia
plain is about one mile broad. The length, of course, would
vary according to the distance the person was disposed to
measure back into the valley, where it narrows into a ravine
Robinson measured the southern slope, and" found it to be to
the base of Horeb over a mile, or, accurately, seven thousand
feet. The northern slope he judged to be somewhat less than
THlî PLAIN OP EEST.
805
a mile. I have no disposition to criticise or attempt to correct
the measurements or the judgment of one who has written so
accurately as Robinson ; but as I looked over this noble plain, I
could not but feel that if he had erred, it was in underestimat¬
ing, rather than in overrating, its size. As we approached the
mountain, from where a turn in the valley first brought us in
full view of Horeb, we rode at the usual camel pace over an
hour before we reached the base of the mountain.
At the southwest corner of this plain, you will see it again
widens, and a broad space extends into an opening among the
mountains in that direction. !N'o. 3 and the arVow pointing
outward, is "Wady es Sheik, the "Yalley of the Sheik," or
"The Valley of the Saint," so named from the tomb of some
noted personage among the Arabs, whose remains have found
a sepulchre in one part of it. The Plain of Rahah opens also
into this on the southeast, furnishing a large addition to its
area in that direction. "We are thus particular in describing
this plain, because we wish to fix the reader's attention particu¬
larly upon it, as we shall have occasion to allude to it again.
On this plain—who can doubt it who visits the spot?—was the
grand encampment of the children of Israel. From this plain
was witnessed those sublime and terrible exhibitions, that made
the mountain tremble, and the people draw back with terror
at the majesty and glory of the presence of God. îiow look
at the peculiar
SITUATION OP THE MOUNTAIN.
Opening from "Wady es Sheik just at the point li'o. 4, where
we pitched our tents, and running along up to !N'o. 5, where the
convent is located, and thence along No. 9, is another narrow
valley along the whole eastern slope of Sinai and Horeb, called
Wady Shuayb. This terminates at No. 10, along the southeast¬
ern corner of the cluster, in a broader valley, called Sebayeh,
from this a valley runs round the whole southern base towards
No, 11. There is, between Sinai and the high mountains lying
south of it, quite an open space, but it is altogether diflTerent
from the plain of Rahah upon the north. It is uneven and
broker., and covered by naked hills of sand and gravel. Stev-
306
EGYPT AND SINAI
ens, who visited it with a special view of examining its fitne^b
for a camping place for the Israelites, says of it: "It is roughs
uneven and narrow." He concludes : " It could only be taken
for the place of the encampment, if none other existed." The
.summit of Sinai here rises in a commanding form above it, but
as the mountain descends upon the plain it is rolling and brok¬
en, and mountain and plain are blended into each other.
Again, upon the western side of Sinai we have another val¬
ley, Ho. 8, called Wady Leja. This is a deep, narrow gorge,
running from the plain of Rahah all along the western base of
Sinai and Horeb to the very northern extremity, separating it
from St. Catharine, Urn Shomer and the high mountain peaks
upon the west.
Thus it will be seen we have this Mountain of the Lord,
noted for the strange and interesting events connected with it,
most strikingly and singularly located—completely separated,
as it were, by these plains, ravines and valleys, from the great
mountain piles that encircle it on every side, and completely
shut it in. A sanctuary of hills, inclosed within the mighty
ramparts that the everlasting Jehovah, with the skill and pow¬
er of Omnipotence, has heaped around it.
This elevation of hills we have thus been describing, and
which we have found so peculiarly situated, at the base is abou j
three miles long, and probably from a mile and a half to two
miles broad. Its highest elevation is, above the level of the sea,
seventy-five hundred and sixty-four feet ; above the convent in
the valley at its base, twenty-one hundred and twelve feet.
Though broken into many wild and ragged ravines and eleva¬
tions, it rises at last into two great peaks—to the southern one
the name of Sinai has been more particularly attached, to the
northern one, Horeb. The confusion and misunderstandings
that have arisen from the use of these terms, will make appro¬
priate a more particular allusion to the
NAME or THE MOUNTAIN.
The first allusion we have to the place is in Exodus üi. 1. In
speaking of Moses, we are informed " he led the fiock to the
backside of the desert, and came to the Mountain of Gk>d, even
aiNAl' AND HOEEB.
307
H Iloreb." Here it was the angel of God appeared to him
in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush. After this, we
have frequent allusions to it under the same name. In allusion
to the making of the golden calf, Israel is said to have been
" stripped of their ornaments by Mount Iloreb." The Lord is
said to have " spoken to the people in Horeb ; " and in Horeb
he made his covenant with his people. The same writer, Mo¬
ses, who uses the name of Iloreb, speaks of the same events as
occurring at Sinai. Thus he speaks of the "Lord's coming
unto them in Sinai;" "the glory of the Lord abode upon Mount
Sinai ; " " the Lord gave Moses at Mount Sinai two tables of
stone." !N"othing is plainer than that Sinai and Horeb were two
different names applied to the same locality. Some have sup¬
posed that Horeb might have been a general name applied to
a large extent of country, or a whole range of mountains, and
Sinai a particular locality or peak, but I can find no evidence
oven of that. The present application of Sinai to one peak,
and Horeb to another, is a modern appropriation of the names,
and not to be taken into the account in determining the locali¬
ty of particular scriptural events. If the earlier Christians or
modem monks chose to call the southern peak Sinai, or Jebel
Mousa, and the northern peak Horeb, it does not thence follow
that we must fix the scene of the giving of the law upon their
Sinai. Hor must we necessarily "infer, as Robinson seems to,
that because the peak now called Sinai does not overlook the
plain of Rahah, where the children of Israel must have been
encamped, that therefore Moses had nothing to do with it. It
is by no means certain, that even the monks, in fixing the name
Sinai, or Jebel Mousa—Mountain of Moses—^upon the peak that
overlooks their convent, meant thereby to be understood that
they claimed it as the place of all the wonderful phenomena
that accompanied the giving of the law. It might have been
the part of the mount upon which the burning bush was se»en,
and on this portion of it Moses might have had some of his
long interviews with God ; on another portion of it he might
have stood to receive the tables of the law, and God have
shone forth from the cloud, and appeared in glory in the pres¬
ence of all the people.
808
EGYPT AND SINAI.
Sinai and Horeb are all one mountain. As one mountaii^
separated from all about them, they spring up from the plain.
And it is not until they rise as one more than a thousand feet,
that the top is cleft asunj^er, and the tv\ro separate peaks rise in
bold and solemn grandeur, the one perhaps the scene of Moses'
retirement and communion with God, the other the consecrated
spot where the Aln^ighty stood in his glory and majesty—^the
awe-inspiring pulpit from which he proclaimed his law. And
when he touched the mount and his glory kindled upon it, it
was not one solitary peak only that felt his presence, but the
whole mountain was in a blaze, and the whbU mountain trembled
to its base.
Having thus described the locality of the mountain, and set¬
tled the application of the name, we have another question to
determine before our evening's work is done. Do these locali¬
ties correspond with the scriptural narrative? First, then, let
us raise an inquiry as to
THE DESIGN OF ISRAED'S VISIT HEBE.
In leading his people out of Egypt, God had great and im
portant ends to attain, aside from their mere settlement in the
land of their fathers. He had a revelation of himself to make—
his law to impart to them. He had to instruct them in a knowl¬
edge of their duties to him and each other. He had an im
portant system of worship to establish. An ignorant and un
disciplined mass of people were to be instructed and trained,
and brought under the restraints of law and order. A great
revolution in the moral and religious regimen of the world was
to be developed. The old patriarchal system was to be broken
up and abolished, to be supplanted by a new system of faith
and worship ; and a whole twelve-month's time was to be spent
in the inauguration and establishment of this new order of
things.
In carrying this plan into effect, two things were absolutely
essential. They must find a place in these mountain recesses
where they could be secure from their enemies, and where a
great multitude could find an appropriate place for an encamp¬
ment. That such a place was found here, we think will appear
A SECURE DWELLING PLACE.
309
evident to any one who examines, even casually, the plain and
its surroundings. Look then at
THE PLACE OP THE ENCAMPMENT.
This place we have shown you on the Plain of Bahah, and
its adjacent valleys. There is not another spot in all this re¬
gion so well adapted to it as this—a beautiful, level, gravelly
plain, of ample dimensions—a place, at that time, where con¬
siderable vegetation existed, though that was not absolutely es¬
sential, except for their animals, as their own immediate wants
were supplied by the perpetual miracle of the manna. Here,
too, was water—an abundance of good, sweet water—for the
most of the springs of the desert are found in the immediate
vicinity of Sinai.
Then, as a place of security and defense, what general could
ever have chosen a more prudent and secure position ? If the
Creator had designed it for this express purpose, could it have
been more admirably adapted? It appears that they had ene¬
mies strong and powerful. They had left an enemy behind
them in Egypt. The nations and tribes aboht looked upon
them with jealousy, and arrayed themselves in hostility against
them. Already the Amalekites had opposed them, ând they
had fought their way through Bephidim. For the peaceful
purposes of religious instruction, the establishment of law and
order, they must now have a place where they could remain
unmolested till their tuition was over. To such a place the
Lord brought them. It was a by-place, far away from the
thoroughfares of travel by the surrounding nations. It was a
quiet desert sanctuary, where they would be likely to remain
undisturbed. It was a secure, place easily defended. Look at
the diagram we have given, and observe the passes that lead to
it through those openings in the mountains. In their then
mode of warfare, a handful of men could have defended any
of these passes against a multitude. Again, it was an
ENCAMPMENT BEFOBE THE MOUNT.
In the second verse of the nineteenth chapter of Exodus we
read, that when the children of Israel removed from Bephidim
310
EGYPT AKD SINAI.
they came into the desert of Sinai, " and there Israel encamped
before the mount." The remark seems to have been a casual
one, and certainly made without any design of aiding future
visitors in fixing the locality of the plrfce ; and yet we now see
how accurately the language corresponds with the position.
The mountain we have seen, rising up in majestic altitude, its
perpendicular walls, like frowning battlements, looking down
upon the Plain of Bahah. An assembly of people resting upon
this plain, may literally and truly be said to be encamped "6e-
fore the m.ount." The existence of such a plain, in such a situa¬
tion, is, as one has said, "so remarkable a coincidence with
the sacred narrative, as to furnish a strong internal argument,
not merely of its identity with the scene, but of the scene itself
having be%p described by an eye witness." Another evidence
of a similar kind is furnished by
THE BOUNDABIES ABOUT THE MOUNT.
The directions and precautions given to Moses would, in or¬
dinary circumstances, seem very strange and unnecessary, and,
in most instances, very difficult to comply with. Grod was
about to make an exhibition of himself upon the mount, and
that mount was to be considered a sacred place. Its sanctity
must be invaded by no intruder of man or beast. " And thou
shalt set bounds to the people round about, saying, take heed
to yourselves, that ye go not up into the mount or touch the bor¬
der of it ; whosoever toucheth the mount shall surely be put to
death." Ex. xix. 12. This stern and imperative command ap¬
plied to both man and beast.
Visit almost any mountain or mountain range, and how rare
a thing it is that a mountain comes down so directly, and with
, such abrupt descent upon the plain, that you can determine
just where the mountain begins. There is usually such a ming
ling of hill and valley, of gentle ascent and descending slope,
your are often far up the ascent before you are aware that you
have reached the mountain, and it would be most difficult to
say when you had touched the borders of it. But here is a locali¬
ty, strange as it may seem, answering exactly to the scriptural
precaution given by Moses to the people. Just here by our en-
THE MOUNTAIN A WITNESS.
311
^mpmt it, and all along the base of the mountain towards the
west, as we have before noticed, this great granite wall rises so
abruptly and perpendicularly from the plain, you can come di¬
rectly up to it and lay*your hand upon it, like standing upon
the ground and laying your hand upon the perpendicular wall
of a house. And we were surprised, as we walked over the
ground, to find a long, low, alluvial mound, at a little distance
from the perpendicular clijff, and running along for a great dis¬
tance nearly parallel to it, as if left there to remind the visitor
that a boundary was once built here by the direction of the Al¬
mighty." Thus, again, have we this remarkable coincidence of
the features of the mountain and plain with the scripture nar¬
rative; another evidence, among others, that no careless or
ignorant writer was wielding the pen that recorded the phe¬
nomena and incidents of Israel's encampment on this plain.
And then, again, the locality of the plain, and the position
of the mountain as a fit and appropriate place for the people to
witness such an exhibition of the majesty and glory of God,
and from which the words of the Almighty could be addressed
to the vast multitudes, impress every beholder as he ap¬
proaches the place ; and every subsequent examination of the
localities only deepens the impressions. Surely the hand of
God is in these things. These mountain bights and plains and
valleys are pages of God's great historic book, and here he has
written lessons three thousand years have not had power to
efiace. The testimony of Moses has been perpetuated by the
hand of man, and the testimony of these desert pages by the
power of God ; both now conspire to establish his veracity and
wisdom, and witness to the truth of the story of Israel's visit
and God's revelation. Once has the Almighty spoken, twice
have we heard his voice, and no one can stand on this plain, and
.ook up to yon sublime mountain bight, and not be impressed
with the legible traces of God's Handwriting that has been left
on all about him.
And now we have been round the base of the mountain,
have looked into the valleys and ravines that encircle it; have
see the altitude and form of the majestic elevation, and the pe¬
culiar position of the plain upon which Israel encamped " be-
S12
EGYPT AND SINAI.
fore the mount." From this examination we shall now be bet¬
ter prepared to ascend the Mount of God—to go under the im¬
pression that we are climbing along the pathway where Moses
ascended to receive the law; visiting the localities where some
of the most remarkable phenomena that have attended the
revelation of God "to man have taken place. "While we have
been engaged on this, the evening hours have stolen away, our
candle has burned low into its socket, the camp-fire has gone
out, and Mohammed and the cook are enjoying a profound
slumber. Let us seek a night's rest. To-morrow, at 8 o'clock,
we are to meet our guides, and make the ascent of the moun¬
tain—a rare privilege, which comparatively few are permitted
to enjoy.
MOUNT SINAI.
CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN.
818
CHAPTER XIV.
Ascent op Sinai and Horeb—Sights by the "Way—^Reflec¬
tions upon the Summit—^Descent and View op the
Mountain prom the Plain.
March 4íA. This is the coolest morning we have seen in the
desert. The water left standing in our wash-pan froze over in
a short time. We are now so far elevated in these mountain¬
ous regions as to have quite a different climate from what we
had along the sea-shore. Our breakfast was soon over, and we
were anxious to commence the ascent of the mountain.
The guides for these excursions are usually furnished by the
convent. We had one monk and one of the menial Arabs, a
number of whom are employed about the convent, and whose
-iving seems to depend upon the small allowances received from
the Christian inmates. Either one of them would have been
sufficient, but the monks, in all their arrangements, wish to con¬
ciliate the Arabs, so they allow them to share in these atten¬
tions to visitors, and receive a small share of the compensation.
The charge for these guides is one dollar and fifty cents a day
for each.
About 8 o'clock we passed out of the gate of the rear wall
of the convent, and immediately commenced the ascent. Our
Arab servant carried upon his head a basket of supplies, for
our refreshment during the excursion. This was a kind gratui¬
ty upon their part, but quite a fortunate arrangement for us.
The contents consisted, as we afterwards found, of a bottle of
arrack, dried dates and figs, with coffee. The arrack we should
not have ordered, had we been consulted about the arrange
ment, but the monks seem to think it one of the necessaries of
life.
814
EGYPT AND SINAI.
Wq took a narrow path, leading diagonally up the mountair
side. It was quite steep and rocky, and in many places diflBl
cult of ascent. In less than half an hour we reached a cool,
refreshing spring, imbedded in rocks in a deep ravine, and
sending out a copious stream of clear, sweet water. Here we
stopp'ed a few minutes to rest an^ refresh ourselves. Our path
now became more difficult. It wound along the bed of this
narrow ravine, tall cliffs rising up on the right and left, while
we picked our way among huge granite bowlders, scattered
about in wild profusion. Along the more difficult and precip¬
itous passes, the monks have arranged the stones in artificial
stairways to facilitate the ascent. We soon reached a small,
rudely built, dilapidated chapel, dedicated to the Virgin Mary,
vulgarly known as
THE CHAPEL OF THE FLEAS.
The story of its erection is as follows : The monks in the
convent were once assailed by such swarms of fleas they were
compelled, for their own comfort, to leave the place. This they
did, resolving never to return. "With many regrets at leaving
their old home, they commenced a mournful march up the
mountain side. At this place they were met by the Vir^n
Mary—in what form she appeared I could not learn—^who com¬
miserated their condition, and gave them solemn assurance if
they would return she would expel their tormentors. They
did return, and the story^says the convent has since been free
from these troublesome intruders—and yet not entirely free, as
I can testify from experience. For this remarkable deliverance,
this chapel was built and dedicated to the Virgin. We went
in. It was a miserable, dirty place, and sadly out of repair.
The careless monks, I fear, had either forgotten the favor, oi
the remembrance of it no longer excited their gratitude. Upon
the arching of a little door leading into a kind of sacristy,
where stood an altar and font for holy water, I read the
name, "Hev. J. P. Hurbin, U. 8. America." I had not thought
of leaving my own name, but a sudden impulse moved me. I
reached up, wrote and left my name beneath that of my distin¬
guished fellow-countryman. These chapels upon the mountaîh
ASCENT OF SINAI.
815
ire in a sadly neglected condition ; in some of them the doors
are broken down, and goats herd within their walls.
OLD GATEWAYS AND OABDENS.
Continuing our ascent along a mountain ravine, we passed a
narrow gateway, arched with stone, and soon after, another,
similarly constructed. Here, it is said, in former days, a monk
was always stationed to confess the pilgrims that ascended to
the higher and holier parts of the mountain. This supersti¬
tious practice, however, was long since abandoned, and these
little gateways are fast crumbling to ruin. Passing on above
this, we came to a beautiful garden-spot upon the mountain.
This was a depression or basin in the mountain side—a sort of
amphitheatre, containing an acre or two of ground. The hills
rose up in gentle slopes all around it, while on one side still far
above us we lifted our eyes to the lofty peak of Sinai. In the
center of this was a small stone tower, and near it a beautiful
spring of water, handsomely walled round by the labor of the
monks; while above the spring a tall cypress lifted its thick
and sombre branches. Several little patches of ground here
and there were under cultivation by the monks, and a number
of fruit trees had recently been planted. Here, also, we saw
two quails, the only birds we saw in our ascent up the moun¬
tain. In contrast with the bleak, sterile rocks that sur¬
rounded it, and the wild mountain scenery that towered above
it, this was a bright and charming spot. I could not resist the
impression that this secluded dell must have been one of Moses'
favorite resorts for contemplation and communion with God.
After refreshing ourselves for a short season in this attractive
place, we again commenced our ascent. The next place of in¬
terest we reached was a low stone building, with a flat roof of
reeds and clay, containing
THE CHAPELS OP ELIJAH AND ELISHA.
The chapel of Elijah covers a small grotto in the rocks, and
is shown as the place in which the Prophet rested when be fled
into the desert from the persecuting malice of Ahab and Jeze •
bef, and came to the Mount of God. It was a natural cave
21
316
EGYPT AND SINAI.
among the granite rocks, about large enough for three persont
in a stooping or sitting posture. "We went into the little grotto,
sat down, and recalled the interesting episode in the^life of the
Prophet that gave so much interest to the place. I saw him
first, as, weary and oppressed in his flight, he slept under a ju¬
niper tree. Aroused by the angel of God, he refreshed himself
with the cake of bread and the cruise of oil that had been so
miraculously prepared for him, and went on the strength of
that meat forty days and forty nights unto Horeb, the Mount of
God. " And he came thither unto a cave and lodged there.''
1st Kings xix. 9.
Afterward came the inquiring voice of the Lord God,
"What doest thou here, Elijah?" "And he said, I have been
very jealous for the Lord God of hosts; for the children of Is¬
rael have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars,
and slain thy prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am
left, and they seek my life to take it aw^y." Then came that
wonderful exhibition of the Divine power and glory. A ter-
riffic wind swept over these mountain peaks, and went howling
through these mountain gorges. The terrors of an'earthquake
shook the mountain, and it trembled, as when of old the Lord
set his feet upon it in the presence of Israel. Then a kindling
fire, as if with the fierceness of the judgment day, seemed to
wrap all in a consuming flame. But these terrific manifesta¬
tions passed away. They were but the precursors of the Di¬
vine presence—a calm and solemn stillness succeeded, and in a
still, small voice, God communicated his will to the trembling
and adoring Prophet. "And it was so when Elijah heard it
he wrapt his face in his mantle, and went out and stood at the
entering in of the cave," and received instruction from the Al¬
mighty. Was this the place? I could not say it was, yet it
was probably in this very mount, and I seemed to be near the
scene of those solemn and interesting events. "What sublime
and wonderful exhibitions of God have been made amid these
mountain rocks and dells !
Leaving, this traditional spot of Elijah's interview with God,
we passed on towards the top of the mountain. How often we
paused to wonder if it was really along these narrow pathwàys
ASCENT OF SINAI.
317
that Moses climbed in his intimate interviews with God ! Our
path was now growing steeper and more difficult. It was only
by the aid of a rude stone stairway, constructed by the monks,
that wo were able to ascend at all.
a camel's poot-peint.
As we moved along this rugged pathway, the guide called
our attention to a singular impression upon a level place in the
bed of rocks, said to be a foot-print of Mohammed's camel,
left there when he ascended to the top of the mount. Various
stories are told of this somewhat, singular impression. Its
shape is prescisely such as would be left by a camel's foot pressed
upon some soft substance. Some affirm it to be an accidental
indentation of the rock; while some of the Arabs stoutly
assert that it was actually made by the foot of the beast on
which the Prophet rode, though it does not appear likely any
camel could ever have made his way along this rough, precip¬
itous ascent. Some say it was made by some mischievous
monk of the monastery, to produce some superstitious effect
upon the Moslem Arabs. Certain it is, many of these Arábs
seem fully to believe it was actually made by the beast of the
Prophet. The toilsome ascent was at last completed, and about
two hours and a half after leaving the convmt, we stood
on the summit op sinal!
According to Stanley's measurement, we had ascended, from
the level of the sea to reach the convent of St. Catharine, 5,452
feet, to reach the top of the mount, 2,112 feet more, making
the summit of Sinai 7,564 feet above the sea. The mountain
is an elevation of bare granite peaks, red granite at the base,
and gray granite as you near the top. Very little vegetation
grows upon it; for the last thousand feet, scarce any thing is
seen, and but very little soil. A few hardy herbs take root in
the crevices of the rocks and among the bowlders, but no tree
or bush is seen near the top. In several places, sheltered from
the sun, quite large bodies of snow were yet to be seen, slowly
melting away under the influence of the increasing heat of
surnmer.
31»
EGYPT AJSD SINAI.
The top of the mount is a pointed peak, and cannot be mie
taken. There is a diameter of thirty or forty paces upon
which you can walk about, though quite rocky and uneven.
A few paces below the summit is a cleft in the rock, about
large enough to admit the body of a man. This, acöording to
the monks, is the place in which Moses was hid when the Lord
passed by and proclaimed his glory. On the top is a Moslem
mosque and a Christian chapel. The mosque has fallen into
decay, and is no longer, used. The chapel is still taken care of
by the monks, and is ornamented vsdth candlesticks, lamps and
pictures. One of the first things our attendant did, was to
open the chapel, having brought the key with him, light the
lamps, burn incense, and perform his devotions at the altar.
But all these things were nothing to me. The mountain itself
was a great consecrated altar ; the sun in the heavens the illum¬
inating lamp ; the aspirations of an adoring heart the incense.
Here we stand upon the Mount op God ! Here is the end of
our journey. For this we have made our long and weary pil¬
grimage across the desert. This mount has been the chosea
theatre for one of the most glorious and astounding revelations
of God to man the world has ever witnessed. On this mount
God once came down in awful grandeur and majesty; and on
this sublime elevation his glory was displayed. I withdrew
from my companions behind the cover of a rock, and gave
myself up to the emotions the place was calculated to inspire.
I read aloud from my Bible a description of the august and im¬
posing scene, when the mount was made to tremble beneath the
majesty and glory of the presence of Deity. I read the com¬
mandments that were rehearsed in the hearing of the people.
I fell on miy knees, and lifted up my heart and voice in prayer
to Almighty God ; and here I fulfilled the pledge I made to my
church and people, that I would pray for them from the top of
Sinai. It was to me an hour of devout and solemn communiod
with the God of Abraham and of Isaac, of Jacob and of Moses
descent from the mount.
"We spent from an hour and a half to two hours upon the
top of the mount. During this time our Arab servant succeed-
ASCENT OP HOEEB.
319
ed in gathenng sufficient dry herbage to kindle a little fire, and
boil some fresh cofiee, from which, with the dates and brown
hread he had brought with him, he served us a very accept¬
able and refreshing lunch. Our repast over, we took our last
earnest look from the top of the mount, bade a reluctant fare¬
well to the place, and commenced our descent, not to return to
our tents, but to ascend the Horeb peak. This part of the
mount, many think, and with good reason too, is the place
from which the law was actually proclaimed. This is called by
the Arabs Jebel Safsafeh, the Mountain of the "Willow, so called
from one or two willow trees that grow upon it.
We descended by the same path that had led us to the top,
until we came to the place we have before described, where are
found the cypress tree, the fountain of water, and the chapel of
Elijah. From this we passed in a northerly direction, along
the western brow of a ridge lying between the two peaks.
The path was a very rough and fatiguing one ; sometimes we
were descending into valleys, sometimes climbing over rough
and naked ridges. In this way we passed on, I should think,
near two miles, keeping about the same average elevation upon
the mountain. In one place we passed an old stone chapel,
erected in honor of John the Baptist, and then another dedi¬
cated to the ' Virgin of the Zone." These chapels, I suppose,
were used in former days, when these mountain caverns were
occupied by the religious devotees who had here secluded them¬
selves from the world. They have now ceased to be used, and
are rapidly falling into ruins.
From this last chapel the summit of Safsafeh, or Horeb> is
seen towering upward in bold, naked, precipitous peaks. Neai
this we came upon the ruins of an old willow tree. The main
trunk of the tree had perished, either from the decay of ago
or from the destructive hands of the Arabs. From the decay¬
ing stalks we took the liberty of cutting each of us a cane, the
only opportunity we found of securing such a trophy upon the
whole mount, aside from the cultivated shrubs of the convent
garden. The almost utter barrenness of this mountain scen¬
ery is one of its striking peculiarities. The cheerless sterility of
naked rocks surround you on every side. Shrubs and trees.
320
EGYPT AND SINAI.
and grass and flowers, are not found here, to ^ve vaiiety and
beauty to the landscape.
THE ASCENT OV HOBEB.
We saw we had some hard climbing to do to reach the sum¬
mit of those precipitous cliffs. It is impossible for one to con¬
ceive, without an actual visit to the place, the wild and rugged
aspect of this pile of granite peaks. They are smooth, solid
masses of stone, some of the points so sharp it is impossible to
ascend them ; while here and there are precipitous cliflfe, and
immense yawning chasms, with huge bowlders scattered about
in strange and wild confusion.
Our monk, wearied with his long walk, concluded to remain
at the base of these cliffs, and sent the Arab servant on with
us. Our design was to get upon one of the highest peaks over¬
looking the plain of Eahah. The guide proceeded with us for
some distance, conducted us to a shelving point of rock that
overlooked a deep chasm below, and thè^n endeavored to make
us understand that this was as far as travelers ever went. We
were not satisfied, and insisted on being taken on to a higher
point. He shook his head forbiddingly, but we determined to
proceed. We retraced our steps part way to where we liad
left the monk, and shouted to him for assistance. He replied
oy telling us that travelers did not go to the top of the mount.
This we did not believe, for we knew others had ascended ; and
to the top we had determined to go, if we had to go without
monk or Arab. We took another course, and again com¬
menced the ascent. By this time we were satisfied our guide
knew no more about the way than we did, so we left him to
take care of himself, and took the matter into our own hands.
We climbed on up the steep, rocky ascent, sometimes on all
fours, holding on with both hands, and climbing along the edge
of precipices of frightful hight, till we could get no further;
still we were at least a hundred feet below the summit. Again
we retraced our steps, took a circuit around to another portion
of the mount, and again climbed our way upward. The grit
of the rocks was so sharp as to cut our hands and tear our
clothes, and we sometimes had to climb on hands and knees.
ON THE SUMMIT OF HOEEB.
321
But our efforts at last proved successful. "We gained not the
highest point, for we saw two higher peaks back of us, but we
gained a point that overlooked the plain below.
It was by perseverance, and hard, laborious toil, we reached
the place; but we were richly rewarded for all our efforts.
Robinson, Durbin, Stanley and others, had climbed to these
summits before me, and had all been impressed with the ap¬
propriateness of the place for that grand display of majesty
and glory, when God came down upon the mount in the pres¬
ence of the people. There was the great plain of Rahah, lying
just at our feet—a beautiful camping place for the many
thousands of Israel. Stretching away beyond it, was the long,
low range of hills—Sena and Fureia—upon which thousands
more might have been gathered in full view of the mount.
Opening away down to the right was the Wady es Sheik,
along which valley three or four miles the encampment might
have spread, and yet all have been in view of these tall peaks,
covered with the majesty and glory of God.
And there, I said, as I looked down upon the plain, was the
place of the encampment! There Moses went down to sanctify
and prepare the people. Along the edge of that plain, from
which the mountain rises so abruptly, he set boundaries about
the mountain, and there the people drew back with astonish¬
ment and affright at the awful exhibitions of the glory of God.
What strange emotions I felt as I looked down upon that plain !
What a multitude of reflections came crowding upon my mind !
[ recalled the time when that broad plain and these hill-sides
md surrounding valleys were dotted over with the tents, and
swarming with the gathered hosts of Israel's tribes. These
mountain fastnesses were to them a refuge and a sanctury.
llere they learned how to worship God. On that plain, that
lay just at my feet, the busy multitude labored to prepare the
Tabernacle of God. There they collected the gold and the
silver, the fine linen, the blue, the purple and scarlet. There
they cast the silver blocks of the foundation, and hewed the
boards, and overlaid them with gold. There Bezaleel had his
forge and shop; and there cunning workmen, with a skill
kindled by a strange inspiration, prepared the golden candle
322
EGYPT AND SINAI.
stick, the table of shew bread, the altar of incense, and, moie
than all, the wonderful ark, with the mercy seat and golden
cherubims, upon the wings of which rested the Shekinah, the
abiding token of God's glory in the midst of the camp.
There, encircled by that amphitheatre of hills, was God'e
sanctuary; there was his congregation ; and more than all,
where I now stand was his majestic pulpit, with its awful
canopy of clouds and fire. Was ever before or since such an
audience ! such a pulpit ! such a preacher ! such a sermon ! So
terrible was the scene that Moses said : " I exceedingly fear and
quake." And all the peoplé drew back awe-stricken, and,
retiring into yonder mountain recesses, said unto Moses : " Speak
thou with us and we will hear; but let not God speak with us,
lest we die."
It was an impressive region of solitude and silence; of
mountain ruggedness and sublimity ; of solemn and soul stir¬
ring remembrances! I stood overawed and adoring, amid the
majestic grandeur and awful sublimity of the scene. I felt
like IJlijah, when, on this same mount, he went forth and stood
at the entering in of the cave. The tepapest, the earthquake,
and the fire had all passed, and in the midst of the solemn
silence that gathered about the mountain peaks, I heard only
the " still small voice," and, like him, I covered my face in rever¬
ence and communed with God.
THE DESCENT TO OUK TENTS.
Our stay upon the mount must not be protracted. Would it
not be pleasant, like Moses, to linger here forty days in com¬
munion with God? Let us go, having that holy law that was
here uttered, amid such majesty and glory, more deeply than
,ever impressed upon our hearts. Slowly and reverently we
turned away. We shall never visit the hallowed spot again;
but the impressions that have now been made upon our heart»
will not soon be efiaced.
We had been standing almost directly above our tents, and
we made a rapid and direct descent towards our encampment.
We passed down through a ravine, so precipitous that a pas¬
sage would have been impracticable had it not been for the
LEGENDABY LOCALITIES. 32B
fOuglinesB of the rocks. Upon these we were enabled to hold,
and thus resist the force of gravity that would otherwise have
sent us headlong to the plain below.
The sun had sunk far below the hoary peaks of Sinai, Horeb
and St. Catharine, when, weary and hungry, we reached our
tents. The cook had anticipated our wants, and the smoking
viands were soon spread for our refreshment. We ate with-a
relish that abstinence and hard labor only can beget, and were ,
soon enjoying the rest our weary limbs so much needed.
^ March 6th. Another night was passed in safety. We found
ourselves so lame and stiff from our long mountain excursion
yesterday, we had but little inclination to repeat the excessive
labor. Mr. Baker took the guides and started for an excursion
to the tall summit of St. Catharine, while Mr. Lempriere and
myself concluded to remain nearer home, and spend the day
about the base of Sinai. Desolate as the country is, one does
not soon tire of wandering among its wild and rugged scenery.
Besides, there are many localities here that stand, in name at
least, identified with the scripture narrative. Here, close by
our tent, is the Hill of Aaron ; yonder, a round-topped elevation
of a peculiar green color, pointed out as the site of Jethro's
house.
THE MOLD or AABON'S CALF.
One of the monks accompanied us, and took us first to the
mold in the rock where a superstitious fancy has fixed the place
of the casting of the golden calf. Its location may be seen by
reference to Ho. 6 on the diagrath on page 304. It is a small,
hollow place in the rocks near the base of the mountains, about
the size and somewhat the shape of an ox's head, 'it requires,
however, a great stretch of imagination to transform it into a
suitable mold for such a purpose as Aaron would have required.
That it is something in the shape of a calf's head, cannot be de¬
nied; but that it could ever have been used for the purpose ot
giving shape to Aaron's idol, is utterly impossible. Its size,
would have been an objection ; and such is its shape that a
liquid mass once poured into it and hardened, could never have
been withdrawn. It seems to be simply a hollow place—a
324
EGYPT AND SINAI.
softer portion of the rock, worn out by the action of water; and
I do not suppose that even the most ignorant and superstitioui
monlç really believes Aaron's calf ever had any connection
with it.
THE SMITTEN BOOK.
We" next passed round into the valley, Leja, a deep ravine
along the western base of Sinai. It is a wild, rocky gorge, ter¬
minating in a huge fissure in the mountain side, called Shouk
Mousa, " Cleft of Moses." Some distance up this ravine, about
half an hour's walk, marked by Ho. 7 on the diagram, we were
shown the Smitten Bock.
Difierent visitors seem to have been diflerently impressed in
their visits to this singular rock. Dr. Durbin makes the fol¬
lowing note of his visit to it :
"Prom the accounts of previous travelers, and my settled conviction that the
legend in regard to the rock was but a fable, I had made up my mind that there
could be no interest excited about it. May I tell the reader, that notwithstanding
my good stock of skepticism, this stone made more impression upon mo than any
natural object claiming to attest a miracle ever did? Had any enlightened geolo¬
gist, utterly ignorant of the miracle of Moses, passed up the ravine and seen the
rock as it now is, he could have declared—though the position of the stone and
the present condition of the country around would have opposed any such im¬
pression—^that strong and long continued fountains of water had once poured theii
gurgling currents from it and over it. He could not waver in his belief a moment,
so natural and perfect were the indications. I examined it thoroughly, and if it bt
a forgery, I am satisfied, for my own part, that a greater than Michael Angelo de-,
signed and executed it. I cannot differ from Shaw's opinion, that ' neither art
nor chance could by any means be concerned in the contrivance of these holes,
which formed so many fountains.' The more I gazed upon the irregular, mouth-
hke caverns in the rock, the more I found my skepticism shaken ; and at last 1
could not he^ asking myself whether it was not a very natural solution of the
matter, that this was indeed the rock which Moses struck, that from it the waters
'gushed forth,' and poured their stream down Wady Leja to Wady es Sheik, and
along it to Rephidim, where Israel was encamped, perishing with thirst?"
Dr. Eobinson says :
"As to this rock, one is at a loss whether most to admire the credulity of th<
monks or the legendary and discrepant reports of travelers. It is hardly necessa¬
ry to remark that there is not the slightest ground for assuming any connection
between this narrow valley and Rephidim; but, on the contrary, there is every
thing against it. The rock itself is a large, isolated cube of coarse, red granite,
which has fallen from the eastern mountain. Down its front, in ajit oblique line
THE SMITTBN KOCK
325
rrom top to bottom, runs a seam of a finer i.exture, from twelve to fifteen inches
broad, having in it several irregular horizontal crevices, somewhat resembling the
human mouth, one above another. These are said to be twelve in number, but I
could make out only ten. The seam extends quite through the rock, and is visible
on the opposite or back side ; where also are similar crevices, though not so large
The holes did not appear to us to be artificial, as is usually reported, although w«
examined them particularly. They belong rather to the nature of the seam ; yet
it is possible some of them may have been enlarged by artificial means. The rock
is a singular one, and, doubtless, was selected on account of this singularity as
the scene of the miracle."
Of this same rock Stanley speaks as the most famous of all
the relics here found :
"Slightly leaning forwards, a rude seam or scoop running over each side, inter¬
sected by wide slits or cracks, which might, by omitting or including those of less
distinctness, be enlarged or diminished to any number between ten and twen^ ;
perhaps ten on each side would be the most correct account ; and the stone be¬
tween each of those cracks worn away as if by the dropping of water from the
orack immediately above. Unlike as this isolated fragment is to the image usual¬
ly formed "of the rock in Horeb," and incompatible as its situation is with any
tenable theory of the event with which it professes to be connected, yet to uncul¬
tivated minds, regardless of general truth, and eager for minute coincidence, it
was most natural that this rock should have suggested the miracle of Moses.
There is every reason, accordingly, to believe that this is the oldest legendary local¬
ity in the district. It is probable that it was known even in the time of Josephus,
who speaks of the rock as "lying beside them "—an expression naturally appli¬
cable to a fragment like this, but hardly to a cliff in the mountain. The situation
and form of this stone would also have accommodated itself to the strange rab¬
binical belief that the "rock followed" them through the wilderness; a belief,
groundless enough under any circumstances, but more natural if any Jewish pil¬
grims had seen or heard of this detached mass by the mountain side. It next ap¬
pears, or rather, perhaps, we would say, its first unquestionable appearance, is in
the reference made more than once in the Koran to the rock with the twelve
mouths for the twelve tribes of Israel, evidently alluding to the curious cracks in
the stone, as now seen. These allusions probably increased, if they did not orig¬
inate, the reverence of the Bedawins, who, at least down to the present generation
of travelers, are described as muttering their prayers before it, and thrusting grass
into the supposed mouths of the stone. From the middle ages onwards, it has al¬
ways been shown to Christian pilgrims ; and the rude crosses on the sides, as well
as the traces of stone chipped away, indicate the long reverence in which it has
been held. In more modem times, it has been used to serve the two opposit«
purposes, of demonstrating on the one hand the trath of the Mosaic history, and
on the other hand the lying practices of the monastic system. Bishop Clayton trb
nmphantly quotes it as a voice from the desert, providentially preserved to put the
Infidels of the eighteenth centuryHo shame. Sir Gardner Wilkinson as positively
brings it forward to prove the deceptions practiced by the Greek Church to securo
326
EGYPT AJÍD SINAI.
the respect of Arabs and the visits of pilgrims. It is one of the manj instances
in which both argnments are equally wrong. It is evidently, like the other exam¬
ples given above, a trick of natnre, which has originated a legend, and, throngh
the legend, a sacred locality. Probably less wonld have been said of it, had more
travelers observed what Sir Frederick Henniker alone has expressly noticed, name
ly, the fragment which lies in the same valley, less conspicnons, but with precise
ly similar marks. But, taking it merely for what it is, of all the lesser objects of
interest in Sinai, the Rock of Moses is the most remarkable ; clothed with the
longest train of associations, allied in thought, though not in fact, to the image
which, of all others in the Exodns, has, perhaps, been most frequently repeated in
the devotion of Jewish and Christian worship ; of all the objects in the desert
most bound up with the simple faith of its wild inhabitants and of its early vis
Hants."
Dr. Shaw, who was here nearly one hundred and fifty years
ago, speaks very seriously of this rock, and seems to take it for
granted, that as "neither art nor chance" could have produced
the water-worn channels by which it is marked, they must have
been produced by a miraculous flow of water from its indenta¬
tions. Such contradictory opinions having been expressed
with regard to this rock, my curiosity was highly excited, and
I made a very critical examination of it. The water-worn seam
that distinguishes it is certainly a very singular one, and yet
nothing but what might have been very naturally produced,
had it ever lain in a position where a current of running water
could have poured over it. That it is the result of the action
of water, I think there can be no doubt. I have no idea any
one has attempted to impose on the credulity of travelers, by
originating oy enlarging any of its crevices. It is a huge gran¬
ite bowlder, that at some distant period has fallen down fi-om
the overhanging cliffs. The lower part of it lies imbedded in
the sand, gravel and stones that have accumulated about it. 1
applied my tape-line to it, and found the part above the ground
to be about fifteen feet high, twenty feet long, and about ten
feet thick. The front of it presented a fiat surface, somewhat
irregular, the top protruding over in the form of a heavy, ir¬
regular cornice. As you stand facing it, near the right hand
side, and running up and down a little obliquely, is a seam in
the rock evidently worn by the action of running water. This
seam has also a number of transverse seams lying across it at
right angles, and more deeply indented in the rock in the form
THB SMITTEN EOCK.
327
)f mouths, or rather the lips of a closed mouth. There are
iome of them from one to two inches deep. It is these mouths
that Shaw and others speak of as the holes in the rock from
which the water probably gushed out. But they evidently
never served any such purpose. They are simply the result of
the action of the elements that produced the upright seam op¬
erating upon a softer portion of the rook, wearing a deeper
channel.
Passing round to the backside of the rock, by the aid of some
other bowlders lying near, I was able to climb upon the top of
the rock. I found the same seam marking the top, and run¬
ning clear down the back side, but not so marked and deeply
worn as on the front. The seam is from six to ten or twelve
inches broad, of a whiter color than the other portions of the
rock, and most of the way worn very slightly into it. That
this portion of the rock has been subjected to the action of run¬
ning water cannot be denied. But when and where ? Certain¬
ly not where it now lies, but probably before it was torn from
its mountain bed. I think this seam to be a softer portion of
the rock, that yielded more readily to the action of the elements.
In confirmation of this, I found some portions of the top of the
rock quite soft and crumbling, easily displaced, so that I broke
ofi^, without much difiiculty, portions of it as large as the end
of my finger.
Was this the rock smitten by Moses? To this we might re¬
ply, in part, by asking another question : Was any rock smitten
by Moses in this place? We think not, for the following
reasons :
1. There seems to have been no necessity for the production
of water by miracle in this vicinity; for, as we have before
stated, the best and most copious fountains of the whole penin¬
sula are found about this mountain ; and at the very time we
visited this rock, a stream of fresh water was gurgling along
down the valley by it.
2. The rock smitten by Moses was in Eephidim, and befoie
they came to Sinai. "Where Eephidim was we may not now be
able to tell, but the narrative plainly informs us that they
328
EGYPT AND SINAI.
moved from that place, and continued their journey before
they encamped in front of the mount.
3. If a rock had been opened for water to supply the en¬
campment, would it have been in such an out-of-the-way place
as this, in a deep, narrow, rocky gorge, very diflGlcult of access,
and a mile or two from the nearest part of the camp ?
4. When God works miracles, we always find it has been the
order of his Providence to make no unnecessary display of Om¬
nipotent power, but to work by the simplest means ; generally
producing the result by the operation of known and natural
agencies. Had a rock been opened for the production of a fiow
of water, would it have been likely to have been an isolated
one, where a perpetual miracle would be necessary—a contin¬
ued act of Creative Power to maintain a fiowing fountain?
Would it not be much more likely to have been the opening
of some cleft in the mountain side, from which a copious stream
might have been made to issue, poured forth from the inex¬
haustible fountain the Almighty has treasured in the bowels of
the earth?
5. There is nothing in the marks upon this rock necessarily
leading us to the conclusion that they must have been produced
by a miraculous flow of water. Indeed, the peculiar character
of the seam proves the contrary. Its running across the top
of the rock and down both sides, is conclusive it was worn by
the action of water running over it, and not bursting out from
it. It is not uncommon in rocky mountain regions to find frag¬
ments of rocks thus marked by seams and eddies that have
been produced by the natural action of the elements. And if,
as Stanley says, another rock has been seen in this same valley
with similar seams, it may fairly be concluded that the two
have been produced by the same natural causes.
6. If it was necessary to work a miracle in this vicinity to
bring water out of the flinty rock, why may we not conclude
it was in some place easy of access, on the side of the moun¬
tain next to the great encampment—^the place, for instance,
just a few rods above where wp pitched our own tents, where
a copious fountain of pure, sweet water comes gushing from a
cleft in the rocky base of the mountain in a stream sufficient to
THE SMITTEN EOCK.
329
supply a city of many thousands. As I stood by the side of
that noble fountain, and looked upon the strange cleft where
some superhuman power had rent the solid rock asunder to
give the water egress, I found myself almost involuntarily ask¬
ing: "Did not that wonder-working rod of Moses have some¬
thing to do with this?" Why has not tradition located th ¡
scene of that stupendous miracle right here, where that strange
and violent opening in these solid rocks, and the voiße of those
gushing waters speak of the power of Omnipotence? Why
not locate it here, rather than upon that dry, isolated rock in
the distant valley of the Leja?
But perhaps I am devoting too much time to this " rock in
Horeb." I have done it because I know many feel a deep inte¬
rest in the question, and are anxious to have aU the information
possible upon the subject. However much other travelers may
have been impressed with the superstitious legend that has
identified this with the rock smitten by Moses, I cannot for a
moment entertain the idea. That ^ a wonderful miracle was
wrought in bringing water from the flinty rock, I have no doubt;
but I cannot for a moment entertain the idea that this was the
rock upon which God stood, and which Moses smote. The
locality of that rock is lost and may never be known again ; it
Is not essential it should be, for it has fulfilled its mission. But
it had a high and holy significance as the type of Him who was
to come after, from whom should flow the living streams that
should bless the world ! " They drank of that spiritual rock
that followed them, and that Eock was CHRIST." How,
though we may never find the rock of the wilderness, the true
rock stands revealed in the presence of the whole world, and
we hear bim saying : " If any man thirst, let him come unto me
4nd drink."
Our last day at Sinai is drawing to a close. We must return
to our tent, and make ready for our departure early to-morrow
morcLiig. But as we have a little more time for contemplation,
let us improve it by spending an evening hour in a walk over
this great plain of Rahah. There are many interesting themes-
of contemplation suggested as one walks about these valleys,
and looks upward to the mountain peaks ; a hundred questions
330
EGYPT AND SINAI
connected with the wonderful erents that have here transpired«
occur to the inquiring mind.
AN OBJECTION ANSWERED.
It has been asserted by some objectors to the Divine record,
that the sublime exhibitions upon the mount might have been
a deception upon the part of Moses, by taking advantage of
some natural agencies known only to himself—perhaps the oc¬
currence, just at that particular time, of some volcanic eruption
and earthquake's shock. I hear from some the inquiry : "Did
you see any evidence, in your visit upon the mount, of the
action of such agencies."
The question can be answered promptly and explicitly.
Taking the whole character of Moses into the account, we
have every reason to conclude he was not a man to practice de¬
ceptions in these sacred revelations, had there been an oppor¬
tunity to do so ; but there is no evidence that he could have
called such ageucies to his aid had he desired it. Had there
ever been a volcano here, the traces of it would still be visible ;
among these barren hills, where there is no accumulation of
vegetation, the traces of it would not be obliterated till the
end of time. There are here no extinct craters, no appear¬
ance of volcanic action, or of any eruption or violent commo¬
tion of nature Since the first great upheaval of the granite
ranges, which must, as eveiy geologist will tell yon, have taken
place many thousands of years before Moses set foot upon the
mountain's side, or Israel congregated at its base. " There are,"
says Stanley, "at first sight, many appearances which, to our
unpracticed eye, seem indications of volcanic agency. But
they are all, it is believed, illusory. The vast heaps as of cal¬
cined mountains are only the detritus of iron in the sandstone
formation. The traces of igneous action on the granite rocks
belong to their first upheaving, not to any subsequent convul¬
sions. Every where there are signs of the action of water,
no where of fire."
"Walk with me now along this broad plain. "We had a view
of it as we stood upon that lofty peak, and contemplated the
hosts of Israel upon the plain below, adoring and trembliog at
VOLCANIC AGENCY.
331
the awful display of Divine majesty and power. Let us now
look upward, and contemplate^for a moment the cloud-covered
mount, as God descended upon it. Six days the cloud covered
those majestic peaks, and the glory of the Lord abode upon
tuem, " and the sight of the glory of God was like a devouring
fire upon the top of the mount." Of all the scenes man has
ever been permitted to witness, none has equaled this in awful-
ness and sublimity ; no other one has ever been attended by
such amazing phenomena.
And now, standing here, with the remembrance of all these
strange exhibitions and revelations full in mind, it seems ap¬
propriate once more to call to mind that great leader and law¬
giver in Israel,
THK MAN MOSES.
Contemplate him as a general, reducing to order the undisci¬
plined mass of human beings with whom he had to deal, and
marshaling his great army of six hundred thousand men ; or
as a legislator, dictating and establishing a new code of laws ;
or as a religious teacher, instituting a new order of worship ;
and we are compelled to acknowledge he was certainly a most
wonderful man. "We have seen him in Egypt, condemned to
death from his very birth ; have stood by the waters of the ]N"ile,
that went rippling by the frail ark of rushes in which his life
was exposed ; have seen him nursed and educated under the
shadow of the throne of the Pharaohs; have looked upon him
as he appeared at the renowned and powerful court of Memphis,
overawing by the dignity and majesty of his presence the
proudest and most renowned of earthly monarchs, dictating
terms of deliverance for his oppressed people.
N'ow in these secluded mountain retirements we meet him
again. Standing on yonder commanding bights, amid clouds,
darkness and tempest, in the awful presence of Divine majesty '
and glory, he holds audience with the King of kings. Con¬
template him as you will, the triple crown of warrior, legisla¬
tor and prophet is justly his; and though near four thousand
years have passed away, the lapse of time has not diminished
aught of the radiance that enshrouds him.
22
332
EGYPT AND SINAI.
We have stood by the side of the mighty pyramids his co-
temporaries were engaged in rearing; they are gigantic piles,
yet only monuments of human frailty, and tombs of human
hopes. The superstructure he has reared is a far more endur
mg one. Its base is the immutable law of Jehovah, its sum¬
mit is lost in the glories of heaven. The founders of the pyra¬
mids built to immortalize their names, and make for themselves
a tomb ; Moses built to honor G-od and elevate man. He asked
for no monumental tomb, and God buried him in the obscurity
of the mountain recesses of Hebo, and his sepulchre no man
has ever known ; but his works are an everlasting monument,
from which his name will never perish.
But we must away to our tents. Another night's rest, and
we shall bid a final adieu to these sacred localities. Sheik Me-
daka is here with his camels, despite his protestations he would
leave us to perish in the wilderness. He and the dragoman
have been carrying on a fearful war of words, and the quarrel
of the old tin pan has all been fought over. They seem to
have come to no settlement to-night, and the sheik and his men
have withdrawn in sullen mood and built their fire a little dis¬
tance from our camp. The contest will be renewed in the
morning, but I have no doubt but he and his camels are to per¬
form the service. This terrible war of words seems to be an
inseparable prelude to all their bargains.
ROUTE BY AKABA AND PETRA.
It was with reluctance we made preparations to retrace oui
steps to Suez and Cairo. We had not seen all we wished to
see of Israel's route to the Holy Land. It had been our inten¬
tion from the first, if possible, to continue our journey through
the desert to Akaba, and thence by Mount Hor and Petra ta
Palestine; but this we found impracticable. The Arab tribe»
about Petra, always quarrelsome and inhospitable, and a greal
annoyance to travelers, have of late years become so engaged
in hostile feuds among themselves, and so unfriendly and inso¬
lent to foreigners, it is dangerous for travelers to attempt to
pass through their territory. While we were at Cairo, an En¬
glish gentleman of wealth, with a large retinue of camels and
DESERT ROUTE TO HEBRON.
333
servants, endeavored to negotiate some arrangement before¬
hand for passing through their territory, hut could not succeed,
and vs^as compelled to abandon the enterprise. There is a
shorter and more direct route by which the tourist can reach
Hebron from Sinai, by striking directly across the desert, leav¬
ing Petra to the east; but it is a long, tedious, desert route, and
extremely difficult to get supplies, while there is nothing to be
seen in its whole course of special interest, and the time occupied
is about thirteen to fourteen days ; so that it is much preferable
to return to Cairo, and reach the Holy Land by the way of the
Mediterranean Sea and Jaffa.
"When the route by Akaba and Petra can be taken, you can
leave* the convent under the escort of the Tawara; two days'
travel of nine hours each will bring you to Hazeroth, supposed
to be the third station of the Israelites after leaving Sinai ; one
day more to the shore of the Gulf of Akaba, the ancient Elatb,
where, near three thousand j^ears ago, the fleets of Solomon
sailed, bearing the gold of Ophir and the spices of India to the
little kingdom of Israel. From this about two and a half days
brings the traveler to the Castle of Akaba. Beyond this point
the Tawara Arabs are not allowed to go, and the traveler is
handed over to the Alawin, " an impudent and lawless set of
vagabonds as ever a pilgrim had to deal with." A few years
ago travelers had to bargain with old Sheik Hussein, long
noted for his exorbitant extortions, and the little disposition he
manifested to accommodate travelers after he had pocketed the
backsheesh*. His son, Mohammed, is more favorably spoken
of by those who-have had occasion to deal with him. The dis¬
tance from Akaba to- Petra is about three days' ride of nine
hours each ; from Petra to Hebron, from flve to six days, accord¬
ing to the route taken. The sums paid by different travelers
at different times to Sheik Hussein are stated as follows : Kin-
near and Roberts, for a party of three persons from Akaba to
Hebron, for camels, escort, etc., two hundred and eighty pias¬
ters, and for each Arab forming the escort, two hundred and
sixty piasters. Miss Martineau and party, each person to pay
one thousand piasters for escort, and two hundred and fifty pi¬
asters over and above for every camel required. Mr. Bartlett,
334
EGYPT AND SINAI.
from Akaba to Petra, and thence back to Cairo, three thousand
piasters, including every thing. The price, of course, varies
materially, according to the acommodations furnished. In the
above list of prices, I suppose it is understood the parties fur¬
nished their own servants, provisions, cook, tents, etc., except
in the case of Mr. Bartlett. Dr. Kobinson paid one hundred and
thirty-five piasters for each camel from Akaba to Hebron. It
was with Sheik Hussein Dr. Durbin and his party had to deal.
The terms demanded were, for conveying the party of five from
Akaba to Hebron, one hundred and sixty-eight dollars for the
use of fourteen camels, and one hundred dollars for protection
money for each person. The price of the camels was not objected
to, but the payment of five hundred dollars tribute money was
stoutly resisted, ending in a compromise, fixing it at two hun¬
dred and fifty dollars. In 1857, travelers began to encounter
more than usual difficulties in attempting to pass through this
portion of the country. The Alawin were engaged in war
with another tribe, while the Pellaheen inhabiting the defiles
of "Wady Mousa—^Valley of Moses—along tha entrance to
Petra, manifested an insolence and rapacity far beyond aU
former experience. Since then the difficulties have increased,
until now the way is entirely obstructed.
It would be interesting to follow the pathway of the mysteri¬
ous cloud, and journey over the track of the Israelites along
their desert route, and see those portions of thé country where,
for near forty years, they wandered from place to place, till,
punished for thei" idolatry and unbelief, God strangely led
them into the Promised Land. The knowledge of the particu¬
lar localities where the prominent events in their history oc¬
curred has been lost; but it was on this route that the rebellion
of Korah, Dathan and Abiram occurred, who, with their asso¬
ciates, met so signal and fearful a doom ; on this route the bra¬
zen serpent, the type of Christ, was set up, the 'emedy for the
deadly bite of the fiery serpents their murmurings and idola¬
tries had drawn jipon them; on this route, too, it was that
Aaron, the first consecrated high-priest, found his grave.
Among the places in this desert land I had a desire to visit
was one, access to which has ever been difficult; the place
MOUNT HÖR—TOMB OF AARON.
DEATH OF AAEON.
337
wLich Burckhardt found it so difficult to reach, and from which
Robinson and his company, by the lawless sons of Ishmael,
were rudely turned away without being allowed to explore. I
had to content myself, as the reader must, by looking upon the
picture of it, and reading the description given by another.
This place was
MOUNT HOR AND AARON'S TOMB.
It is another of the places revered alike by Jew, Christian
and Moslem. Stanley says :
"It is one of the very few spots connected with the wanderings of the Israel¬
ites which admits of no^reasonable douht. There Aaron died in the presence of
Moses and Eleazer ; there he was buried ; and there" Eleazer was invested with the
priesthood in his stead. The mountain is marked far and near by, its double top,
which rises like a huge castellated building from a lower base, and on one of these
is the Mohammedan chapel, erected out of the remains of some earlier and more
sumptuous building, over the supposed grave. There was nothing of interest
within; only the usual marks of Mussulman devotion, ragged shawls, ostrich
eggs, and a few beads. These were in the upper chamber. The great high-priest,
if his body be really there, rests in a subterraneous vault below, hewn out of the
rock, and in a niche now cased over with stone, wood and plaster. From the flat
roof of the chapel we overlooked his last view—that view which was to him
what Pisgah was to his brother. To us the northern end was partly lost in haze ;
but we saw all the main points on which his eye must have rested. He looked
over the valley of the Arabah, countersected by its l^ndred water-courses, and
beyond, over the white mountains of the wilderness they had so long traversed ;
and at the northern edge of it, there must have been visible the hights through
which the Israelites had vainly attempted to force their way into the Promised
Land. This was the western view. Close around him on the east were the rug¬
ged mountains of Edom, and far along the horizon the wide downs of Mount Sier,
through which the passage had been denied by the wild tribes of Esau, who
hunted over their long slopes. A dreary moment, and a dreary scene-^uch, at
any rate, it must have seemed to the aged priest."
I say it was with regr.et I yielded to the necessity that barred
the way to this mountain tomb. How much I should have
enjoyed a visit to this spot where the great Hebrew high-
priest laid aside his sacerdotal vestments, resigned the lionors
of his high position, and yielded to the stern mandate that
closed his earthly mission. "And Moses stripped Aaron of
his garments and put them upon Eleazer, his son ; and Aaron
died .there in the top of the mount." Hum. xx. 28. Heai
338
EGYPT AND SINAl
this, also, is that now ruined and deserted but once populen»
and wonderful
. CITY OF" PETEA.
Here was Edom, the "bloody or red-earth.'' Here was
Mount Seir, here, also, the inheritance of Esau, and here once
lived the Horites, " dwellers in caves," whom Esau and his de¬
scendants displaced. Here, as early as three hundred yeai»
before Christ, the Nabatheans became the conquerors and pos¬
sessors of the land. They were an Arab tribe, descended from
Ishmael's eldest eon ISTebaiotb. They became a numerous,
powerful and commercial people, and were the artificers of the
world-renowned monuments that are now the astonishment of
all who visit the land. It is Petra and the monuments of its
vicinity that, aside from Mount Hor, constitute the great at¬
traction that draws the curious traveler to the place, and would
attract hundreds more, were it not for the obstacles thrown in
the way by the lawless, plundering tribes that now infest the
land. The gorgeous coloring of the rocky cliffi, with their
ever varying hues of blue, purple and yellow, are spoken of as
being inconceivably beautiful. In many places, these cliffs
have been carved into beautiful sculptures of dwellings, tombs
and temples. The^ tombs are not only cut with immense
labor, but with exquisite taste and skill. Here are tombs story
above story, and numerous labarynthine ramifications—tombs
of Corinthian mold, of arched terraces, with Latin inscriptions
and Sinaitic inscriptions.
As you come upon the city, we are told that a single glance
at the heaps of hewn stones, broken columns and mounds of
rubbish that cover the whole, valley, is suflSlcient to show that
every available spot was once occupied by buildings. What is
most singular is, that so many of the structures here, not of
tombs merely, but of public buildings and dwellings, are hewn
entire from the rocky cliffs that abound in the valley. The
most remarkable one of all these is called "the Deir." This is
a huge monolythic temple, hevfn entire—Corinthian columns,
entablatures, arches, stairways—with all its rooms and append¬
ages, cut from the solid rock of the mountain side—a massive
"VIEW AT PETE A—THE ROOK-HEWN TEMPLE.
sbfulchbaij oaves in the ouvfb of waba mouba in uoont lkvl
PROPHECY FULFILLED.
843
"Structure, the lower row of columns being seven feet in diame¬
ter and fifty feet bigb, even rivaling in point of magnificence
those of the renowned temple of Balbeck !
But these things we were not permitted to see. Toward
them, as we stood upon the mountain hights of Sinai, we cast
long and earnest glances, but upon them we were compelled to
turn our backs. They are among the ruins that stand as
monumental records of the genius and enterprise of an pxtinct
nation. They are a portion of the Handwriting that God has
left in this wonderful land of his judgments and overruling
Providence. What could be supposed to be more enduring
than temples hewn from solid rock? What people could have
been more secure than those who were .shut in and fortified
amid these mountain ramparts ? And yet, as the traveler comes
and wanders among these ruins, sits down amid their solitude
and silence, and gazes upon their crumbling, moidering monu¬
ments, he reads, as if re-written by the finger of the Almighty,
the declarations recorded by the prophets: "Thorns shal.
come up in her palaces, nettles and brambles in the fortresses
thereof .... When the whole earth rejoiceth, I will make
thee desolate .* . . . Thou shalt he desolate, O Mount Seir,
and all Idumea, even all of it ... . Thus saith the Lord of
Hosts, they shall build and I will* throw dojvn .... Thy ter-
ribleness hath deceived thee, and the pride of thine heart, 0
thou that dwellest in the clefts of the rocks, that boldest the hights
of the hill ; though thou shouldst make thy nest as high as the
eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the Lord.
Also, Edom shall be a desolation, every one that goeth by it shall
be astonished." Isa., Jer., Ezekiel.
BREAKING UP OP THE CAMP.
March 6th. Again the morning dawns upon us, but the
night has added another to the interesting variety of incidents
that has characterized our stay at the mount. This was the
fall of a slight shower of rain, the first we have seen since we
left Egypt. But little rain fell, scarce enough to wet the can¬
vas of our tent ; but what to me was of particular interest, it
was accompanied by one broad flash of lightning and a heavy
344
EGYPT AND SINAI.
clap of thunder. As the thunders woke the echoes of the
mountain cliffs, and reverberated from peak to peak, now forci¬
bly it reminded us of those grand exhibitions of Divine power,
that near four thousand years ago had been enacted on these
very bights. Slender as our tent was, and poorly as we were pre¬
pared to endure a storm, I should have been sorry to miss this
interesting little episode in our stay at the mount, by which we
were carried back to the scene of the giving of the law, and
reminded of the thunderings and the lightnings that there ac¬
companied the appearance of God in his majestic descent upon
Sinai
Our dragoman called us at half-past 4 o'clock, that we might
be ready for an early start. As we had supposed, our old sheik,
Medaka, with his attendants, proceeded to pack our camp
equipage upon the backs of his camels, though it was accom¬
panied by a wonderful war of words, and a great amount of
wrangling and violent gesticulation. Quite a number of Arab
men and boys gathered around to witness our departure, but
they were all respectful, and there was no clamoring for back¬
sheesh. Children and women, during our stay, often made
earnest solicitation for it ; one woman, in particular, threw hack
the folds of her dress, and exposing the head of her little squalid
looking infant, laid her hand'imploringly upon it, and begged
for a few paras.
Notwithstanding our vigorous efforts for an early stait, it
was near 8 o'clock before all was in readiness and our camp
was in motion.
FAREWELIi TO SINAI.
"We had come in by the Valley of Rahah; we took oui de¬
parture by the Valley es Sheik. We left our camels and
walked on some distance down the valley. We looked hack
again and again, and gazed long and earnestly upon the tall
peaks of Sinai, as they stood in towering grandeur, kindled by
the glory of the morning sunlight. For near three miles down
the valley the frowning summit of Horeb remained full in
view, and we could not but think how from this valley, as well
as from llahah, the tented hosts of Israel must have witnessed
DEPASTURE PROM SINAI.
84Ô
the sublime descent of God upon that lofty peak. At last, a
bend in the valley brought the eircling hills in a closer amphi¬
theatre about us. "We turned, and gazed and gazed, as the
mountain gradually vanished from our sight. It was with a
feeling of regret we turned away, impressed with the thought
that we should see it no more.
Farewell, thou Mount of God! Thy visitants.come and go,
and they may die and be forgotten, but thou remainest forever
the same. The purple sunlight of autumn, and the kindling
glories of spring bring no changes for thee. Thy towering
crags expose their naked breasts to the blue sky, defying alike
the wintry storm and the lightning's scathing blast.. Thy sub¬
lime and monumental peaks stand enthroned amid perpetual
silence and solitude. Thou hast no wooded dells; no green
slopes ; no perfume of flowers, or song of birds. Thine orna¬
ments are frowning clifis, overhanging crags, and solitary
glens. But thou hast an everlasting name, as thou art an ever¬
lasting monument. Hither have I traced the overruling provi¬
dence of God, guiding the pen of human genius and art in the
records of forgotten tombs and sculptured tablets. On thee I
have seen the flnger of God writing upon tables of stone his
own unchanging and everlasting law. 0, Sinai, what lessons
thou hast taught the human race ! What imposing architec¬
ture stamps thy majestic pile I God's mighty cathedral—his pa¬
vilion of glory! Jehovah's presence thine unapproachable
light, his rolling thunders the solemn anthem bell that sum¬
moned the audience! Was it not for,this purpose God reared
thee on high, a mighty altar, from the deep foundations of the
solid globe? The great drama completed, the law given, the
new dispensation established—once sanctified by the presence
of the Amighty—he has gathered around thee these barren
hüls, these wide wastes of desolate and gloomy sands, these
lofty defenses of solitary mountains, and shut thee out from the
busy world, for thou art never to be used again ! In thine own
Bolitiide and silence thou standest, an everlasting preacher—a
perpetual memorial of God's revelation of himself to man '
Thanks for the lessons thou hast taught me. Mount of the
living God, Farewell ! Farewell!
846
ÄÜTPT AND SINAI.
CHAPTER XV.
Return to Suez—Ancient Egyptian Ruins—Arrival ai
Cairo—Concluding Remarks.
March Ith. A violent altercation took place this morning
among onr camel drivers and the sheik, in which I observed
the dragoman took no part. He afterwards informed us it was
because there were more men and camels than were needed.
One was to be dispensed with, and it was difficult to decide who
should leave. It seems this business of transporting travelers
is considered as belonging to the tribe, and, therefore, the labor
is divided among as many as possible, and each one is anxious
to share in the gains. One man proposed to leave, and the
sheik offered to compromise with him by paying him one dol¬
lar and a quarter. With this he was not satisfied. He, how¬
ever, left; but how it was settled we did not leam. We re¬
gretted his leaving, for he had a milch camel, and having had
a taste of the beverage in our tea and coffee, we had formed the
purpose of sponging a little daily, from the baby camel for our
own use.
the grave oi the sheik.
Soon after starting this morning we passed another Bedawin
burying-ground. It had no inclosure, and each grave was dis¬
tinguished by a heap of stones at the head, and another at the
foot. It was a desolate, cheerless looking place, amid the pro¬
found solitude and silence of the naked desert; and yet I won¬
dered if there had not been shed upon those bleak, hard-fea¬
tured. formless graves as honest tears of genuine sorrow as
any that ever fell amid the sculptured marble and blooming
flowers of Laurel Hill or Mount Auburn.
CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN.
347
One grave attracted particular attention. It was distin¬
guished by a monument in the usual Moslem form, and over
this had recently been placed a canopy of long, brown waeds,
as a. mark of special honor ; upon these several different colored
strings and sticks had been hung. This was "the grave of the
Sheik"—the resting place of a holy man—and the earth that
touched it became holy also. It was but a few steps from our
road, and our sheik and drivers hastily ran up to it, snatched
from it, each, a handful of earth, sprinkled it upon their own
heads and rubbed it upon the heads of their camels. In taking
the dust, each gathered a handful from another place and threw
it hack upon the grave, that the supply of holy earth might not
be exhausted.
March Sth. "We encamped last night in Wady Kemileh.
Our first two days' ride had so wearied us we could scarcely
sleep. The morning was clear, cool and invigorating, and we
were soon ready for another day's ride. We had come this
way to visit some interesting ruins upon the summit of a moun¬
tain called
SURABIT EL E.HADIM.
We had talked with our dragoman several times about seeing
this mountain, and understood we were traveling this way for
that purpose. We knew that a diagonal road turned off from
our main path, and by this detour the mountain was usually
reached. We rode on, expecting to he led to it, when we found
we were likely to pass it, leaving it a mile or two to our left.
Suspecting something wrong, we inquired of our dragoman if
we were not going to visit the mountain. He replied, " he did
not know we wanted to go to it, he thought we only wanted to
sr? it" This was an interpretation of language we had not an¬
ticipated, and to correct the blunder, or rather the deception—
for I believe it was an artifice of his to save three or four ñours'
time—we were forced to make a direct turn from our road to
the mountain. A half hours' ride, however, brought us to its
base. The mountain is about seven hundred feet high, and one
of oiir drivers acting as guide, we immediately commenced the
ascent.
m
EGYPT AND SINAI.
This we found a more difficult task than we had anticipated
It was near middày, and the sun's rays were reflected from tho
heaited rocks with an intensity that, at times, almost suflfocated
us. Our pathway lay along shelving, precipitous rocks, where
we could scarce retain a foothold, sometimes with difficulty
holding on with our hands; and this, too, in many places where
a misstep would have been hazardous, not only to limb, but to
life itself. The mountain is sandstone, and, in some places, has
been much worn by the action of water into most singular and
fantastic shapes. In several places, the face of the rocks looked
like a net work of iron.
After three-fourths of an hour's hard climbing, we found our¬
selves upon the summit. On searching for the ruins, they were
no where to be seen. Looking across a deep ravine, we saw the
scattered heaps upon an opposite peak. Our guide had made
a mistake, and led us up the wrong ascent. It appeared but a
short distance across to the ruins, but a deep valley intervened,
and we had learned enough of the deception of these moun¬
tain passes not to trust our eyes.
Down we went, clambering along the rocks—down, down,
until at last we reached the bottomi of the deep ravine, and
again we commenced the ascent. This blunder of our guide
was extremely provoking, and cost us much hard labor. At
last, every thread of our under-clothes wet with perspiration,.
we reached the summit of the right peak. The top was a
broad, oblong plain, containing one or two acres.
THE BUINS
"Were more, extensive and of more interest than we had an¬
ticipated. They are considered some of the most remarkable,
as well as the most ancient, of any in the peninsula. Dr. liob-
inson's description of them is so accurate, we have taken the
liberty to copy from him :
"They lie mostly within the compass of a small inclosnre, one hundred and
sixty feet long by seventy broad, marked by heaps of stone thrown or fallen to¬
gether, the remains, perhaps, of former walls, or rows of low buildings. Within
this space are seen about fifteen upright stones, like tombstones, and several fallen
ones, covered with Egyptian hieroglyphics ; and also the remains of a small tem-
nlet whose columns are decorated with the head of Isis for a capital. At the east-
EÜINS IN THE DE8EET.
349
prn end is a subterraneous chamber, excavated in the solid rock, resembling an
Egyptian sepulchre. It is square ; and the roof is supported in the middle by a
square column left from the rock. Both the column and the side of the chamber
are covered with hieroglyphics ; and in each of the sides is a small niche. The
whole surface of the inclosure is covered with fallen columns, fragments of sculp'
tare and hewn stones, strewn in every directipn ; over which the pilgrim can, with
diflSculty, find his way. Other similar upright stones stand without the inclosure
in various directions, and even at some distance ; each surmounted by a heap of
stones, which may have been thrown together by the Arabs. These upright stones,
both within and without the inclosure, vary from about seven to ten feet in bight ;
while they are from eighteen inches to two feet in breadth, and from fourteen to
sixteen inches in thickness. They are rounded off on the top, forming an arch
over the broadest sides. On one of these sides usually appears the common Egyp¬
tian symbol of the winged globe with two serpents, and one or more priests pre¬
senting offerings to the gods ¡ while various figures and cartouches cover the re¬
maining sides."
OEIGlN OP THE RUINS.
"While such are the ruins that are now found upon this ele
vated out-of-the-way place, the question arises : " When, and
by whom, were these structures built ? " They were not the
work of Christians, or of the solitary anchorites, who, in the
early ages of Christianity, made homes and sepulchres among
these gloomy hills. They, are evidently of Egyptian origin,
and of a date long anterior to the Christian era. The tablets
are covered with Egyptian heiroglyphics, some of them of a
very ancient date. The names of several Egyptian kings are
found on these stones; among them Osirtasseen, 1740 years
B. C. ; Thothmes III and I"V ; Eemeses the Great ; Eemeses
lY and Y ; the latest one found being that of Eemeses YI.
The place is supposed to have been a temple or sacred inclos¬
ure for worship, and that these sculptured tablets were erected
in honor of the successive sovereigns of Egypt, according to
their succession.
But the question again arises: "Why wîre they built, aud
for what purpose were the people that built them here?" The
solution of this is found in the supposed existence of copper
mines in this immediate vicinity. We have before spoken cf
such mines in Wady Magarah, and of the inscriptions left
there by the ancient workmen. The mines in this vicinity are
not now known, but the evidences of such mines having been
23
860
EGYPT AND SINAI.
worked still remain. Lepsius tells us that he observed in the
vicinity of these ruins great slag hills of a dark color, with
traces of ancient roads leading into the neighboring mountains.
These show that extensive copper mines existed somewhere
near, and that this was a place chosen for smelting operations,
Not far from this, to the westward, he also found some places
formerly used for smelting purposes.
From these statements, it appears that as early or before the
time of the Exodus, men of science and art, probably from
Egypt, had penetrated among these hills, and opened the
bowels of the earth for their hidden treasures. Here miners
lived and toiled—here built their temples and worshiped theii
deities. It is supposed these mines were finally abandoned as
early as 1170 years before Christ.
Our .excursion upon these mountains, added to a long day's
nde, was very fatiguing ; we welcomed the return of night, and
the cot bed of the desert seemed to us softer than the eider
down of a kingly palace. In .this sterile desert, one seldom
meets with any thing that has life, but to-day we saw two
quails, much like our American quails, except that the coIot
was more like the sands among which they lived.
March 10. Some trouble and delay were occasioned in the
camp this morning. One of our dromedaries took it into his
head during the night to escape from servitude. He was no
where to be found, and it was clear he had run away. One of
the pack camels had to be substituted, and his load apportioned
among the rest, while one of the drivers was dispatched to
search for the fugitive.
Soon after starting, we met a caravan of nearly one hundred
camels. They were divided into squads of eighteen to twenty-
five each, with several drivers for each company. They had
been to Suez or Cairo for supplies for the Arabs in the southern
part of the peninsula^ and were mostly loaded with grain.
A GRAVE or A HORSE.
About half way between "Wady Useit and Ghurundel, we
passed a cairn, or. pile of stones and dirt, said to be the grave of
the horse of Abou Zennab—his horse killed in battle. All
SINGULAR CUSTOMS.
851
concerning him seems to have passed from the memory of the
Arabs, except that he left a request, or command, that every
one that passed should throw a stone or some sand on the pile,
and say : " Eat, O horse of Abou Zennab ! "
Just before reaching this, we passed another pile of stones
m a little hollow by the roadside, upon which one or two ot
our drivers cast a stone. I inquired what it meant, but none
of them could give any account of it, except the Arabs throw
stones on the pile, and say : " Arise, 0 man ! "
Soon after leaving the pile that perpetuates the memory of
the horse, we came to another similar pile of stones by the road¬
side, which our dragoman said was the grave of a guilty couple,
convicted of a violation of the laws of chastity. They were
slain, and buried here, and the Arabs throw stones upon the
grave, and thus heap reproach upon the memory of the guilty
parties.
As we rode on we ascended an eminence, and caught a view
of the Ked Sea. It was an animating sight, and we hailed it
with joy, as indisative of our near approach to a land of civil¬
ization. About 12 o'clock we came again to the supposed
place of Israel's encampmént by the fountains and the palm
trees of Elim. Here we stopped to take our noon-day lunch,
and here we were initiated, by one of our attendants, into the
Arab method of
MAKING BREAD.
The process is a very expeditious and simple one. A few
small sticks of brush and dry roots were collected, a small space
leveled upon the sand, and the fire kindled. While the sticks
were being reduced to coals, a few handfuls of flour were put
into a small wooded bowl that answered the purpose of a
kneading trough, a little salt thrown in and sufficient water to
wet it. The whole was thoroughly mixed with the hands.
The ball of dough was then laid upon a cloth and patted out
with the hands into a thin cake, looking much like a Hew
England short-cake. By the time the dough was kneaded the
fire was ready ; the coals were raked aside with a stick ; the
cake, by the aid of both hands beneath it, carefully laid upon
352
EGYPT AND SINAI.
the hot sand, and the coals and ashes raked o^er it Here U
was allowed to lie six or seven minutes. The fire ?»a8 then
raked off, the cake turned, and the coals and hot ashes again
covered over it. In about twelve minutes after it was put into
the fire, it came out full baked. The ashes ana sand were
shaken and brushed off, and it was laid before us as a part of
our lunch We were surprised at the facility with which the
work was done, the whole process occupying but little more
than a quarter of an hour.
This bread came out of the ashes not only astonishingly
clean, but the fiavor was unusually sweet. We not only ate it
with a relish, but after having lived so long on dry brown
bread, we wished for more. This simple process of making
bread, we suppose was an illustration of the manner in which
old Abraham baked his bread on the plains of Mamre, four
thousand years ago, when he entertained the angels. We also
thought we had learned the use and necessity of the kneading
troughs of the Israelites, which they carried with Àem when
they went out of Egypt. This was the way they baked their
bread in the wilderness, and this is the way the Arab tribes
have baked it ever since.
During the afternoon we passed the fountain of Marah, with
its bitter water, and a few miles beyond it, encamped for the
night. Toward morning, the man who Went in search of the
runaway camel came in, bringing the deserter with him. A
simple breakfast of ham and eggs was dispatched, and again
we were on our way, anxious to escape from this dreary wilder-
'ness. Towards night the wind increased, and the sands came
driving like snow across the open plain ; we were under the
necessity of covering our eyes, and the camels seemed to be
nearly blinded by it. The whole air was thick and dark, and
we could see but a few rods in any direction. The night came
on cold and dreary. We could find no, shelter of bush, bank
or hill, behind which to pitch our tent. About 5 o'clock we
camped on the open plain, the wind driving up furiously from
the direction of the sea. Eor sometime I feared the men
would not be able to m'àke our tent stand. At last, by the help
oi extra ropes, it was made fast, and poor as the shelter was.
LAST DAT IN THE DESEET.
353
we were glad to take refuge in it from the driving storm of
sand.
The cook contrived to kindle his charcoal fire, and from the
-emnant of our stock of chickens prepared us a comfortable
supper, which we ate with a hearty relish, though well pep¬
pered with the drifting sand. One can scarcely conceive a
more dreary and cheerless condition than a camp at such a time
and in such a place—the sands drifting about you, and the folds
of your little cloth tenement fiapping and snapping in the
wind, the frail ropes strained to their utmost tension, liable
every moment to snap asunder, and leave all to the mercy
of the tempest. But it is our last night in the desert. A half-
day's ride will bring us to Suez. Cheered with the thought
that we were so near our journey's end, we lay down to rest,
and despite the cheerlessness of our condition, were soon enjoy¬
ing a profound slumber.
ABRIVAL AT SUEZ.
March 12th. The wind this morning has considerably abated.
Et is the last day of our camel riding. At 10 o'clock, Moses'
Wells appeared in sight on a distant elevation, about one hour
ahead of us, and far beyond Suez was in full view, looking pre¬
cisely like a great clump of trees on the sea-shore, though there
is not a tree in the place. Hail, cheerful sight I
, At 1 o'clock we reached the landing opposite Suez, sent our
camels and baggage round the head of the gulf, and signaled
for a boat to come and again ferry us over the waters that, in
ancient times, divided their yielding waves to make a highway
for the ransomed people of God. While waiting, we took the
opportunity of refreshing ourselves after our long and dusty
ride by an invigorating bath in the waters of the sea; and if,
after your long and intimate association with camels and Beda-
win, old saddles and old blankets, you find a few stray denizens
of the camp have taken up their residence in your apparel,
don't be alarmed. A few changes of clean linen will set things
ah to rights. A remnant of one of the ^reat plagues of the
Exodus still cleaves to Egypt and the desert, sometimes to the
great annoyance of the traveler.
354 EGYPT AND SINAI.
The waters were passed. It being low tide, our boat could
not reach the landing, and we were carried on shore, sitting
astride the shoulders of an- Arab boatman, holding on with
both hands clasped about his forehead. The first thing I did.
was to hasten to the reading-room of the European hotel, in
search of home news. I found London papers of February
24th, containing a summary of American news to February
13th. Though just one month old, it was all news to me, and
I devoured it with the eagerness a famishing man would his
meal.
ADIEU TO ARABS AND CAMELS.
March ISíA. Our tent life in the desert is over. Thanks to
modern art and enterprise, Cairo, instead of three day's weary
camel ride across the desert, can now be reached by railroad in
a few hours. "We took leave this morning of our camel drivers
and sheik, we to visit other lands and other bible scenes ; they
to return to their solitary desert homes. Dreary and forbidding
it indeed seemed to us ; but to its scanty fare and cheerless sands •
they were born and bred, and there, in comparative content¬
ment, they live.
The sheik pressed his claim quite importunately for a back¬
sheesh, but our bargain with our dragoman had been so ex¬
plicit, we determined not to depart from it. Believing we had
paid our dragoman sufficient to allow him to fully compensate
his employees, to him we referred our desert guide. In all our
intercourse with him and his men, we found them kind and
obliging; would that we could command a richer blessing on
them tnan the Prophet has power to give—^the blessing of that
Savior whose knowledge maketh rich. Among the remem¬
brances of our visit to the Mount of God, the erect form, pleas¬
ant countenance, and kindly greetings of Sheik Medaka will
hold a conspicuous place.
BIDE TO CAIRO.
At half-past 8 o'cjpck our train was in motion—Suez and the
sea faded away behind us—the desert, like a mighty ocean,
once more closed around us. Again we hailed with joy the
COMFORTS OF A. HOTEL.
355
cheerful sight of the green valley of the Nile, the walls, mina¬
rets and citadel of Grand Cairo ! Again, the doors of the Eu¬
ropean hotel opened for our reception, and we were among En¬
glish and American friends. That night, as I laid my head
once more upon a pillow in a good bed, and in a comfortable
room, after having slept seventeen nights in a tent, and endured
the toil and fatigue of desert life, the incense of gratitude went
up from my heart to Almighty God, whose protecting care I
had enjoyed, and by whose kind Providence I bad been granted
a safe return.
conclusion.
Our stay in this land of antiquities is about to close. How
many places of interest we have been allowed to visit ! How
many lessons we have learned! "We have seen Egypt and Si¬
nai; have stood amid the moidering ruins of the one, and the
stern grandeur and impressive sublimity of the other. "We
have walked over the land of Israel's bondage, gazed upon the
sea that opened its waters for their deliverance ; traversed the
desert in which God sustained them, and climbed the mount
that trembled at his presence! "We have ascended the pyra¬
mids, and felt the vanity of human greatness, and the uncer¬
tainty of. human hopes. The Sphinx has preached to us; the
fallen statue of Remeses has been our instructor; we have,
walked over the ruins of On and Noph, and strange voices have
we heard amid their desolate solitudes ! Ancient tablets have
spoken to us, and tombs have been eloquent with sermons and
lectures. We have read the Handwritino of God and seen the
traces of the foot-prints of Deity !
Truly, this land is one of God's great historic books. Here he
has written lessons for all coming posterity, and page after page
is now being unfolded and read. Their dead men speak, and
stones come up and testify. A signet ring from the vault of
an ancient tombj the inscription upon which centuries of decay
have not been able to deface, fixes the reign of à king, and de¬
termines the date of an important event. Bricks of unburnt
clay, torn up from some long buried ruins, speak of Israel's
bondage and labor. A planetary configuration upon the crum-
856
EGYPT AND SINAI.
bling walls of some ruined palace or temple, fixes an important
era in chronology. Household implements, workmen's utensils,
articles of apparel and ornaments, remnants of idols, broken
altars and paraphernalia of worship, preserved in tombs and
sarcophagi, and recovered from the long buried ruins of cities,
tell us how four thousand years ago men lived, thought, felt,
labored and worshiped. Here we are taken back to the infancy
of history—to the days of Abraham's journeyings, Israel's
bondage, and Moses' mission. We learn how he was selected
by the Almighty to transmit to posterity the ancient history
of the world. We learn that as early as seven hundred years
after the fiood, and hut little more than two hundred aftei
Hoah's death, here was a people ruled by a king, with laws, lit
erature and religion. We see how Manetho and the Egyptian
monuments unite to substantiate the truth of what Moses has
written, and how recent developments are settling chronolog¬
ical dates and historic facts with astonishing precision. Sure¬
ly, the hand of the Lord is in all these things. He who formed
the earth and the world, though vailed in clouded majesty, has
been present. Omnipotent in power. Infinite in wisdom, direct¬
ing and overruling all !
Our travels are not yet ended. We have now a journey to
make to
THE HOLT LAND.
We are to go through the Land of Promise—of Israel's in¬
heritance and Israel's rest—the land of Patriarchs, Prophets
and Apostles—the land of the Savior's nativity, of his mighty
works, his wonderful death, and his glorious resurrection and
ascension ! The results of this visit will be embodied in anothei
book. May the journey be as full of interest and instruction
as the one just closed has been. May the Lord give us eyes to
see, ears to hear, and hearts to understand the lessons of in¬
struction that will meet us at every step of our way. So lor
the present,
ADIEU.
INDEX.
EGYPT AND SINAI.
A-aion's Calf| m^ld of 323
Toml) 337
Acacia, see Shittim Wood... 273
Ain Hawarah 232
Akaba, route by 332
Alexandria, City of. 69
Dress and habits of the
people 76
Night in 72
View of. 43
Apis Cemetery 124
The bull 184
Arabs, bargains with 127
Desert customs 248
Making bread 351
Song at Pyramids 130
Supper. 240
Backsheesh 114
Bargain with dragoman 215
Bazars, Cairo 87
Beda win burying-ground 265
Common dress 247
Bobbers 269
Bedawins 244
Marriage customs 249
Boston, arrival at 13
Bottle-boy at Pyramids 132
Bread-making 351
Burning Bush, Chapel of 298
Burying-ground 265
Cairo, arrival at 93
Mosques of. 197
Old 117
Streets of. 97
Camel's foot-print, Sinai 317
Loading 226
Carriage riding in Cairo 194
Catacombs 68
Chapel of the Fleas 314
Elijah and Elisha 315
Charnel House, Sinai 300
Cheops, Pyramids of. 124
Ascent of. 129
Interior of. 135
Chicken ovens 120
Children, Egyptian 208
Mode of carrying 77
Church of St. John, Malta 38
Transfiguration, Sinai.... 297
Circumcision 107
Citadel at Cairo 201
Cleopatra's E eedles 66
Convent, St. Cathárine, Sinai.. 286, 297
History of 290
Interior of. 295
Greek, Cairo 23 7
Copper mines, ancient 253, 349
Costumes, gentleman's dress 99
Variety of. 98
Cummmings, Dr 27
Custom House, Alexandria 46
Liverpool 20
Derweshees 211
Desert, appearance of 237, 243
Vegetation of 236
Dieppe, France 29
Donkey-boys 64, 116, 153
Biding 63
Donkeys 62
Dress of laboring class 210
Egypt, climate of 96
History of. 49
Map of 10
Population of. 81
Egyptians, mechanical power of.... 179
Elim 235
Encampment hy the Sea 250
Ezbekieh, Cairo 96
Ferian, Oasis of. 270
^ Wady of. 266
Finances for journey. 23
Forest, petrified 162
France 34
Funeral, Obsequies, ancient 186
Procession m
Garden of Convent 299
Gizeh 121
Pyramids of. 12S
358
INDEX.
Grave of a horse 350
Harem, Alexandria 7^
Helena 291
Henna staining 168
Hermits in Sinai desert 271
Hieroglyphics 255
History, preservation of 56
Holy Land 356
Hor, Mountain of 336
Horeb, ascent of. 320
Plan of 304
Hotel, de Louvre, Paris 30
European, Alexandria 47
Hyssop 275
Ibis Mummy Pits 124
Inscriptions, Sinaitic 255
Israelites, bondage of. 87
At Eed Sea 230
Joseph and his brethren 187
Home of 159
Well of. 202
Lake of the Dead 185
Library, Alexandria 60
Liverpool, landing at 21
London, description of. 22
To Paris 29
Malta 37
Maltese divers 39
Mamalukes, origin of. 53
Tombs of 163
Destruction of. 204
Manna plant 276
Perpetual miracle 280
Its spiritual significance 281
Marriage custom 248
Procession 106
Marseilles 35
Marah, bitter waters of. 232
Sweetning the waters 234
Memphis 176
History of. 177
Miracle, perpetual one 280
Missionaries at Cairo 172
Mohammed Ali 54
Great canal 75
Moses at the Mount of God 331
His infancy 120
Life in Egypt 189
Beturn to Egypt 190
Wells of 230
Well at Sinai 296
Mosques of Omer and Tayloon 198
Mosque of Mohammed Ali 203
At Sinai convent 299
Of Sultan Hassan 200
Mount Hor 337
Sinai, see Sinai
Mountains, color and form of. 272
no*.
Moving masses of stone 179
Muezzein call to prayer 74
Murkah, Plain of. 251
Napoleon, campaign of. 54
Nile, description of 90,119
The ferriage 119
Voyage 212
Noph, ancient 176
Nubk Howey, Windy Pass 282
Obelisk, Heliopolis 150
In Paris 82
On, City of. 156
Home of Joseph. 159
School of Moses 160
Palm Grove, beauty of. 175
Paris and Champs Elysees 31, 32
Paris, Sunday in 82
Paul's shipwreck. 40
Peninsula of Sinai, inhabitants of... 244
Petra, route by 333
Buins of 338
View of 342
Petrified forest 162
Pharaoh, ruined city of. 174
Baths of. 237
Destruction of 224
Palace of 187
Pharos » 45
Place de la Concorde 33
Plain of Murkah 251
Pompey's Pillar 65
Prophecy, fulfilment of. 69, 160
Pyrami(k, age of. 139
By whom opened 146
Cheops. Gizeh 124, 125
Interior of 136
First view of 93
Why built 145
Bailroad to Cairo 74
Cairo to Suez 218
Bed Sea, encampment by 250
Israelites crossing 228
Befiections at Memphis 192
Pyramids 131
Bemeses, great statue of. 178
Betem, wild broom 274
Bosetta stone 58
Sarcophagus at Pyramid 142
Scripture, illustration of 91
Selling milk, Malta 89
Serapis, Temple of, 60
Shadoof. 166
Sheik, description of 246, 281
Grave of. 346
Home of 282
Quarrel with 302
Shittim wood 273
Shoobra, Palace of. 161
I
Binai, arrival at 283
Âscent upon the Mount 313
Boundaries about 310
Convent of. 290
Descent from 318
Design of Israel's visit 308
Encampment of the Israelites 309
Encampment at 285
Farewell to 344
Picture of. 288
Flan of. 304
Preparations for a visit to... 214
Summit of. 317
"Volcanic phenomena 331
Sinaitic inscriptions 255
Where found.. 258
Peculiarities of 258
Origin and his¬
tory of. 261
Slave market 102
Smitten Bock 324
Description of 326
Smoking in Egypt 82
Snakes, exhibition of. 112
Sphinx, description of. 147
A preacher 150
Spurgeon, Bev. G. H 25
St. Catharine 297
Stone, moving blocks of. 179
Storm at Sea 18
Strange show 112
Street cries, Cairo. 168
Suez 219
Beturn to 353
dun,. City of. 156
Fountain of. 158
359
rABK.
Sun, Temple of. 157
Surabit el Khadim 347
Buins of 348
Tawaras 244
Tattooing 168
Tombs about Pyramids 152
Transfiguration, church of 297
Turban 81
Tusset Sudhr, mountain 231
Valetta 38
Valley of the Cave 253
Viceroy's Palace,'Alexandria 70
Villages of Egypt 76
Wady Ohurundel, Elim 235
Useit 238
Taiyibeh 250
Shellal 251
Maghara 253
Feiran.; 266
Christians in 271
"Water in the desert 241
Watering land 164
Wild broom 274
Windy Pass 282
Women, dress of. 79
On camels 166
Biding 103
Tattooed 170
Veil of. 83
Written Valley 254
Zoan, field of » 84
({WilttMi for tb« BoUar Newspaper—PhilAda.]
THE FAST.
' Tis tbe past that giyes
The truest and the loreliest light
In which the future liTes."
Tits past—how bright the glance
, We cast o'er life's nnencUng chgih;
We see the joys we once had felt.
Bat neTer can behold again.
We see childhood's dreamy landscape ;
^ Its pleasant days, its happy hoars,
'^pent with the loved of <> long ago,"
When its transi^ bliss was oars.
We see yoath's ideal season.
Pass qnickly by, alasj too soon ;
And e're we tasted «í its pleasures,
They had varJshed into gloom.
We see manhood's brightest visions
Tanish beneath Time's magic touch ;
\ye see wittiin death's cold embrace
The friends Uiat we have loved so mach.
Eat while darkness round us gathers,
A light above the pathway gleams ;
liike sunlight o'er the heaving waters.
Breaks en the path—on youth's bright dreams.
'While earth's sorrows hard oppress ns,
The past within our bosom's hid:
The past—'Us life's truest beacon ;
Shall we forget them 1—Grod forbid.
X love tbe past—shall ever love it.
And 'tis the greatest boon I crave,
^bat its bright hours won't be forgotten,
|k Till all is lost in o Lethe's wave."
^s old age, it slowly deepens.
And pleasores ene by one decline ; ' - ^
Then shall pre monrn, ah ! sadly moum^
The days or Lán^ Synt /" if.
Eatt Smiihßeld, p«., 1862.
THE
HANDWEITIN6 OF GOD
IN
EGYPT, SINAI,
AND THB
HOLY LAND:
THB
RECORDS OF A JOURNEY FROM THE GREAT VALLEY OF THE WEST
TO THE SACRED PLACES OF THE EAST.
BY REV. D. A. RANDALL.
WITH
MAPS, DUGRAMS, AND NUMEROUS ELUSTRATIONS.
(Sit (Sniitm (x tit ilxitliSnttttnj of (Soir, snlt all aijutx au tnotix (a tt*
PHILADELPHIA:
JOHN E. POTTER AND COMPANY,
J. W. GOODSPEED & CO., 148 LAKE STREET, CHICACK), ILL., A»v
37 PARK ROW, NEW YORK.
Entered according to Act of Oongresa, in the year 186'*, by
D. A. RANDALL,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Conrt of the United States, for the
Soothem District of Ohio.
INTKODTTCTION.
The reasons for writing this book have been given in the
previous work on Egypt ànd Sinai. The purpose at first was
to publish but one volume, but in the preparation of tfie work
it was found necessary to extend it far beyond the original
design.
The author was also in hopes to have included in the work
the narrative of his tour through Europe, but, as the work pro¬
gressed, it was found impracticable to do so, as it would either
too much extend the size, or crowd out the notice of many in¬
teresting things in the Holy Land which it seemed important
to mention.
In consideration of the size of the work, it has been deemed
advisable to divide it into two parts, one on Egypt and Sinai,
the other on the Holy Land. The paging and indexing have
been made to correspond to this arrangement, so that the two
parts can be put up separately or together, as patrons may wish.
Should it yet be deemed advisable, a supplemental volume will
be added of the return home through Europe.
We repeat here what we said in the introduction to the first
part of the work, that the book is not designed for the critic
and the scholar, but for the mass of common readers. The
portion of country through which it takes the reader is, to the
Christian, one of the most interesting in the world;, and the
book is given to the public with the same desire that accompa¬
nied its predecessor, that it may be read with profit, and prove
a useful auxiliary in the increase of knowledge and the estab¬
lishment of truth.
THE HOLY LAND
"Those holy fields,
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nailed,
For our advantage on the bitter cross."
Euro Hbnrt, IY.
" Thy holy cities are a wilderness,
Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation,
Our holy and our beautiful house.
Where our fathers praised thee.
Is burned up with fire ;
And all our pleasant things are laid waste."
Bibu.
24
¿rr V,
rot or r/fnn úfñceyw 4 K y!^/J4t
THE HOLY LAND.
. CHAPTER I.
Okpaetuiie from Egypt—^Voyage from Alexandria to Jaffa—
Ride from Jaffa to Jerusalem.
Cairo, Egypt, March 15,1861.
In our work on Egypt and Sinai, we have taken the reader
to some of the most interesting localities of Lower Egypt ;
have looked upon its remaining monuments, and reflected
among its ruins. "We have also taken him through the dreary
desert of Sinai, and stood with him amid the sublime scenery
of the Mount of the Law. These rambles have been full of in¬
terest, and many an instructive voice have we heard, impressing
upon us lessons not soon to be forgotten. We are now to re¬
sume our travels, and make the tour of the Holy Land. The
Holy Land! How the heart heats high with expectation at the
very thought! A land dear to the Jew, and the very mention
of which kindles the devout emotions of every Christian heart !
As I have before stated, I met in this place two American
gentlemen, with whom I made arrangements to make the tour
of Palestine with me. Our preparations wère soon completed,
and on the 15th of March we bade adieu to Grand Cairo. A
ride of one hundred and thirty miles on the Viceroy's fine
railroad brought us to Alexandria. This journey can be. made
for about nine dollars and a half, five dollars or two dollars, ac¬
cording to the class of cars selected. Time, aJ)out six hours.
Saturday was spent mostly in business arrangements prepar¬
atory to our departure. In getting drafts on London cashed
here, in British or French gold, we found the rate of exchange
and commission about four per cent, against us. In Cairo, it
was about the same. We called on the American Consul and
10
THE HOLY LAND.
had our passport recognized, though a vise for Syria is not ne
cessary here, if one has been procured in England or France—
Egypt and Syria being under the same government. Our con¬
sul here assured us it was necessary, and took from us a fee for
doing it, but we found no use for it. Our passports were not
called for in any port or city in Syria; and after leaving Alex¬
andria, we had no call for them by any government official tih
we reached Smyrna, in Turkey.
SUNDAT-SCHOOL IN ALEXANDRIA.
In the evening we called upon the American Missionaries
of the Associate Eeformed Presbyterian Church. The mission
is in charge of a Rev. Mr. Höge and his lady, of Scotland. A
Miss Dale, of Philadelphia, and a Miss McCullouch, of Ohio,
are assistants. "We had an interesting interview with them,
and on Sabbath morning accompanied them to their Sabbath
school.
After wending our way through many of the narrow lanes of
the city, and in the thickest portions of it, we were taken to
one of those strange looking eastern houses, which I cannot de¬
scribe, and up two pairs of stairs to the school room. Here we
found about fifty children, a large proportion of them girls,
neatly clad, looking sprightly and intelligent, listening with
apparent interest to the instruction given. They were all
shades of color, and the representatives of several different na¬
tions—native Egyptians, Copts, Jews, Italians, French, Syrians,
Maltese, etc. Some of them, the teacher informed me, could
speak several different languages, and some of them could
write the Lord's prayer in four different languages. I was
much interested in two Syrian young ladies, assistant teachers,
from Damascus. They had lost their mother by death, and
their father was killed in the recent massacre of the Christiana
in Syria. They were accompanied by two little brother^, who,
with them, had escaped, and had been driven to this place foi
protection. Their story was a sad one, and touched the sympa¬
thies of my heart, but I rejoiced in the thought that m Jesus
they had found a friend dearer than any earthly one, and in
God a father, who has given his special pledge to provide for
BRIBING AN OFFICER.
11
the orphan. The school appears to be in a prosperous condi¬
tion, and, I should think, was sowing seed that will ripen into a
future blessed harvest. They sang our common Sabbath
school tunes, set to Arabic words. The language I could not
understand, but I could sing with them in spirit, and my
'Jioughts were carried back to my own school, and the interest
ng scenes of a Sabbath morning in my own native land were
rividly before my mind.
ALEXANDRIA TO JAFFA.
Monday morning, 10 o'clock, found us on board the Russian
steamer Pallas, in the port of Alexandria, bound for Jafia, the
nearest landing place in the Holy Land, the distance about two
hundred and fifty miles, the time of the voyage usually from
thirty to thirty-six hours. "We had on board a motley crew of
divers nations, professions and languages. There was not one
of the officers or crew with whom I could talk. Fortunately,
one of my traveling companions could master a little Italian,
and the steward of our cabin could answer to it, so we had no
difficulty in making our wants known.
In getting on board we had the usual gauntlet to run of don¬
key boys, boatmen and loungers. Our boat engaged, we
handed in our traveling bags, and were about to step from the
wharf, when a tolerably well-dressed man, with loose trousers
and turban, and a staff of honor in his hand, stopped us, and
claiming to be an officer of the customs, intimated that our lug¬
gage should be examined. We did not believe he had any au¬
thority to interfere with us, but supposed it to be some menial
of the police after a backsheesh. We peremptorily told the
boatment to push off. He hesitated, as if afraid to comply, and
replied: "0, gib him sumftin." Hot knowing how cheaply
the official could be bought, but disposed to try, I handed him
an English sixpence for our company of three. He seemed
disposed to protest, but I turned my eye upon him with a look
in which he read an emphatic "that's all.'' He turned his
back upon us, and we proceeded without further molestation,
but with a hearty laugh among ourselves at the cheapness of
the bribe.
12
THE HOLT LAND.
There are lines of French, Russian and Austrian steamers
from Alexandria to Jafia, Beirut, Smyrna, and all the principal
ports'of the Levant, so that there are generally one or two op¬
portunities every week of leaving this place for the Holy Land.
Our steamer is a Russian craft, but well built, manned and fur¬
nished. The rates of fare to Jaffa are about twenty dollars for
first cabin, and twelve dollars and fifty cents for second. Many
poor pilgrims take a deck passage, and are carried for a very
trifling sum. Persons wishing to economize their expenditures,
will find a second cabin passage on any of these steamers com¬
fortable as they could desire. The state-rooms are good, beds
are clean, and table well supplied with a good variety of pro¬
visions, and well cooked.
At 10 o'clock we moved out of the harbor, an4 steamed
away in a northeasterly direction. I stood upon the promenade
deck, my eyes intently fixed upon the receding shore, and as it
faded from my view I bade
FAREWELL TO EGYPT.
Adieu, thou strange and wonderful land ! Desert and gar¬
den, river and plain, modern cities, majestic and moidering
ruins, adieu! Land of the labyrinth, the phœnix, the pyra¬
mids and the Sphinx, I shall see thee no more I "What a trea¬
sure book of history and of study thou hast been ! The schol¬
ars of modern nations have wandered among thy ruins, and
thou hast been their teacher. The spirit of modern investiga¬
tion has brooded over thee, and the chaos of thine ancient his¬
tory has assumed form and shape. God in his wisdom has
caused light to shine out of thy darkness.
Once thou wert the pride and glory of earth, but now bow
changed and fallen ! The tombs of thy scholars have been
lost; thy Phœnix has perished no more to renew his sepulchral
flames; thy Memnon is forever silent, and thy temples and
gods have crumbled into dust ! O, Egypt ! how thou hast been
plundered of even the remnants of thy former greatness ! The
denizens of thy tombs have been borne away; thine obelisks
have been removed; and what remained of thy statues, altars
and images, have been stolen to adorn the parks and enrich the
FA3EWELL TO EGYPT.
13
muséums of modern cities. Degenerate land, thy children once
called thee "Mother of the World!" "Thou, who hast given
all things to mankind—^laws, science, industry, arts—why'hast
thou kept nothing for thyself? " But still thou hast a name—
an everlasting name. Thou hast monuments that can never
perish. And though thou sittest in silence, solitude and degra¬
dation, the traveler will still come and muse among thy ruins, -
and thou wilt long continue to be an instructor of the nations!
Such were the reflections that pressed themselves upon me as
the dark line of shore grew fainter and fainter, blended with
the rolling billows of the deep, and—was gone. I looked about
me, there was the ship on which I stood, the deep blue vault of
the heavens over my head, the vast expanse of waters that en¬
circled me—all the rest had disappeared.
We have now a ride of a day and a half from Alexandria to
Jafla; how shall we occupy the time? There are so many in¬
quiries for information as to the modes of foreign travel, neces¬
sary outfit, and best mode of getting along, I propose to give
the reader some of the results of my experience thus far.
Other particulars, as to time, expense, and the like, I will give
hereafter. So take a seat with me under this deck-awning, and
T will give you a few
GENERAL DIRECTIONS.
Most persons burden themselves from the very start with too
much luggage. Let the quantity be as limited in amount, as
light, snugly packed, and portable as possible. I took no trunk
with me. Two good sized leather traveling bags or carpet
sacks, which you can take in your hands, if necessary, are am¬
ply sufi5.cient. You need take no change of clothing except
under garments, and of these only two or three changes, as
you can get washing done frequently, and when your garments
are worn you can get new in any city of the East, even in Cairo,
Jerusalem and Beirut, cheaper than at home. One pair of pants
lasted me through all my travels in Egypt, Sinai and Syria, till
I reached Smyrna, where they were exchanged for new. One
traveling coat lasted me till I was as far on my return as Rome,
where for eight dollars I bought a good black broadcloth one.
14
THE HOLY LAND.
that served me the rest of the way, and in which I was not
ashamed to make my appearance among my friends at home
One pair of boots is sufficient. Have them made large, of best
calf-skin, and double soles. If you intend to visit mountain re¬
gions and make foot excursions, this last direction is absolutely
essential. These excursions make a heavy draft on shoe-leath¬
er. One day's climbing amid the sharp, granite rocks of Sinai
and Horeb will nearly demolish an ordinary pair of light boots.
Besides enduring the wear, the heavy soles are essential for the
protection of the feet. "With a large sized, thick-soled boot,
the feet will not blister and suffer as with light ones. You will
also need to take with you a good overcoat and a large blanket
shawl. You will find many places where both these articles
will add very much to your comfort. A light umbrella wiU
often be needed to protect you from the sun, sometimes from
the rain, and a light India rubber wrapper is often a great con¬
venience.
Have your name plainly printed on your traveling bags or
trunk, if you carry one, and put on a temporary card labeled
with the place of your immediate destination. The more close¬
ly you can attend to your baggage yourself, the less likely you
will be to meet with loss or delays in having it left or misdi¬
rected. The above directions as to the amount of luggage, of
course, applies only to single gentlemen, and those wishing to
travel as economical as possible. If you have ladies with you,
luggage and expenses, as a consequence, must be proportionally
increased; and if you wish to fee servants and pay extras, you
can take as much with you as you are willing to bear the trou¬
ble and expense of.
On landing in a foreign port or at a railway station, you will
immediately find yourself surrounded by runners and criers,
and if among people of a strange language, a perfect jargon of
sounds will be poured into your ears. Hotel cards will be
thrust into your hands, prices bawled out, and a dozen porters
will be snatching for your luggage. This will increase the
farther you go east. The insolence and rapacity of boatmen,
hackmen, runners and carriers seem to increase in proportion
as the intelligence and refinement of the countries in which you
VEXATIONS OF TEAVEL.
15
travel decrease. The Englishman, or the American even, will
bleed your purse as freely as the.Arab or the Turk; but he will
do it so much more politely and adroitly, you will scarcely real¬
ize the swindle.
PASSPORTS
Are quite a source of trouble and expense. The necessity of
having them recognized and countersigned at the different
ports, as you pass from country to country, often occasions much
delay and trouble. You have to visit sometimes two or three
different consuls, as well as the police officers. In a city of
strangers and a strange language, this is often quite perplex¬
ing. Y et, vexatious as it is, the passport sometimes becomes
very necessary; and the right of appealing to the consul of one's
own nation for protection and justice, is found a very essential
and important privilege. If two or more persons are traveling
together, the expenses may be greatly diminished by háving
their names all on one passport. This any consul in any port
where company may join you has a right to do, and the ex¬
pense of a vise is no more for a passport containing a dozen
names than for a single person. This is worth remembering.
The expenses of one's passport for a tour through Europe and
the East, if alone, will amount to near twenty dollars, and if
you have several traveling companions, this can be divided
among them.
CUSTOM-HOUSES,
As well as passports, you will find a serious annoyance, but
you must learn to let patience have her perfect work. In some
ports, though nbt many, you will not be permitted to take your
own baggage with you on shore. In most places, custom-house
porters are appointed to convey it from the vessel to the reve¬
nue office, and these porters are responsible for its safety. You
must follow it yourself, or send your keys by some servant or
agent. In the examination, do not be cross, or in a hurry.
Open your packages, and invite examination. Courtesy and
good humor will be almost sure to meet a corresponding re¬
turn. The officers have their duty to do, and it is often a disa-
16
THE HOLY LAND.
greeable one to them as well as you. Avoid any thing calcu>
lated to increase the unpleasaatness of that duty, for they cau
return any lack of courtesy on your part a thousand fold. If
you have any articles you know are liable to pay duty, declare
them to the officer. If they are in small quantities for your
own use, or for presents to your fiiends, you will seldom be
charged any thing on them. If you attempt to conceal them,
and they are discovered, they are liable to seizure and confisca¬
tion. Remember, also, that any police officer at any time, and
in any place, has a right to demand and examine your pass¬
port; and any custom-house officer, if he choose, has a right to
search your person.
MARINO ACQUAINTANCES.
Under this head I cannot do better than to give the substance
of what an experienced person has said: "Let the American
trust mostly to the force of his own address, and the occa¬
sional contact incident to travel, for the formation of pleasant
acquaintances. An intimacy will often be established in the
course of a few hours' journey, of a more substantial, enduring
and profitable character, tfian may be achieved through the
medium of a letter of introduction. What Queen Elizabeth is
alleged to have said of the recommendatory character of a
' good face,' is of great force among the middle classes in Eu¬
rope. And better even than the good face, is the pleasant
manner, the unafiected disposition to be satisfied, the anxiety
to obtain, and the readiness to communicate information. Re¬
serve and taciturnity must be scattered to the winds the mo¬
ment a person leaves home to seek knowledge and agreeable
intercourse abroad. Let not the apprehension of a rebuff deter
the trav^eler from asking questions of any fellow-traveler—^ba
that individual a gentleman or lady—upon matters of general
interest. The chances are that in nine cases out of ten he will
receive courteous replies and ready information. And thia
will be likely to be more prompt and cordial, if he proclaims
'himself an American, making a tour in gratification of a laud¬
able curiosity. There is a natural desire, among all civilized
countries, to create favorable impressions on the minds of for-
ADVICB TO TRAVELERS.
17
eignero. Many, on discovering they are communicating with
persons of intelligence and good breeding, will tender an invi¬
tation to their dwellings, or volunteer to become the cicerone of
the stranger."
The excellency of this advice I proved on many occasions
I .went with my eyes and ears open, and my tongue loose, and
many a profitable and pleasant acquaintance did I form, on
railroad cars, ships, and in hotels; and the declaration of
American citizenship I found a talisman to unlock the reserve
of the most taciturn. "While upon this point I will mention
but one thing more. A friend, who had been over the ground
before me, in closing his directions, gave me, as a last and gen¬
eral rule, to be remembered in all my travels: "Eelieve no¬
body, trust your common sense, and go ahead." Unpleasant as
it may be to carry in one's heart such distrust of those about
him, I found the precept of great use to me in many trying
îircumstances. *
But while we have been talking, darkness has settled down
2pon us. Other directions and particulars relating to expenset*
and the like .will be given as we proceed. Let us now com •
mend ourselves to the protection of. Almighty God, and seek a
night's rest. To-morrow we hope to press with our feet the
soil of that land towards which we have so long and so anxi¬
ously looked.
Tuesday, March Vltk. Yesterday we had a "heavy sea. To¬
day the wind has abated, the sea is comparatively calm, and
the day bright and pleasant. Most persons, in entering Pales¬
tine from this direction, take a dragoman with them from Al¬
exandria. This we did not do, as we had no doubt but we
could readily enough make our way to Jerusalem without, and
then we could take one when we found it necessary. This,
though it subjected us to some extra perplexities, was a grea
saving in our expenditures. "We were favored also in having
in our company a German from Alexandria, who could talk
Arabic, and who thus became to us a sort of guide and inter¬
preter.
About 1 o'clock all eyes were turned anxiously towards the
land, eager to catch a first view. In about half an hour, a long,
18
THE HOLY LAND.
low, dark line was visible, beneath the great bank of fleecy
clouds that skirted the horizon. Some said it was land, some
affirmed it to be only a bank of clouds. A field-glass was
brought into requisition, and the question settled—^it was the
Holt Land. As we approached it, the outlines became more
distinct, the hills assumed shape—the whole line of coast was
distinctly seen, and the queer looking stone city of Jafia—the
Jbppa of the New Testament—with its fort-hke houses, rising
tier above tier, upon the hill-side, was fully and clearly in view.
I will not attempt to describe my feelings as I approached it—
far diflerent from any I ever experienced before. I was about
to realize the long anticipated desire of my heart, to walk upon
the soil pressed by the feet of patriarchs, prophets and apostles,
and visit the localities where they lived and labored, and com¬
muned with God.
THE LANDING.
This was far more difficult than I had anticipated, both from
the roughness of the sea, and the rudeness of the rabble around
the beach. There is really no harbor at Jaffa, and in high
winds it is unsafe for vessels to stop at all, and they are fre¬
quently compelled to take" the passengers on to Beirut. The
sea was not so rough as to prevent a landing, but enough so to
make it difficult. It was dusk as we approached the shore, and
the landing place was a scaffold built out over the sea, ten to
fifteen feet above our heads, and as the waves lifted us up, we
must be caught and pulled up by the natives standing above.
Here they had crowded, half-naked* barbarous looking fellows,
as thick as they could stand, yelping, crowding and pushing,
eager to 'lend a helping hand that they might claim a back¬
sheesh. It was a long^ time before I would consent to pass up
my baggage, for there was no one above to be responsible for
it. At last, seeing no alternative, I passed up my bags, and they
were immediately snatched by half a dozen, and while they were
contending who should take them, a couple of stout fellows
seized me by the arms, and dragged me upon the platform. 1
soon succeeded in wresting by main strength my carpet sacks
from the contending crowd, got them upon the shoulders of a
LANDING AT JAFFA.
19
native, and with him, amid shouts for backsheesh, forced my
way through the crowd. I had scarcely got out of the press,
when a savage looking fellow seized me by the shoulder, calling
out in broken English, " Backsheesh, backsheesh, I pull you
up immediately another was upon me, " Backsheesh, I pull
one arm." I was glad to get rid of the crowd on any terms,
and handing them a quarter of a dollar, they decamped. I
thought I had been in many close places, among hackmen,
boatmen and donkey boys, especially at Alexandria and Cairo,
but I had never seen the like of this before. But our diflS^cul-
ties at last were at an end, and we found a quiet retreat for the
night in the Latin convent of the place. The monks treated
us kindly, and made the best provision they could for our com¬
fort ; but their convent is a dark, cheerless looking place. There
is one public house here for the accommodation of strangers,
but the traveler will find no special inducements to prolong his
stay.
Before leaving home I had, by the kindness of a friend, been
furnished with letters of introduction to Dr. Barclay, author of
" The City of the Great King," an American by birth and ed¬
ucation, and for many years a resident of Jerusalem, and mis¬
sionary of the Disciples. He was now residing at Jafia, where
he has a beautiful location among the orange groves near the
city. I went out to call on him, desirous of availing myself of
his knowledge of the country in the further prosecution of my
journey. Through the lying treachery of some Arab servants,
my design was frustrated, and, much to my disappointment, I
failed to see him. I afterwards met the Doctor in Jerusalem,
and received from him much valuable assistance and informa¬
tion.
The forenoon was mostly spent in procuring horses and mak¬
ing arrangments to go on to Jerusalem. The distance is about»
thirty-six miles; the time about twelve hours; the roads mere
foot-paths, up and down rocky hill-sides, and along rough and
difficult ravines. The usual price for a horse to Jerusalem is
twenty piasters, or about eighty-five cents. In consequence of
the number of pilgrims at this season of the year, (Easter,) and
the increased demand for conveyance, one hundred piasters was
50
THE HOLT LAND.
demanded for one horse. After considerable bantering, a verj
common thing here, we succeeded in procuring horses for out
company of six at sixty-five piasters each, a piaster being, as
we have stated before, about four and one-fourth cents,
JOPPA AND ITS HISTOBT.
This place is now called Yaffa by the Arabs, and Jaffa by the
Franks. The houses are all of stone, very compactly built, the
streets very narrow, and many of them, like Malta, stone stair¬
ways, arched over head. It contains about five thousand inhab¬
itants, about one thousand of whom are Christians. A few
Jews are found here, perhaps not more than one hundred and
fifty in all. The town has the usual accompaniment of dogs,
fleas, ragged children, and lazy, dirty, half-naked men.
This city is of very ancient date, ranking among the oldest in
the world. It is several times mentioned in the Old Testament
In the apportionment of the land among the tribes under
Joshua, Joppa is mentioned as one of the maritime towns al¬
lotted to Dan. When Solomon commenced building the House
of the Lord, the cedars which the King of Tyre cut upon Leb¬
anon were floated down to Joppa, and from thence conveyed
across the country to Jerusalem. After the return from the
captivity in Babylon, we are informed that the Jews gave
" meat, drink and oil unto them of Zidon, and to them of Tyre,
to bring cedar trees from. Lebanon to the sea of Joppa," for re¬
building the House of the Lord. But the chief place of inter¬
est to the Christian visitor is
THE HOUSE OF SIMON, THE TANNER.
This is the house where Peter lodged, and upon the top of
which he had his remarkable vision. Dorcas, a renowned
Christian disciple, had sickened and died. Peter was stopping
at Lydda, but a short distance from this place, and his fame for
working miracles had spread over the country. A delegation
was sent from the bereft friends of Dorcas to call him to this
scene of mourning. And when he was brought into the upper
chamber, " all the widows stood by him weeping and showing
the coats and garments which Dorcas had made." Dorcas was
HOUSE or SIMON.
21
iestored alive to her friends, and Peter was invited to lodge
with Simon, the tanner.
^
Whether the house to whichl'we were taken is really the one,
may he considered very doubtful, but it certainly answers to
the description given in the 10th chapter of Acts. It is by the
sea side, and one of the terrace walls is washed by its restless
waves. The house is a very ancient one, and being stiongly
built of stone, is well calculated to endure the wear and tear of
time. But whether the house can be identified or not, there is
no doubt but this is the city ; and either om this roof or some
other one not far distant, Peter performed his devotions, and
had that remarkable vision, in which he was taught that God
was no respecter of persons, but that in all nations he that
feared him and worked righteousness should be accepted of
him—that the gospel was not for the Jew only, but for lost and
sinful man wherever found. Here it was that the vision was
interpreted, and Peter's doubts resolved, by the arrival of a del¬
egation from Caesarea, with whom he was instructed to go,
with the assurance that the vision was of God.. Caesarea was
visited; the prayer of Cornelius was answered; himself, and
his worshiping company, received the word of God, the conso¬
lations of Christian faith and hope were imparted to the Gen¬
tiles, and the door of the Christian church opened for their
admission. ,
To me there was manyan interesting reflection connected
with this event. I had been traveling over the ground where
the ordinances and ceremonies had been instituted, that had
hedged in, like an impassable barrier, the Jewish nation.
How, I was entering upon the land where these partition walls
of laws and ordinances that were against us, had been broken
down, that all men might become fellow-heirs in the blessings
of a glorious and eternal salvation.
From the battlements of this roof we could look down upon
the shore from which Jonah embarked on his perilous voyage;
for when he undertook to run away from obedience to the com¬
mands of the Almighty, he came to Joppa, and found a ship
going to Tarshish. Here our eye rested upon the waters that
were laahed into fury by the fearful storm, and there dwelt the
22
THE HOLT LAND.
leviathan in whose capacious maw the disobedient prophet
found a living tomb. If all who thus attempt to run away
from the Lord should meet the fate of Jonah, what an amount
of work the " great fish " of that sea would have to do !
This city was one of the strongholds of the Assyrians. In
their wars with the Jews, they and the Egyptians sacked and
pillaged the place five times; three times it was taken by the
Romans, and twice it was plundered by the Saracens, in one of
which conquests eight thousand of its inhabitants were butch¬
ered. March, 1790, it fell into the hands of Napoleon, and
the visitor now goes down to stand upon the spot where four
thousand soldiers, chiefiy Albanians, in violation of the terms
of capitulation, were marched out with their hands-tied behind
them; and deliberately shot by Napoleon's order. Here, too,
the traveler is told, this same military commander, when forced
to commence his retreat across the desert to Egypt, finding in
his hospitals from four to five hundred of his own men whom
he could not remove, administered to each a dose of poison and
left them behind !
The modern city, which, but twenty years ago, contained only
about six thousand inhabitants, has, within a few years, includ¬
ing the gardens of the suburbs, more than doubled its popula¬
tion. Her gardens, orchards, and orange groves now constitute
some of the most delightful portions of the land.
OEPABTURE FOB JERUSALEM.
At 2 o'clock our arrangements were completed, our horses
were at the place of rendezvous^ and our luggage packed up'On
a couple of mules. "When my horse was brought me, I found a
poor, miserable, foundered nag—an ugly looking ringbone on
one of his feet—totally unfit for service. The horses furnished
the others, though mean enough, were far superior to mine. 1
declined to accept him, and decidedly refused to go unless a de¬
cent horse was furnished. A rabble of Arabs always gather
around on such occasions, and they declared he was tibe, (good,)
and to prove it one of them mounted him, to show off his agili¬
ty. In starting, he struck his ringbone foot against a stone,
and went hobbling off on three legs, much to the chagrin of
A BEAUTIFUL PLAIN.
23
the rider, and the gieat amusement of the by-standers. The
scene was so ludicrous, roars of laughter burst from every side.
Still the groomsman declared he was tibe, and would do well,
after he had gone a mile or two. But I was firm, and refused
to accept him. I was then solicited to ride him as far as the
gate, assured, that there another should be furnished. I sus¬
pected this was only a ruse to get me started, and then leave
me to get on as best I could, and I learned afterwards such was
the fact. I had no idea of being turned off^ith any such shab¬
by, broken-down pack-horse, and after much gesticulation and
higgling, seeing no way of bringing the rascals to terms, I per¬
emptorily ordered my baggage to bo taken from the pack-mule,
and told them I would look out a horse for myself. This had
the desired effect, and in less than ten minutes a decent horse
was furnished me. I mention this as one incident among many
of a similar kind, showing the disposition of the natives and the
manner of their dealing with travelers, as well as the necessity
that often compels one to contend sternly with them. As a
general thing, those natives the traveler comes in contact with
in business transactions are an arrant set of knaves.
BAMLEH AND PLAIN OF SHARON.
"We left Jaffa by the only gate upon the land side, and set
our faces towards the Holy City. The country about Jaffa is
certainly a most delightful one. Extensive plains, covered with
luxuriant vegetation, stretched along the shore of the sea, and
far into the interior. Large orange groves were just yielding
their luxuriant harvests of golden-colored fruit. Such oranges
I had never before seen, and had no idea they ever, grew to
such great size. The ground was dotted with fiowers of every
hue, and the air was vocal with the music of birds.
Our road lay directly across the beautiful Plain of Sharon.
It commences on the north at the base of Carmel, and thus in
scripture we find Sharon and Carmel mentioned together. It
IS a long, low, maritime plain, running southward to Philistia.
Sharon signifies "level ground," or a "a plain." In tne early
history of Israel it was noted for its fine pasturage.
In the days of the prophet Isaiah, the voice of inspiration
25
2ít the holt land,
é
proclaimed that Sharon should be a wilderness. "What was
then predicted is now fulfilled. The traveler every where, as he
rides over this beautiful plain, sees written in unmistakable Ian ■
guage tbe fulfillment of the prediction. But few villages are
seen, and but few cultivated spots adorn it. It has become a
home for the lawless, wandering Bedawin. Here his black
tects dot the landscape, and here he roams with his fiocks of
sheep and goats. With its wide undulations and verdant slopes,
it is still beautiful to the eye; and one, as he rides over it, can¬
not but regret that it should be given up to neglect and deso¬
lation.
THE ROSE OF SHARON.
We wondered if we could be favored with the sight of that
once renowned and beautiful flower to which Solomon likened
his beloved. A missionary, long resident in the country, in¬
formed me, as the result of his investigations, that it was now
impossible to determine what particular flower was meant. Ho
one, he thinks, can now tell what the Hose of Sharon was.
Another one thinks the malva, a sort of marsh mallows that
grows abundantly upon this plain, rising into a stout bush,
bearing thousands of beautiful flowers, may be the plant alluded
to. Others, again, object to this, and contend for the real rose,
queen of flowers, wild varieties of which are said to grow on
some parts of this plain. It is quite certain the rose was known
to the ancients, and beautiful ones might have been grown upon
the dry, sandy soil of this plain. The knowledge of the par¬
ticular flower alluded to may have been lost; we may never see
its beauty or be regaled by its fragrance; but the real Kose of
Sharon lives—his beauties are unfading, and he unfolds his
charms to every believer, whether he be an inhabitant of the
plain, a child of the desert, or the mountain. On this route
you pass near, and can visit, if you choose, the ancient city of
LTDDA, OR LUDn,
As it is now called. It numbers about two thousand inhab¬
itants, and is surrounded by beautiful groves, among which may
be seen the olive, the fig, and the pomegranate. Despite the
MIRACLES AND BATTLES.
I aia that has crept over the country, it is a pleasant spot for
the eye to rest upon, and there is about it an air of thrift and
prosperity that can be seen in but few places in the land. Here
are the ruins of the old church of St. George ; indeed, it is said
to bo the birth-place of that renowned knight and dragon-
killer. One noble old arch of the church is left standing, a sad
memento of its former imposing grandeur.
This is one of the few places that retains its ancient Hebrew
name. Of the children of Lod there returned from the Baby¬
lonish captivity seven hundred and twenty-five, and Hehemiah
mentions this city as being in the valley of craftsmen. But
what is of more interest, we shall now be constantly passing
over ground that has been consecrated and immortalized, not
only by deeds of Old Testament history, but by the marvelous
miracles of the Hew. Once there lay in that city a poor, af¬
flicted man, who, for eight years, had kept his bed with the
palsy. An apostle of the Savior came journeying this way, and
stood by the bed-side of the helpless man. What strange lan¬
guage he uttered. " Eneas, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole ;
arise, and'make thy bed." And he arose immediately. It was
the fame of this great miracle that called Peter to Joppa to re¬
store Dorcas to life, and that ended in his illustrious mission to
the ¿entiles. Surely we are entering upon the. arena of re¬
nowned and wonderful events. We should have mentioned as
we passed about an hour's ride from Jaffa,
BEIT DEJAN, OB BETH DAGON.
In this name the reader will readily recognize an ancient
scriptural locality, suggestive of the old deity of the Philistines.
Indeed, stretching away all along to the south of us is the coun¬
try of that powerful race of people, who so long and so success¬
fully opposed themslves to the people of God. There is Aske-
lon, Ashdod, Gath and Gaza, from which the intrepid Sampson
bore the ponderous city gates. It was on this field, too, he per¬
formed many other renowned exploits. Here he slew the lion
and puzzled the people with his strange riddle; and near us
are some of the great battle-fields where fearful scenes of
blood and carnage have been enacted. It was among these
26
THE HOLY LAHD.
cities the captive ark of God went wandering, when the people,
troubled and afflicted at its presence, sent it from place to place.
Beth Dagon means "House of Dagon." So we may conclude
that here that renowned deity had one of his celebrated tem¬
ples. It was into one of these temples the people brought the
captured ark of God, and in the morning their god Dagon was
found prostrate before it. An invigorating ride of about two
hours brought us to
BAMLEH.
Bamleh means " sandy," and is surrounded by a sandy plain,
covered with luxuriant vegetation. The large gardens, inclosed
• with enormous cactus hedges, have a very singular appearance.
As you approach the place, your attention is arrested by an old
ruined stone tower of great size, and one hundred and twenty
feet high, standing upon an elevation one-fourth of a mile from
the town. How came that imposing specimen of architectural
skill and industry here? Who can tell? As you approach it
you pass over many old vaulted cisterns, and other ruins are
seen in the vicinity, indicating the existence, in former days, of
a population in its immediate vicinity. The Arabs now claim
it as the minaret of a ruined mosque ; but it was probably the
tower of an ancient church erected by the Crusaders; and long
before the muezzin's call to prayer waa heard there, it was the
tower of a Christian church," from which the tolling bell called
to the worship of the Sarior.
Ramleh some suppose to be the Arimathea of Joseph. Oth¬
ers tell us it was not a Kew Testament town, hut was probably
built in the early part of the eighth century. It has a prominent
place in the history of the Crusaders. They found it a walled
city, with four gates opening to each of the four cardinal points.
It had its markets, mosques, and stores of provisions. In 1099,
as the Crusaders approached, the city was deserted by the in¬
habitants, and the invaders found rest and refreshment within
its walls. Here, it is said, they held a great fèast in honor of
St. George, and formally installed him as their patron, on ac¬
count of the miracle he had wrought in their favor at Antioch.
About an hour before sunset we entered the town. There is
RIDE TO JERUSALEM.
27
;io public house here, but there is a Latin convent, occupied by
a few Spanish and Italian friars, within the walls of which
travelers can find a resting place—not, however, on the princi¬
ple of charHy—the monks expect a liberal fee for their boiled
eggs and brown bread. "We furnished ourselves with a day's
rations at Jafia, the German missionary of the town furnished
us an empty room, matrasses and blankets, and we passed a
second night in the Holy Land in comparative comfort.
OUR XACES TOWARDS THE HOLT OITT.
Anxious to be on our way,'we rose at an early hour in the
morning. At 3 o'clock we made a frugal breakfast of bread
and cofiee, and were several miles on our way before the
morning light had illuminated the eastern sky. The ride from
Jaffa to Jerusalem is said to be one of the most dreary in all
the country. The road winds over rocky hills, through deep
and crooked ravines, and along slippery banks. There was,
undoubtedly, a good road through here in Solomon's time, and
so there must have been in the days of the Roman occupation ;
but nearly every vestige of these former roads have been swept
away. The ravines and side-hills are annually washed by the
torrents of the winter rains, and it can scarcely be said there is
any road at all. A bridle-path is all that exists, and this is, in
many places, extremely difficult, even for the experienced
horses of the country. The distance is probably about thirty-
six to thirty-eight English miles. With luggage and ordinary
horses, it can be passed over in about twelve to fourteen hours ;
with a good horse and no incumbrances, a person might per¬
form the journey in seven or eight hours.
We passed near the head of the Valley of Ajalon, and sent
an earnest, searching look along the country over which Israel
pursued their discomfited enemies, while, at the command of
Joshua, the sun and moon stood stiU in the heavens to give
them time to finish the work of destruction. We soon left the
plain and entered upon the "hill country." Our road now
became rough and more difficult. Sometimes our horses weie
sliding along smooth, shelving beds of solid rocks ; now climb¬
ing a rough ascent, where it would seem only goats could get
28
THE HOLT LAND.
a foothold ; now tramping the pebbly bed of some wild, deep
ravine. The horses of the country are accustomed to traveling
here, and it is astonishing with what carefulness and precision
they will make their way along these difficult roads.
valii ot one of oub horses.
Notwithstanding the perilous condition of the road, but one
accident occurred. The horse of one of the party slipped upon
the edge of a ravine, fell, and rolled into a ditch that had been
plowed out by the winter torrent. There the poor beast lay,
back down and feet up, wedged under a projection of rock, un¬
able to move an inch. It took several men to lift the helpless
brute into a position where he could again recover his standing.
The rider slipped from his back and came off with only a
sprained ankle; the horse came out unharmed. We began
now to understand the force of the scripture expression, "hill
country of Judea ; " hilly enough, indeed, we find it, the rocky
ascents rising all around us. Few signs of inhabitants were
seen, and the country has a neglected and desolate look. But
though the hills have been washed by winter rains till the pro¬
jecting rocks are bare and barren, the evidences of former in¬
dustry and fertility are every where apparent. The remains
of the terraces that once adorned them from base to summit,
are still visible, and, occasionally, a straggling olive, or an em¬
blematic fig remains, to tell the story of former cultivation and
fruitfulness.
a bobber's glen.
One of the wild ravines through which we passed is cele¬
brated as the scene of the exploits of a robber chieftain, named
Abou Gaush. No one could go through this narrow pass with¬
out his sanction. The solitary traveler and the grand caravan
were alike the object of his plunder. The whole country stood
in fear of him, and travelers trembled at his name. Two
pashas, on one occasion, attempting to pass here with their reti¬
nues, were shot dead by this daring bandit. For nearly fifty
years he contrived to elude capture, and prosecuted his career
of plunder and crime. At last, in 1846, himself and several o4
BESTING PLACE OP THE AKK.
29
318 principal men fell into the hands of the Turkish authorities,
and were sent to Constantinople. The road is now safe, but
the remembrance of these bloody atrocities often sends a thrill
of terror to the heart of the timid traveler. Emerging from
this dark glen you come upon
KIR JATH-JE ARIM.
Like most of the villages you see here, it is built of stone,
and stands high up the hill-side. The hill is terraced, and
dotted with olive and fig trees. The massive walls of a fine old
Gothic church, dating back to the days of the Crusaders, add
to the'picturesque appearance of the town ; and towering among
the smaller houses, may be seen two or three castle-like build¬
ings, that were once the stronghold of Abou Gaush, the bloody
chieftain. Here some of his descendants still reside, and the
people of the place are said to still inherit much of the turbulent
and hostile spirit that their former education has infused into
them.
This place is now called Kuryet el 'Enab, i' the Village of
Grapes," and is the site of the Kirjath-Jearim of scripture,
"the Village of Forests," originally one of the cities of the
Gibeonites, who so adroitly beguiled Joshua into a league of
peace. It is also called in the Bible Kirjath Baal ; and stood
on the southwest angle of the territory of Benjamin, ten miles
from Jerusalem. But it was none of these things I have men¬
tioned that led me to linger as my company rode onward, and
turn and look again and again upon Kiijath-Jearim. I re¬
membered it as the place where the ark of God rested.
Hear three thousand years ago that ark had been taken from
its resting place beneath the covert of the tabernacle at Shi-
loh, and borne before the armies of Israel. But Israel had
sinned against the Lord, and though they carried the symbol
of his presence, God went not with them. They were over¬
come in battle, and the ark of God was captured by their ene¬
mies. The Philistines carried it to Ashdod, and Dagon fel
prostrate before it, and fearful judgments troubled the city
They sent it to Gaza, and thence to Ekron, but God had never
intended that the profane hands of idolaters eliould pollute the
80
THE HOLY LAND
consecrated symbol of his presence and glory. Wherever d
went plagues followed it, and fear fell on the people. At last
it was sent back to its own people. The men of Kiijath-Jearim
received it. On the top of yonder hill, they brought it into the
house of Abiuadab, and sanctified Eleazer, his son, to jceep it;
and here it rested till David, after he was crowned king, pre
pared a place for it on Mount Zion.
I had stood upon the place where that ark was built and
sanctified, and God first covered it with the cloud of his gloiy.
I had dwelt with intense interest upon every portion of its his¬
tory. I was anticipating a visit to old Shiloh, where for six
hundred years it stood as the center of Israel's worship : and
every spot of ground over which it had been carried seemed to
possess a peculiar sanctity.
riRST SIGHT OF ZION.
On we went, sometimes climbing along the rocky hill-sides,
and now picking our way along the water-course of some deep
glen. Nothing can be better calculated to awaken thoughts
of robbers and banditti than some of these wild mountain
passes, and no place could be better calculated to shield the
assassin in his deeds of blood. A dense tangled growth of
dwarf-oak, hawthorn and rock-rose crowd close upon the
pathway, and the jagged rocks lend their aid to increase the
security of these lurking places.
About 12 o'clock we were on the look-out for the city of our
destination. Passing down a long defile into a deep valley, we
flattered ourselves we should catch a glimpse of the wished for
place as we ascended. Up the opposite ascent we slowly and
wearily toiled. "We thought we had gained the summit, and
strained our eyes for a glimpse of Zion and Olivet. Still there
was another hight beyond. Up, and up, and up we went. At
last we reached the summit, and looking far ahead, the distant
mountains of Moab rose first upon our view; then the deep
valley of the Jordan and the Dead Sea; a little nearer, and the
minarets first, then the domes, and the houses, and the massive
walls rose up before us. Involuntarily we exclaimed : " The
JERUSALEM WITH ITS WALLS AS SEEN FROM THE NORTHWEST.
FIRST SIGHT OF JERUSALEM. 3iî
Holy City! The Holt City!" How appropriate the words ot
Tasso seemed :
" Lo, towered Jerusalem salutes the eye I
A thousand pointing fingers tell the tale ;
'Jerusalem! ' a thousand voices cry,
■ All hail, Jerusalem i ' hill, down and dale
Catch the glad sounds, and shout, ' Jerusalem, all hail 1' "
Mr. Herrick and myself were riding side by side, separated
from the rest of our company. "We stopped our horses, uncov¬
ered our heads, and fixed our deep, earnest gaze upon the sa¬
cred place, fraught with so many hallowed associations—^the
great central point from which has gone forth the influence
that is regenerating the world.
How deep the emotibns, and how inspiring the associations
that came crowding upon us ! The history of three thousand
years seemed compressed into a brief space, and the eye of
memory took them all in at a glance. There was the city of
David, and of David's Lord ; there was Zion, Moriah, Gethse¬
mane, Olivet and Calvary! Our eyes seemed riveted to the
sacred spot. We uncovered our heads in reverence, and lifted
our hearts in grateful thanksgiving to Almighty God, who had
spared us in all the perils of a journey of near seven thousand
miles, and granted us so much of the desire of our hearts. I
believe our feelings were in unison. It was no superstitious or
noisy enthusiasm that moved us. It was a moment of deep,
silent, solemn, reverential awe.
But the first emotions kindled by the sight subsided. On we
went, rapidly nearing the place. Just about 1 o'clock we en¬
tered the Jaffa gate, and our feet stood within the walls of " The
City of the Great King."
34
the holy land.
CHAPTER II.
Our Home in Jerusalem—A Glance at the Cití—Sabtcb
op its History.
"We entered Jerusalem on the 2l8t of March. The accom¬
modation for travelers in the way of public houses is quite lim¬
ited and expensive. The Mediterranean hotel is the principal
one, at two dollars and fifty cents a day. A Christian Jew
keeps a sort of boarding-house—"Traveler's Rest"—where a
comfortable home can be found at one dollar and twenty-five
cents a day. There is also a German Hospice, established in
part for the entertainment of Christian travelers, where a lim¬
ited number, usually not more than six or eight at a time, can
find agreeable quarters, at three dollars and fifty cents a week.
Hundreds of the poor pilgrims of the different branches of the
church are entertained gratuitously in the different convents
of the city. In consequence of the previous acquaintance of
one of our company with a monk of the Franciscan convent,
and who had invited him on his visit to Jerusalem to make the
convent his home, we were iqduced first to make application to
that institution.
The door-keeper carried our request to the Father Superior,
who, after some questioning as to who we were, whence we
came, and whac our object in visiting the Holy City was, gave
us an order of admittance.
The first home of these Franciscans, in Jerusalem, was in the
Hospital of St. John. From this they were driven by a change
of masters, when they established themselves on Mount Zion,
near where the Moslem tomb of David now stands. Here they
remained from A D. 1313 to 1561. Another change of mas¬
ters expelled them fronoT this, when they bought the present
CONVENT OF ST. SALVADOR.
35
convent of St. Salvador, where they still continue. The house
for the entertainment of travelers is attached to the convent,
and is called " The New House of the World for the Enter
tainment of Pilgrims." It is open, as the rules declare, for the
reception of pilgrims from all parts of the worjd, without any
distinction of nationality or religion. Visitors, by conforming
to the rules, are allowed to remain thirty days. Ho charge is
made, but presents are not refused. The living is plain, but
plentiful ; the cooking is done by the monks, and servants are
employed to take care of the rooms. The Father Superior is
always an Italian, and the monks are nearly all Italian, and the
Italian language is mostly spoken among them. We were
there during Lent and Easter, and a large number of visitors
were in attendance, mostly Italians and French. Several high
church dignitaries from different parts of Europe were stopping
there, and during ten days of the time about sixty officers of
the French army from Beirut. A portion of the time their
house was full, and from eighty to one hundred dined at their
table.
A aiiANGE AT THE CITY.
Although we were protestants and among strangers, we wert
treated with kindness and attention. Among the monks we
found an Irish priest by the name of Stafford, who seemed
much pleased to find company with whom he could converse in
English. He spent considerable time with us in our rooms,
and went with us several days in our excursions about the city
and country. We obtained much valuable information from
him as to the number and influence of the different religious
sects in Palestine and Jerusalem, and also with regard to the
BO called Holy Places. The monks of this convent appear to
be quite an intelligent and industrious class of persons. They
have, within the walls of their convent, a mill driven by horse¬
power, where they grind all their own grain; they have also
quite an extensive printing establishment, where they manufac¬
ture books for their churches and schools. Other kinds of me¬
chanical labor are also carried on among them.
Here, then, we are, after a long and fatiguing journey, in one
36
THE HOLT LAND.
of the most interesting places in the world. " Our feet stand
within thy gates, O Jerusalem!" What a history this city
has! Jerusalem, "The Abode of Peace." The Greeks called
it Hierosolyma, hence the sacred Solyma. The derivation of
the name has been a subject of much dispute. The Jewish
rabbins have ingeniously reconciled conflicting opinions as fol¬
lows : " The name of the place is Jehovah-Jireh. Abraham
called the name of the place Jireh; Shem called it Shalem.
Saith God: 'K I shall call it Jireh, it will displease Shem the
just; if I shall call it Shgilem, it will displease Abraham the
just. I will, therefore, put the name upon it which was put
upon it by both—Jireh-Shalem '—Jerushalaim—Jerusalem
The Arabs and Turks call it El-Khuds, "the Holy, or Beit-el-
Makhudis," " the Holy House, or House of the Sanctuary."
Once it was the royal residence of Melchisedek, the prince
and priest. Here was Moriah, to which Abraham came on the
third day from Beersheba, when, in the stern resolution of an
unwavering faith, he laid his only son upon the altar, and re¬
ceived him back as one alive from the dead. Here, for many
long years, was the capital of the Hebrew nation; the royal
palace of her kings, and the center of their worship. Hither
the tribes oame up, the tribes of the Lord, to worship in his
holy temple. " In Salem was God's tabernacle, and his dwell¬
ing place in Zion." And here, inspiring thought ! in, subse¬
quent times, a greater than Abraham bound his only and well
beloved son to the altar of the cross ; and here the world wel¬
comed him back from the dead, the blessed harbinger of light,
life, and immortality. What interesting walks we shall
have among these sacred localities ! What impressive lessons
we shall learn as we wander over its hills, and reflect among
its ruins. Contemplate
JERUSALEM AS A BATTLE-FIELD.
As a "Habitation of Peace," how often its history has con
tradicted its name ! What wars have been waged ; what scenes
of carnage and bloodshed have here been enacted! Of what
took place here after Abraham's visit, and prior to the occupa
ti on of the land by the children of Israel, we have no historic
THE KINGDOM GE SOLOMON.
07
•ecords to inform us. What contentions may have arisen
among fierce Canaanitish ttibes, none can now tell. Joshua
found here a stronghold in possession of the Jebusites. Tbey
were a warlike race, and strongly fortified, and no attempt
seems to have been made by him to conquer them. After his
death, the tribe of Judah took Jerusalem, and smote it with
the edge of the sword, and set it on fire. But it seems far from '
haviug been a complete conquest, for we are informed, in an¬
other place, the children of Israel could not drive out the Jebu-
jites inhabiting Jerusalem. The Benjaminites made an attempt.
And also failed. They seem, however, to have possessed some
portions of it, for the Jebusites and Israelites are mentioned as
residing here together. It was not until David had reigned
king in Hebron seven years and six months, that he went up
to Jerusalem to fight against the Jebusites. At this time, so
strongly were they fortified, they defied him with taunts and
insults, and dared him to make the assault. Joab signalized
himself by leading the attack; the Jebusites were expelled and
utterly overthrown. David made Jerusalem the capital of hip
kingdom ; built his palace upon Mount Zion ; removed hither
the ark of the Lord ; built and consecrated an altar on Mount
Moriah in the threshing-floor of Araunáh, the Jebusite, and for
thirty-three years reigned king over Israel and Judah.
Its occupation by David was the commencement of its pros¬
perity. He greatly enlarged and strengthened it. It continued
to increase in population, wealth, power and splendor, and un¬
der Solomon reached the zenith of its glory. Bich tributary
• streams from the surrounding nations poured into it. Africa
contributed her luxuries, and India brought her spices and gold.
The wisdom of its ruler, and the splendor of its court, were the
wonder and astonishment of distant nations, and many, like
the Queen of Sheba, came to witness its glory. What immense
wealth was gathered into this city during this prosperous reign !
The quantity of gold left by David for Solomon to expend upon
the temple, amounted to more than one hundred millions of dol¬
lars. Solomon obtained more than sixteen millions of dollars
in gold in one voyage to Ophir, while silver was so abundant,
"it was not any thing thought of," and the king made it "to
88
THE HOLT LAND.
be m Jerusalem as stones." The reign of Solomon, the build¬
ing of the temple, and the permanent establishment of the
Hebrew worship, was the crowning glory of the nation, and
Jerusalem wore the coronet among the world's sisterhood of
illustrious cities, "With the death of Solomon commenced
ITS DECLINE.
The first reverse was the revolt under Rehoboam. Ten of
the tribes rebelled. Judah and Benjamim only remained in
their allegiance, and Jerusgilem was the capital of but a small
portion of the national territory. Soon after, Jeroboam insti¬
tuted the idolatrous worship of the golden calves at Bethel,
and Dan and the ten tribes ceased to go up to Zion to worship
in the House of the Lord.
While Rehoboam was yet king, nine hundred and seventy-
three years B. 0., Shishak, king of Egypt, came up against
Jerusalem, conquered and pillaged it, and carried away with
him immense quantities of gold and silver, robbing even the
sanctuary of God of its gold and silver vessels. The record of
this conquest is preserved among the sculptured tablets of Up¬
per Egypt. The chiseled walls of the ruins of Xarnack tell
the same story that the biblical student may read in the twelfth
chapter of the 2d book of Chronicles; another striking evi¬
dence of the manner in which God has left his Handwriting
upon the monuments of heathen nations to corroborate the
truth of his written word ! Three thousand years of the craft
of designing men, and of the efforts of unbelievers, have not
been able to destroy the one, nor the lapse of time and the rav¬
ages of war to deface the other. They are both God's wit¬
nesses, and by him have been wonderfully preserved 1
The contending tribes of Israel and Judah were often at wai
with each other, and Jerusalem was often the scene of strife.
Eight hundred and twenty-six years B. C., Jehoash, king of Is-
lael, conquered Jerusalem, broke down a large portion of the
wall, demolished the palace of Amaziah, and plundered tb«
temple of God. The city continued to pass through a variety
of fortunes. Sometimes the temple of God was honored, and
his altars burned with holy sacrifices, and the incense of an
JERUSALEM A BATTLE-FIELD 3S
adoring people ascended from its courts; at other times idola¬
trous rulers deiiled it with their polluting sacrifices. At last,
the cup of their iniquity was full. Then came
THE GREAT CAPTIVITY.
About six hundred years B. C., and a little more than four
hundred and fifty years after David erected his palace upon
Mount Zion, Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, laid siege to
Jerusalem. Three years the city resisted all the efforts of this
powerful monarch to reduce it to submission. But resistance
was in vain—^the invading army triumphed. The walls were
razed to the ground—^the costly and magnificent temple, and
the splendid palaces of the city were burned with fire. Jehoi-
achim, with all his kindred and courtiers, were taken prisoners.
The conquering king returned in triumph to Babylon, taking
with him an immense amount of plunder, including ten thous¬
and able men of the city, many thousands from the surround¬
ing country, together with the vessels of gold and costly furni¬
ture Solomon had made for the temple. The horrors of this
siege, and the massacre that followed, are beyond description.
The brutal soldiery had no compassion on young men or maid¬
ens, old men or infants. 0, Jerusalem ! what terrible scenes of
plunder and carnage thou hast witnessed ! But the worst has
not yet been told.
THE GRECIAN INVASION.
The long, tedious captivity of seventy years passed. God
provided for the return of a punished and penitent people to
their former home. Jerusalem was re-built ; the beautiful tem¬
ple again arose from its ruins. When its foundations were laid,
the people, Ezra informs us, shouted with joy, while some of
the old Levites, who had seen the glory of the first temple,
wept with a loud voice. The prophecies that foretold this cap¬
tivity, the exact time of its continuance, and the manner of
the restoration, are among the most remarkable portions of the
revelation of God. They are the unmistakable imprint of the
hand of the Almighty in the Written Record he has given us.
After the return from the captivity, Jerusalem, for a series
26
40
rTHÄ HOLY LAND.
of years, seems to have enjoyed rest and quiet. Three hundred
and thirty-five years B. C., Alexander, the Macedonian, com¬
mences his career and extends his conquests over the Persian
empire. Before leaving home, in the visions of the night, a
man, curiously and strangely attired, stands before him. Words
of encouragement seem to fall upon the ear of Alexander, and
the vision assures him that his expedition to the East shall he
successful. Bominion passes from the Persians to the Greeks,
Jerusalem is too important a city to be left out of the pro¬
gramme, and Alexander must go up and punish them for their
fidelity to the Persians. Again a hostile army is encamped
against Jerusalem. Must former scenes of murder and pillage
be re-enacted? Jaddua, the high-priest, arrays himself in his
costly sacerdotal vestments, and at the head of a train of priests,
with the emblems of peace in their hands, marches out to meet
the dreaded conquerer. Alexander regards them, at first, with
stern and angry menace. But no sooner has his eye caught a
glimpse of this strange figure at the head of the procession,
than astonishment takes the place of anger and revenge. " The
very figure I saw in my dream in Macedonia. "What does it
mean ? " The mission is received with reverence and respect
He returns with them to the city—visits their temple and joins
with them in their sacrifices—reads from their sacred books the
prophecy of Daniel, that a Grecian should arise and overthrow
the Persian empire. Instead of conquests and slaughter, he
confers upon them important privileges and immunities, and
retires with his army froin their city and country. "What hand
but the Hand of God could have guided the pen of Daniel,
when, in his far off" captivity, he wrote Persian, Grecian and
Jewish history many years before the events transpired !
THE BOMAN OCCUPATION.
The triumph of the Macedonian conqueror "vras of short du¬
ration. The reign of the Ptolemies in Egypt was another im¬
portant era in the history of Palestine. For more than sixty
years, under their sovereignty, Jerusalem had rest. After that,
in the wars between Seleucus, son of Antiochus, and the Ptole¬
mies, the province of Judea and the adjoining country became
À. FIELD OF SLAUGHTER. él
the theatre of many bloody contests. About three hundred
years B. C., the Assyrian monarch gained the ascendancy, and
not only the peace, but the very existence of the Jewish nation
seemed to be involved. One hundred and fifty years B. C.,
Epiphanes plundered Jerusalem, sacrificed a swine upon the
holy altar of their temple, and with its filth polluted the
whole building. Two years after, he sent his general, Apollo¬
nius, to complete the destruction. He selected the Sabbath
day, the sanctity of which he knew the Jews would not violate,
even by fighting in self-defense. His soldiers, like demons in¬
carnate, went through the streets slaughtering all they met.
The women and children were spared to bé sold as slaves. The
houses were pillaged, the city walls laid prostrate, every street
and lane, and even the courts of the holy temple, flowed with
blood. Jerusalem was left desolate—sacrifices and oblations
ceased—the sacred temple of the living God was dedicated to
Jupiter Olympius, and the holy altar of the Deity polluted by
the sacrifices of idols. ^
We cannot follow Jerusalem in its fortunes under the reign
of the Maccabees. The Roman Eagle at last gained the ascend¬
ant. Thirty-four years B. C., the last prince of the Asmonean
line was murdered by the Roman prefect of Syria, and Herod
the Great made king of the Jews. Then came a season of
tranquility. The nations of the world had rest. The obla¬
tions upon the altars of Moloch ceased, and the temple of 'Ja¬
nus was shut. Angelic messengers announced the appearance
of the Prince of Peace, and Christ, the Redeemer and Savior,
walked the streets of Jerusalem. But he walked among the
tombs of murdered kings, over the wreck and ruin of buried
palaces, and along the avenues that had again and again
streamed with blood.
MASSACRE UNDER TITUS.
City of Zion ! is not the measure of thine iniquity, and the
cup of thy suffering yet full? See, on yonder mount.of Olives
that Savior sits. His eye is fixed upon the city, while the long
diawn sigh and the gathering tear indicate the deep emotions
of his heart, as with prophetic ken he penetrates the future.
THE HOLY LAND.
"0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, an(i
stonest them that are sent unto thee ; how often would I have
gathered thy children together as a hen gathereth her brood
under her wing, but ye would not. Xour house is left unto
you desolate. Thy children shall perish within thee; thy walls
shall be laid even with the ground, and of thy boasted temple
not one stone shall be left upon anoth^." Fifty years did not
pass away before this fearful prediction was fulfilled.
lender Herod the city had been raised to a bight of wealth
and prosperity it had not before enjoyed since its glory under
Solomon. The place was enlarged, the streets improved, and the
temple re-built and adorned, until, in many things, it. even ex¬
ceeded the magnificence of the one built by Solomon. But the
bight of greatness to which it was raised, only added darkness
and depth to the pit of its ruin. The horrors of the siege un¬
der Titus have often been portrayed, and are familiar to almost
every reader. Such fearful suffierings, such indiscriminate
slaughter, such awful scenes of carnage and cruelty, the histo¬
rian has seldom been called upon to record. At last the slaugh¬
ter ceased for the want of subjects. Titus saved a part of the
western wall and three of its towers, as monuments to show
posterity the great strength of the city he had conquered. It
is said that the enormous number of one million one hundred
thousand Jews perished in the siege and massacre, and nearly
one hundred thousand more were taken prisoners. The walls,
towers and fortifications, except the portion before mentioned,
were utterly demolished, the holy temple was burned, and of all
its glory a mass of ruins only remained. What terrible reverses
for one single city ! and yet we have not seen the end.
JERUSALEM WAS RE-BUILT.
Many Jews clung to the ruins, unwilling to abandon the
homes and tombs of theit ancestors. In the twentieth year of
the Emperor Adrian an attempt was made to restore the ruined
city. Jupiter was made the patron god of the place; statues
of heathen deities were set up in the most holy places ; the an¬
cient capital of Israel, where God had manifested his glory, was
transformed into a pagan city, and upon the very spot where
WAES or THE ÜETJSADEKS.
43
Christ had died, the altars of heathen deities polluted the
ground. Then came the long and bloody conflicts between pa¬
ganism and Christianity. Bloody persecutions were waged as
one or the other triumphed. At last the religion of the cross
was established, and Jerusalem became a Christian Patriarchite.
Churches and monasteries were built, holy places were honored
and consecrated, and niultitudes of pilgrims began to flock to
these Christian shrines. Then came
THE MOHAMMEDAH CONQUEST,
Followed by the wars of the Crusaders. In A. D. 636, the
Moslem troops under the Calif Oniar laid siege to Jerusalem ;
and now on this battle-field, where all nations and languages
had alternately contended for the mastery, Mohammedans and
Christians engaged in fierce and deadly strife, and scenes
of former carnage were again renewed. The Moslem tri¬
umphed, the religion of the false Prophet gained the ascendant,
and on the very site of the ancient temple they built their
mosque, and from the summit of Moriah the muezzin's call to
prayer was heard. _ Then followed long years of strife. Bloody
conflicts were waged, and terrible massacres succeeded each
other. In 1050, Jerusalem came under the rule of the Turks.
The situation of the Christians became deplorable. Both pil¬
grims and residents were subjected to terrible indignities and
cruelties. Peter the Hermit, having witnessed these atrocities,
returned to Rome to tell the harrowing tale. All Christian
Europe was aroused. Legions of valiant knights and soldiers
precipitated themselves upon western Asia. In 1099, they cap¬
tured Jerusalem, and re-built the church of the Holy Sepulchre.
They held the city eighty-eight years, when it was re-captured
by Saladin, who, fearing the Christians would again obtain
the rule, pulled down nearly all the walls, and for ten
years they remained unbuilt. In 1229, Jerusalem was again
delivered into the hands of the Crusaders. . They attempted a
few years after to re-build the walls, when a Moslem prince
again attacked and captured the city. Four years after, the
Christians again obtained possession of it, but they held it only
a few months. In 1248, they were driven out for the last time,
44 the holt land.
and the crescent still triumphs. The proud Turk holds do¬
minion, and the Mussulman dictates terms of citizenship to the
follower of the cross. But thanks to the milder reign of the
toleration that characterizes the present day, these hitherto
^contending powers do all now dwell here in comparative peace.
The lion now lies down with the lamb ; the muezzin's call to
prayer, as it falls upon the ear of the faithful, mingles with the
music of the Cathedral bell, that reminds the Christian of his
Savior, and the Jew worships the God of his fathers, and none
molest him.
We have introduced this brief synopsis of the city's history,
that the reader may see upon what strange ground we are now
standing! What scenes of thrilling interest have here trans¬
pired ! How often the clarion voice of war has awakened the
echo of these mountains ! Here, beneath our very feet, ruins
have been piled upon ruins, and palaces above palaces have
gone to decay; while on the very soil upon which we tread, the
slaughtered heaps in weltering ranks have lain, and the dust
of many nations has been blended in strange and promiscuous
confusion.
WALKS ABOUT THE CITY.
And now to which of these interesting localities shall we
first turn our attention? Where there is so much to he seen,
where every foot of ground has its lessons, every hill-side
mound and valley has been the scene of some thrilling event,
or hallowed by some sacred association, we shall scarcely have
time to linger over them all. Let me lead you, then, to that lo¬
cality, the name of which has become so intimately interwoven
with all the hallowed remembrances of both Jew and Chris¬
tian, and that has given a name to the anticipated home of our
future inheritance and rest. Let us stand upon Mount Zion.
A few minutes' walk from our convent, and we are upon its
very summit. This is the mount upon which the original city
was built. Here was the stronghold of the Jebusites, captured
by David. Here was the palace of Israel's kings, and here the
city that became the praise of the whole earth. This was
God's hill, in which he delighted to dwell. Of this place Da-vid
A WALK ABOUT ZION
45
apeaks: "Walk about Zion, and go round about her; tell the
towers thereof; mark ye well her bulwarks, and consider her
palaces." "Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth
1H Mount Zion." Alas, how changed ! How fallen!
Zion occupies the whole southwestern section of the ancient
Bite of Jerusalem, and was the largest of the mounts over which
the city subsequently spread. On the west and south it has the
valley of Hinnom. From this valley the sides anciently rose
up in steep and rocky precipices. From the repeated destruc¬
tions of the city, the ruins, in immense piles, have been tumbled
into these valleys, so as to cover up, in many places, the precip¬
itous ledges of rocks. The southern brow of Zion is very bold
and prominent. The bight of the hill above the valley at the
southwest corner of the city is one hundred and fifty feet;
above the valley of Jehoshaphat, on the south, three hundred
feet.
Standing here on the bights of Zion, turning your face to the
east, and looking along down the slope, you have before you
the Tyropean valley, now so filled up with the accumulation
of centuries of ruins, as scarcely to have the appearance of a
valley. As an evidence of the accumulation of this mass of
ruins', upon the very hill-top where we are now standing, whep,
some years since, the English church was built, they penetrated
between forty and fifty feet of rubbish before they found the
original soil. If such has been the accumulation upon the hill,
what must it be in the valleys below I Looking beyond this
valley and a little to the northward, the eye rests upon Mount
Moriah, where the temple of Solomon once stood, its summit
now crowned with a costly Moslem mosque. Beyond that still,
to the east, is the deep valley of Jehoshaphat, with the brook
Kidron and the Garden of Gethsemane ; and beyond all these,
rises the beautiful summit of the Mount of Olives. To the
left, or northward, of wherd you stand, is Akra, and east of it,
Bezetha, two other hills over which the city originai.y spread,
and a part of which it still covers. Such is a hasty view ot the
position of the prominent localities of the city in which we
now stand.
Where the ancient walls stood, it is now impossible to tell
46
THE HOLT LAND.
Ruin has been piled on ruin, and destruction, as we have seei»,
has followed destruction. The ancient city, according to Jose-
phus, where it was not considered impregnable on account of it«
deep ravines, was fortified by three walls. These walls, how¬
ever, were built at difierent periods to inclose different portions
of the city. The original city, as we have before said, covered
this Mount Zion. As the city was enlarged, a wall was built
around the portion that extended over Akra, and another
aronnd Bezetha. The city is now much smaller than in the
days of Christ, but it is still encompassed by a very strong walL
This wall is just about two and a half miles in circumference,
and very strongly built. A variety of different stones are
worked into it, indicating that the materials were quarried and
chiseled in difierent ages of the world. Its average hight is
about forty feet, its thickness from twelve to fifteen feet; in
some places, owing to the inequalities of the surface of the
ground, it is much higher than in others ; the highest places
being full seventy feet, while the lowest places are thirty to
thirty-five feet. The present walls are supposed to have been
built about 1542, occupying very nearly the same lines as those
built by Hadrian. But probably every siege and pillage of the
city has changed some portions of the walls.
CASTLE or DAVID.
Just at the right, as you enter Jaffa gate, is a celebrated
tower, remarkable for its great strength and venerable antiqui¬
ty. It is called the tower of Hippicus, sometimes the " Towei
of David," and by Mussulmen, the Castle of David. The
lower part of it is built of massive stones, from nine to thirteen
feet in length, and some of them more t\jan four feet thick.
These stones are cut with a deep beviel round the edges, in¬
dicating their Jewish origin. The hight of this tower, above
the present level of the fosse, is forty feet. It is built solid, and
recent excavations show that for a considerable hight above thê
foundation, it is formed of the natural rock, hewn into shape
and faced with stones. That this tower stood here in the days of
Josephus, there is little doubt, and it is one of the towers saved
ùy Titwb, as a memorial of the almost impregnable strength of
GOLDKN GATS, JBaiTBikliBU.
BUILDINGS OP THE CITY. 45
4
tùe city he had captured. Some date its origin back even to
the times of David. It seems strange to be looking upon struc¬
tures of such wonderful antiquity, and examining stones that
might have been cut by the workmen of David or Solomon
three thousand years ago. This tower or citadel has a dirty,
neglected appearance, and is mounted by two or three pieces
of antique looking ordnance, occasionally used in firing salutes.
If you have a written order from the military commander of
the city, you can ascend the tower. From the top yoU have a
commanding view of the city, the best in fact that any position
within the walls afibrds. From this elevation let us take a look
at the different quarters of the city.
THE CHRISTIAN QUARTERS.
Take the accompanying plan of the city, and you will see first
the parts marked A and B, covering portions of Zion and Akra.
Here dwell the Christian population of the city, for though we
have assigned a separate quarter to the Armenians, they may
all be included in the Ch:^tian category, the Latins, or Eoman
Catholics, and the Greeks having also their separate portions.
To these may be added Georgians, Copts, Syrians, Protestants,
and many other sects. There is here one of the most mixed
and multifarious populations upon the face of the globe ; there
is scarcely a sect, tribe or language but has its representative in
Jerusalem.
Among the prominent buildings and establishments located
in this part of the city, belonging to the Armenians, may be
enumerated the Armenian Convent, one of the largest estab¬
lishments in the city; the Armenian Church of St James, a
fine building, containing many gorgeous decorations of pic¬
tures and ornaments ; the Patriarchal Palace, a new and elegant
building; the Armenian Hospitals; the Church of St. Thomas;
Church of St. James the Less.
In this portion of the city may also be found the Gheek
Convent of St. George; Syrian Convent and Church of St. Mark,
Church of the Crusaders; a Beading-room for Polish Jews;
Christes Church, or the Anglican Cathedral, to which is at¬
tached a large parcel of ground, containing gardens, various
5C
THE HOLT LAND.
offices, etc., the property of the London. Jews' Society; a large
and well conducted English Hospital; a Prussian Hospice, with
a necessary supply of nurses and attendants; the Great Church
of the Holy Sepulchre; Church and Convent of Gethsemane; Church
and Convenl of St. John the Eorerunner; the Convent of ConMan-
tine; near this another Greek Church, a Greek Convent, Greek
Nunnery, Archimandrites Pesidence, Nunnery and Alms-house of
St. Basil. In other portions of this quarter we find the Convent
of St. Theodore; Church of the Schismatics; Russian Consulate;
various school buildings; a Copts Convent, and near it a French
Hospital; Franciscan Convent, and various smaller establish¬
ments too numerous to mention.
In the Jews' quarter, marked C, are several buildings of note,
synagogues, schools, dispensaries, etc.; while the Mohammedan
quarter, marked D, is distinguished by the prominent city offi¬
ces, Pasha's establishment, residence of the Military Governor,
numerous mosques, residence of the Cadi, or Chief Justice,
soldiers' barracks, Turkish hospital, several large bathing estab¬
lishments, etc.
The Greek and Latin churches are by far the most numerous
of any of the Christian sects in Jerusalem. Dr. Barclay makes
the following estimate of their numbers :
Greek Church—1 Patriarch; 1 Archimandrite; 6 Bishops;
150 Prieats ; 90 Nuns ; 100 boys in training for the Priesthood ;
1 Theological, and 3 Common Schools; 12 Convents, with 12
Churches attached; 1 Dispensary, with Physician and assist
ants. Total of membership, 2,250.
The Latins—1 Patriarch; 100 Priests ; 10 Nuns; 2 Churches;
2 Convents; 2 Hospitals, with male and female Physicians; 1
Alms-house; 1 House of Hospitality ; 1 Printing establishment;
1 Theological Seminary ; 2 Common Schools. Total of mem¬
bers, 1,350.
The Armenians, with two convents and churches, numbei
464 ; other smaller sects, with 4 convents and several churches,
number in all 204; Protestants - about 250, making the Chris¬
tian population a little more than 4,500.
All these sects, including also the Nestorians and Maronites,
have chapels in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the great
RELIGIOrS SECTS.
51
center of interest and attraction. The Latins and Greeks have
also several thousand members in their various convents near
the city, principally Arabs. Many of these establishments are
richly endowed, and the numerous offerings of the faithful en¬
able them to deck their churches, chapels and altars with a
gaudy display of wealth.
The same writer we have quoted above gives us a particular
account of the Protestant missions in Jerusalem. The most
efficient and best sustained of these is the " English Episcopal
Society for the Jews." Then there is the " Church Missionary
Society," and a " Lutheran Evangelical Department ;" these all
co-operate together. The American Christian Mission is for
the present, I believe, suspended. The English Church Mission
is well endowed and sustained. They have a splendid church
edifice, now ca,lled "The Church of St. James," which, together
with the consular residence attached, cost several hundred
thousand doUars. The efforts of the Protestant missions in Je¬
rusalem have not been attended by any great results. There are
80 many obstacles in the way of these devoted Christian labor¬
ers, such an amount of prejudice and bitter opposition, such
strong counteracting influences from the education, habits and
associations of the people, progress must necessarily be very
slow. Let us now turn and look at
THE JEWISH QUABTEB.
This, on our plan of the city, is marked C, and lies along the
east of Zion, and between that and Mount Moriah. Alas,- son
of Abraham, how heavily the curse has settled upon thee !
The number of Jews in Jerusalem it is difficult to tell, as no
regular census of the inhabitants of the city is taken. The
best informed estimate the number from six thousand to eight
thousand. Of these there are two great sects. The Sephirdim
are all of Spanish origin. Their language is a cörrupt Spanish,
very few of them speaking Arabic. Though subjects of the
Sultan, they are allowed to live under their own rabbinical
laws. Theii: chief rabbi is called "the Head in Zion," and
bis principal interpreter has a seat in the city council. Many
b2 THE HOLY LAND.
among them are very poor, and they are subjected to great
privations.
The Askenazim are of German and Polish origin. These are
all foreigners, and are under the government of the consular
agents of their respective countries. They are said to be a
worthless, indolent class of people, sustained principally from
contributions from the Jews of Europe. From this source, it
is said, each person among them, rich and poor, young and old,
receives between seven and eight dollars annually. The efiect
of these charitable donations is to make those here more in
dolent, and to attract annually an increasing number of pau
pers to the place. Bad as their physical condition is, those best
acquainted with them think their mental and moral condition
still worse. " It is no wonder," says Dr. Barclay, " that these
down-trodden out-casts of Israel are poor, illiterate and bigoted,
for they are almost entirely disfranchised and constantly mal¬
treated, not only by their Turkish masters, but by those styling
themselves Christians and philanthropists. Even in this year
of grace, 1857, it would cost any Jew in Jerusalem his life to
venture into the so-called Church of the Holy Sepulchre, oi
within even what was once the outer court of his beloved
Temple!"
The same writer also says : " The present condition of the
Jews in Jerusalem is precisely what it is represented to have
been by Hanani, when !N"ehemiah attempted its restoration.
' The remnant that are, left of the captivity there in the prov¬
ince are in great affliction and reproach,' and their case is well
calculated to produce upon us the same effect it did upon the
pious old Reformer, when he sat down, mourned and wept cer
tain days, and fasted and prayed before the God of heaven !
But, alas ! how few there are that sigh and cry for all the abom¬
inations that be done in the midst thereof! Who shall have
pity on thee, 0, Jerusalem? or who shall bemoan thee? or who
shall go aside to ask how doest thou?"
MOHAMMEDAN QUABTEB.
How turn and cast your eye over the northeastern portion
ot the city, marked D. Here the followers of the Prophet con-
CONSTRUCTION OP THE HOUSES. 53
gregate. Here the lordly Turk and the servile Arab find a
home. The Mohammedans probably number some four to five
thousand, and are mostly natives of Syria. The officers and
soldiers are mostly Turkish foreigners. They have, within the
walls and near by, eleven - mosques. The old temple area on
Moriah, called the Haram, is their most holy place; a strict
guard is kept around it to prevent the intrusion of infidels, and
a large number of derwishees connected with it live in idleness
on its ample revenues.
N'ow here we have stood on this old Castle of David, till the
sun is settling behind yonder hills of Judah, and night is rapid¬
ly closing upon us. "We must get back to our convent home
before dark, for Jerusalem is a dreary place in the night. The
streets are narrow and very roughly paved. The houses are
mostly built of stone—a kind of cream-colored limestone—two,
and often three stories high. The fronts are generally plain,
the roofs fiat and covered with a hard cement, and often sur¬
mounted by a dome, and surrounded by a balustrade. There
are 00 very few trees in Palestine, all kinds of wood is very ex¬
pensive and is seldom used in their buildings, except for case¬
ments to the doors and windows. The floors are generally of
cement or stone, and the roofs of cement or tiles. This scarci¬
ty of timber gives rise to the construction of numerous arches,
crypts, vaults and domes in the erection of their buildings.
The dwelling apartments are generally in the upper stories, the
lower ones, as in Cairo, are mostly occupied as lumber-rooms,
stables and receptacles for rubbish of all kinds, and where vari¬
ous tribes of vermin, especially fleas, multiply in countless
swarms. There are no gas-lights to cheer the narrow thorough¬
fares; the houses seldom have windows next the streets; where
there are any, if they are large enough to admit a thief, they
are grated with iron like a prison. It is quite recently that
window glass has been introduced into a few houses of the
better class. The numerous shops and bazars are all closed at
nightfall, and the law enjoins the police to arrest any one found
on the streets after dark, unless he carries a lantern. Few peo¬
ple are out in the evening ; all business seems to be suspended,
Mjid darkness envelops the city.
o4 the holy land.
Here we are at the gate of our " Pilgrims' Home." Supper
18 not quite ready, and the last rays of the departing sun are
lingering upon the top of Olivet; let us go up a few minutes
upon the house-top. The cemented roof is as clean as a house
floor, and inclining only at a slight angle to allow the water to
run off. A parapet about breast high encircles it, to prevent all
danger of falling. This is an ancient practice, and so import¬
ant for safety a special law concerning it was given to the an^
cint Israelites. " When thou buildest a new house, then thou
shalt make a battlement for thy roof, that thou bring not blood
upon thine house if any man fall from thence." Heut. xxii 8.
These flat roofs are very convenient, and are used for a greal
variety of jhirposes. Here the stalks of flax are often spread,
to undergo the process of rotting, and here the dressed flax is
often laid to be bleached. It was in this way that Eahab con¬
cealed the spices Joshua sent to Jericho ; she "brought them
up to the roof of the house, and hid them with the stalks of
flax which she had laid in order upon the roof." Here they
stretch their lines and hang their clothes to dry; here they
come with their neighbors to hold social converse ; and here is
often found a place for retirement and prayer. Of this we
have an illustration now before us, for there on yonder side of
the roof is a priest with his Bible in his hand, walking leisurely
back and forth, engaged in devout meditation, reminding one
of Peter when he went upon the house-top to pray. Here, too,
the people frequently, in the heat of summer, come up to sleep,
sometimes spreading their couch in the open air, sometimes
èrecting small booths of green boughs, an allusion to which is
found in Hehemiah viii. 9. These booths I often saw upon the
tops of the houses. What a pleasant place of resort this house¬
top will be during our stay in the city. What a delightful
prospect we shall have from it! Here we can look out upon
Zion, Calvary, Gethsemane and Olivet. How we shall delight
to come up and spend the twilight hourSj and hold communion
with Him who has hallowed these places, and made them sacred
by the intimacy of his associations with them !
And now we have seen the city as it is, and are prepared to
continue our walks about it. What a strange interest it has to
THINGS IN. JEEUSALEM.
55
all classes of persona ! The Mohammedan esteems it ; to him
it is for sanctity the third city of the world—Medina and Moc¬
ea only are placed before it. To the Jew and the Christian it
stands unrivaled; and one would think from the eagerness with
which all religions congregate here, il was this Jerusalem, and
not the one that is above, that, as Paul says, is the mother of us
all. But there is our bell. Let us seek refreshment of food
and rest. To-morrow we will have a ramble among the places
most intimately connected with the history of our Savior.
SPARROWS.
Sleep, with gentle hand and strange, soothing skill, has re¬
lieved the weariness of our toil, and the jocund morning in¬
vites us to renew our rambles. Upon stepping from my room,
one of the first things that attracted my attention was the
countless multitude of sparrows that filled the air with the
harsh music of their incessant chirping. They gather upon
the house-tops, and find a home in the crevices of the walls,
and impudently flutter about the doors and windows. I sup¬
pose they were just as numerous in the days of the Savior,,
when he says that five of them were sold for two farthings ;
yet insignificant and worthless as they comparatively were,
God took care of them, and would much more take care of hk
children. Though they are a lively, cheerful race of birds, oc¬
casionally you may see one that has lost his mate. He sits
perched alone upon some part of the building, and in mournful
notes, makes known his sad bereavement. This, I suppose, is
where David got his striking illustration of his sorrow: "I
watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house-top.'*
27
66
THE HOLY LAND.
CHAPTER III.
Rambles in Jerusalem—Mount Zion—Valley op Hinnom--
Hills and Tombs.
I found in the city two clergymen from Hew York city, Rev.
Mr. Hewman and Rev. Mr. "Williams, in company with two
English clergymen, and we were soon after joined by six other
clergymen from England and Scotland. Our association with
these gentlemen added very much to the interest of our excur¬
sions about the city. At this time Dr. Barclay also arrived in
the city from Jaffa. I presented my letter of introduction, and
was cordially received by the Doctor and. his-excellent lady,
who accompanied him. It was, indeed, a great and unexpected
privilege to have the advice and instruction of one so intimate¬
ly acquainted with the Holy City, and by whom every nook
and corner of it had been explored. I wish here publicly to
express my acknowledgments for the assistance received from
him while in the city, and my indebtedness for the information
I have derived from his elaborate book—"The City of the Great
King." The Doctor not being specially engaged, kindly offered
to honor our draft for any amount of time we might demand,
in conducting us to the interesting localities about the city.
What better cicerone could we wish for? His offer was so cor¬
dially and cheerfully made, as to leave no doubt of its sinceri¬
ty, and we did not hesitate to avail ourselves of the privilege.
So the reader will understand that in most of the piaces to
\/hich we are now about to take him, we had the advantage of
the information that one who had spent twenty years in Jeru¬
salem and its vicinity was able to impart. With Dr. Barclay,
then, for a guide and interpreter, let us take a walk about Zion.
STEEKTS Ain? CONVEYANCES. 57
Wûat narrow, crookad, miserable streets for so large a city !
The houses are not numbered, and it is only recently that a few
of the principal streets have received names. These names are
highly suggestive of the days of olden time ; thus we have the
Street of Mount Zion; Street of the Patriarchs ; Street of David, etCi
The average width of these streets is not more than ten feet,
many of them not more than half that breadth, and most of
the public thoroughfares, where the bazars are situated, and a
great part of the business done, and where thousands daily
pass, are not more than twelve tb fifteen feet wide. The main
streets are said to be paved, but this paving is made of stones
of all sizes and shapes carelessly imbedded in. the soil, the sides
raised a foot or so, and a trench left through the middle. How,
you ask, can they manage to do their business in such misera¬
ble thoroughfares? First, they have no carriages to block up
their streets. I did not see a wheeled vehicle while I was in
Jerusalem—no, not so much as a wheel-barrow ! > They use
camels, horses, mules and donkeys. Every thing is carried
upon the backs of animals. Sometimes a huge camel, with a
oack-load of brush, or great packages of hay or grass, will at¬
tempt to pass through these narrow avenues, filling it from side
to side, often creating severe contests for the right of way.
Then, again, comparatively few women are seen in the streets,
and those few adhere to the time-honored customs of dress
that have come down from the days of Sarah and Rachael.
When the modern European fashions are introduced among
the ladies here, and crinoline gains the ascendency, there will
be an end of business in the streets of Jerusalem. Taking the
street of David, a few minutes' walk will bring us to
THE JAFFA GATE.
This the Arabs call Bab el Khalil, " Gate of a Friend"—^tha
ts, Abraham—or the Friend of God. A little to the right, as
you approach this gate, are large heaps of old ruins ; from some
of the mounds the great stones are still protruding, and many
of them are completely covered by the rank grass and weeds
What buildings once covered this ground none can now tell.
What uncounted years may have measured the period of 'vheir
58 THEHOLTLAND.
destruction who can know? Leaving Jafia Gate to the right,
let us pass along the ascending slope, and again we are on
Mount Zion. N'ow take the plan of Jerusalem fôund on page
48, and I will point out to you the localities as we proceed.
Let us ascend the city wall and walk along the top. You see
there is a broad terrace near the top wide enough for two or
three persons to walk abreast, while upon the outside a parapet
rises as high as your head, that will not only prevent your fall¬
ing in that direction, but is also pierced with loop-holes through
which guns can he pointed in case of an attack. At conveni¬
ent distances along the walls towers are erected, and embrasures
constructed, and in these widenings in the walls you will some¬
times find small chambers, now generally in a dirty, neglected
condition, but in times of danger used, I suppose, by the guards,
upon the wall.
How strange it seems to be thus walking along the walls of
this ancient city ! How forcibly we are reminded of the words
of the Psalmist: ""Walk about Zion, and go round about her;
tell the lowers thereof. Mark ye well her bulwarks, consider
her palaces, that ye may tell it to the generations following."
Standing here upon the west wall of the city, you may look
down into the valley of Hinnom, as it comes winding round
from the south. This valley, as it bends away to the westward,
takes the name of Gihon ; and there, just near us, N'o. 6, is
THE LOWER POOL OP OIHON.
The Upper Pool lies higher up the valley, a little above No.
18, This Upper Pool is seven hundred yards from Jafia Gate.
From this pool the course of the valley is southeast for six
hundred and thirty yards to the bend opposite the Jaffa Gate
Here the breadth of the valley is one hundred yards, and its
depth forty-four feet. From this bend it runs nearly south for
a short distance, having Zion on one side and a rocky acclivity
on the other. About two hundred and ninety yards from the
southern bend the arched acqueduct from Solomon's Pools
crosses it; seventy-three yards lower down is the Lower Pool of
Gihon. Near it a path runs across the valley, leading to the
Pethlehem and Hebron road.
POOLS AND EESEKVOIES. Ö9
These two reservoirs are undoubtedly of great antiquity, and
many interesting allusions are made to them, and many inter¬
esting facts connected with them. The Upper Pool is three
hundred feet long, two hundred feet wide, and twenty fee<-
deep; the lower one is six hundred feet long, two hundred and
fifty feet broad, and forty feet deep—immense reservoirs, capa-,
ble of holding water for thousands of people. The Bible has
several notices of these ancient pools. The Prophet Isaiah was
commanded by God to go forth and meet Ahaz " at the end of
the conduit of the Upper Pool, in the highway of the Fuller's
Field." Is. vii. 3. • At the same place Eabshakeh stood when
he delivered the royal message of his imperious master, the
King of Assyria, to the messengers of Hezekiah. The story is
an instructive one, and may be read in the 86th and 37th chap¬
ters of Isaiah.
We are also informed in 2d Chron. xxxii. 30, that Hezekiah
stopped the uppér outflow of the waters of Gihon, and brought
it down to the west side of the city of David (Zion)." In con¬
firmation of this, on the east slope of Zion, near the Greek con¬
vent, and directly behind Hauser's European Hotel, is what is
now called
THE FOUNTAIN OF HEZEKIAH.
I went up on one occasion with my friend Herrick to exam
ine it. It is an immense reservoir, two hundred and forty feet
long and one hundred and forty-four feet wide. The bottom
Î8 formed of the natural rock, leveled and cemented. This res¬
ervoir is now known to be supplied with water by a small aque¬
duct from the Upper Pool of Gihon. There are several other
allusions to Hezekiah's improvements in these water-coursed.
It is said, " he made a pool and conduit and brought water into
the city." "When the King of Assyria came up to besiege Jeru¬
salem, Hezekiah " took counsel with his princes and his migh¬
ty men, to stop the waters of the foutains that were without the
city. So there was gathered much people together who stopped
all the fountains, and the brook that ran through the midst of
the land, saying : Why should the King of Assyria come and
find much water?' What was done with these waters, thj
60
THE HOLY LAND.
course of which was thus stopped or turned? Many evidencea
conspire to show that these waters were brought by subterra¬
nean passages into the city. In confirmation of this, it is said,
that when excavations were made for the foundations of the
English church, more than twenty feet below the surface the
workmen came upon a vaulted chamber of fine masonry in a
perfect state, resting upon a foundation of rock. Within it
were steps leading down to a solid mass of stone-work covering
an immense conduit, partly hewn out of the solid rock, and
partly built with even courses of masonry, and lined and ce¬
mented an inch thick. The architect traced it eastward more
than two hundred feet. Apertures opened into it at intervals
from above, and the bottom was so nearly level that water
would always lie upon it to such a depth as to enable people to
draw with a bucket and line. May not this, says the narrator,
be the conduit by which Hezekiah brought the \eater of the
fountain of Gihon to the west side of the city of David ? But we
must leave these pools. It seems strange to he loitering about
these places, and pondering over these events in which Isaiah
and Hezekiah took a part nearly two thousand five hundred
years ago. Let us now pass along westward towards Zion Gate.
We may now notice another remarkable
rULriLLMENT OV PBOPHECT.
Several portions of the city here have not only been utterly
destroyed, but have not been rebuilt. Here, just where we are
now walking, and within the walls, are sever^ large patches
of ground upon which the barley and wheat are now growing.
But a few weeks since the plow passed over that ground, and
the seed was scattered upon the furrowed soil; and close by it
are great mounds of ruins covered with vegetation. How open
your Bible and turn to Micah, 8d chapter and 12th verse, and
tell me who taught him more than two thousand years ago to
say: "Therefore shall Zion be plowed as a field, and Jerusa¬
lem shall become heaps, and the mountain of the house as the
high places of the forests ? " Whose Handwriting can you read
in these cultivated fields of Zion ? and who has left there the
impress of his unchanging word ? Before you pass out of the
WALK.S iJS JERUSALEM.
Gl
gate, if you have strong nerves, you may step down the side-
AÎll a little to the east and look into
THB HUTS OT THE LEPBBS.
Anciently, they were not allowed inside the gates, but the
laws of ceremonial uncleanness have passed away, and they are
now allowed to have their quarters inside the inclosure, though
still separated from the other houses by a low wall. You do
not often see any of them inside the city, but you may meet
little squads of them almost any day about Zion and Jaffa
Gates. They never approach very near you, but sit or stand at
a respectful distance, and beg most piteously for alms. They
are still, as in ancient days, considered unclean, and are shunned,
not only for their loathsome appearance, but by many for fear
of the contagion. The most that are now found in the land
are congregated at Jerusalem and îiabulous; a few are found
about other cities, and, in many cases, they are forbidden to
enter within the gates.
One who has drawn his ideas of this horrible disease only
from the Bible, and from the manner in which it was anciently
regarded, feels strange sensations when he first comes in con¬
tact with it. The first I saw of it was among a crowd of beg¬
gars sitting by the road-side near the Jaffa Gate. There were
about a dozen of them together, and as I approached them they
began in strange, piteous cries and wails, a supplication for alms.
They are generally miserably clad, and often frightfully dis¬
torted from the influence of the disease. The disease preys
upon all parts of the system ; sometimes the face is swollen and
misshapen; the eye-brows and eye-lashes have fallen off; ears,
chins and noses are missing; the palate, perhaps, has been eaten
out and the voice is strangely affected. Sometimes the nails
loosen and drop off, and joint after joint of the fingers and toes
dry up and disappear, and all kinds of hideous deformities dis¬
gust the spectator. The disease is hereditary, and strange as it
may seem, these disgusting specimens of humanity intermarry,
and perpetuate their awful and mysterious disease among their
offspring. It is this disease that is made in the word of God a
striking symbol of man's moral leprosy—tjie fearful workings
62
THE HOLY LAND.
of gin in the moral constitution—a disease that none but Goo
can cure.
BUINS OF AN ANCIENT BBTDUE.
While in this part of the city, Dr. Barclay called our atteu-
*tion to the remains of an old bridge or causeway that once
crossed the Tyropean, connecting Mount Zion with Mount Mo-
riah. This ancient structure has almost entirely disappeared,
but on the Moriah side, where it united with the temple wall, a
portion of an arch is still to be seen, sufficient to show the na¬
ture and probable size of the structure. The span of this ru¬
ined arch must have been about forty-one feet. The Doctor
calculates there must have been five of these arches to cross the
valley, and as an immense heft of stone was to be supported,
these arches were of enormous strength. Some of the stones
now seen in the ruins are nearly six feet thick, and from twenty
to twenty-five feet long.
This is the bridge supposed to be mentioned by Josephus, the
construction of which is ascribed to Solomon. The only objec¬
tion that has been raised to this is, that the arch was unknown
in the days of Solomon ; but recent discoveries show conclu¬
sively that the arch and the keystone were as well known in
the days of Solomon as in modern times.
This is also supposed to be the wonderful aseent to the House
of the Lord, that so astonished the Queen of Sheba, when she
came to Jerusalem to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and to see
his mighty works. It seemed strange, indeed, to be standing
upon the ruins of structures that were a thousand years old
when Christ walked .the streets of Jerusalem; to be ran^ng
over the ground where Solomon walked with tbo renowned
queen, who came to him with all the pomp and splendor and
magnificent retinue of an Eastern court, only to be overcome
with a transport of astonishment at the astounding exhibition
of wealth and the impressive displays of wisdom she saw
around her. Surely, the hoary stamp of age is on these ruins,
and they are eloquent with the lessons of the past!
Eeturning to the summit of Zion, and passing out of Zion
Gate, we reached the supposed resting place of David, Israel's
THE TOMB OP DAVID.
C3
kiug, !N"o. 5. The place is a little down the southern slope of
Zion, and is covered by a pile of buildings from which rises a
conspicuous minaret, one of the most imposing objects seen on
this side of the city. This place, in the estimation of its Mo¬
hammedan owners, is one of the most sacred localities in all El
Khuds (the Holy). The first time I undertook to approach it
in company with my friend, a hyena-looking dog chased us
from the premises, and the Christian-hating loungers about the
place, instead of preventing it, we thought hissed him on. To¬
day we have a respectable number in our company, and with
Dr. Barclay to conduct us, shall get admittance to such portions
of the building as Franks are allowed to visit. We first enter
THE CŒNAOULUM,
Or dining-room—a large upper room, so called because it is
said to be the place where Jesus held his last supper with his
disciples, ate with them the passover, and instituted the memo¬
rial feast in remembrance of his bruised and broken body and
fiowing blood. The room is fifty feet long and thirty feet wide—
" he will show you," said the Savior, " a large upper room." That
this room is very ancient none can question, and may, perhaps,
says one, be the same—the site is unquestionably the same—re¬
ferred to by Cyril, Bishop of Jerusalem, in the middle of the
fourth century, as the place in which the apostles were assem¬
bled on the day of Pentecost, when they received the gift of
the Holy Spirit. Epiphanius, towards the close of the same
century, statee that this building, with a few others near it, es¬
caped destruction when Titus overthrew the city.
On this Mount Zion, Christ ate the last supper with his dis
ciples. From that interview he went out with them to go down
into the garden of Gethsemane, from thence to be taken to the
[Jail of Pilate and the Cross of Calvary. On this mount the
Spirit was poured out, and Peter preached on that memorable
occasion, when three thousand converts were added to their
number. Was this the room in which these wonderful events
connected with the infancy of the Redeemer's kingdom trans¬
pired ? It seems scarcely credible, and yet many here believe
it to be so. If so, there was a depth of meaning in those words
64
THE HOLT LAND.
of Ptíter, i 6 be rehearsed the history of the past in that mem¬
orable sermon : " Men and brethren, let me freely speak unto
you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried,
and his sepulchre is with us unto this day." Acts ii. 29.
THE SEPULOHBB.
Beneath this Coenaculum, in the deep, rock-hewn vauit, they
say David's remains were laid. "But is there any certainty," I
hear you ask, "that his tomb is here?" "We know it was cus¬
tomary to have tombs hewn in the rocks, and the royal sepul¬
chres were undoubtedly cut at great expense, and would not be
places likely, soon, if ever, to be destroyed. That David and
other succeeding monarchs were buried on Mount Zion, is a
plainly attested fact in the word of God. His tomb appears to
have been well known in the days of Josephus, for that histo¬
rian says that Solomon buried David with great pomp, and
placed immense treasures along with his body in the tomb.
These, we are informed, remained undisturbed until the time of
Hyrcanus, the son of Simon Maccabeus, who, being besieged
by Antiochus Pius, and wishing to give him money to raise the
siege, opened one room of David's sepulchre aúd took out three
thousand talents. It is said the tomb was again opened and
plundered by Herod the Great, who was disappointed at not
finding more money, and consequently made an attempt to
penetrate as far as the bodies, but, the account continues, " two
of his guards were killed by a flame that burst out upon them,"
and the sacrilegious purpose was abandoned. These tombs be¬
ing known at so late a period, the knowledge of the site would
not be likely to have since been lost.
And now would you like to go down and stand within the
rock-hewn chamber, and look upon the place where the great
monarch and sweet singer found at last a quiet place of re¬
pose ? It would, indeed, repay the labor of a long pilgrimage,
thus to stand in the sepulchre of David ; but alas ! we cannot
go. You can come into these upper rooms, and wander through
these chambers, but the sepulchre beneath, like the Dome of
the Eock, and the Gave of Machpelah, is one of those sacred
places that the Moslem regards with such superstitious awe and
THE TOMB OP DAVID.
65
bigoted reverence, that he has not only placed the hnrrier of ^
rigid law, but loaded muskets and fixed bayonet? oetween it
and the Jew or the Christian, that it may no mot'» be polluted
oy the presence of either. The potent power ¿»f backsheesh
even loses all its magic charms. Stand back, on cannot enter.
It does arouse a little of the vindictive feelirgs of one's nature,
to come thousands of miles to visit the Lomes and tombs of
patriarchs and prophets, and then, when you approach some
consecrated spot, have a liveried soldier thrust his gleaming
bayonet at you, and w£|,rn you oflT, '^mply because he hates the
man that does not love his Prophet.
But has any one ever visited the tomb who could give us a
description of it? Dr. Barclay's daughter is, I believe, the only
Christian, that, for a long series of years, has found admittance
to the holy of holies of this Moslem sanctuary. The story is
too long to repeat here ; the Doctor has given it at length in
his elaborate work, "The City of the Great King." It was
through the connivance of a Moslem lady connected with the
guard of the tomb, and was stealthily and hastily accomplished
one Friday noon, during a season of special prayer at the great
Mosque of Omar, held by order of the Sultan. Disguised in
the costume of a Moslem lady, she was conducted to the sacred
inclosure, and has given us the following description.
" The room is msignlficant in its dimensions, but is famished rerj gorgeously.
The tomb is apparently an immense sarcophagus of rough stone, and is covered
by green satin tapestiy, richly embroidered with gold. To this a piece of black
velvet is attached, with a few inscriptions from the Koran, embroideied also in
gold A satin canopy of red, blue, green and yellow stripes hangs over the tomb,
and another piece of black velvet tapestry, embroidered in sUver, covers a door in
one end of the room, which they said, leads to a cave underneath. Two tall silvei
candlesticks stand before this door, and a little lamp hangs in a window near it.
which is kept constantly buminjg, and whose wick, though saturated with oil—and
I dare say a most nauseous dose—^my devotional companion eagerly swallowed
mattering to herself a prayer with many a genuflection. She then, in addition to
their usual forms of prayer, prostrated herself before the tomb, raised the cover
ing, pressed her forehead to the stone, and then kissed it many times. The ceil¬
ing of the room is vaulted, and the walls covered in blue porcelain, in floral fig¬
ures. Having remained here an hour or more and completed my sketch, we left *
and great was my rejoicing when I found myself once more at home, out of dan¬
ger, and still better, out of my awkward costume."
66
THE HOLY LAND.
"Whether this is the real tomb of David or not may be quen
tioned ; but when we consider the fact that it must have beei'
in this immediate vicinity, was known in the days of the apos¬
tles, was known to Josephus, and was a spot that Jew, Chns-
tian and Mussulman alike have reverenced, it seems hardly
probable the locality would ever have been lost. If this is the
place, then are we indeed standing upon consecrated ground,
and beneath us repose the ashes of one whose royal palace
adorned this hill-top, whose fame brightens the pages of sacred
history, and whose spiritual songs will continue to inspire the
warm devotions of the pious heart through all coming time !
A little to the north of the Tomb of David is pointed out
another small building, which tradition fixes as the spot where
Mary, the mother of Jesus, spent the last years of her life.
Near by, we are also shown
THE PALACE OP OAIPHAB.
This is the reputed place where the council of scribes, elders
and priests met by order of Caiphas, the High-priest, for the
trial of Jesus. Some say this is not the building, but that this
structure was erected at a very early period of the Christian
era on the site of the high-priest's palace. This pile of build¬
ings, now a church and a convent, is owned by the Armenians,
and was once known as the church of St. Salvator. We had
been told there were some curious relics of antiquity here, and
slipping a backsheesh into the hand of an old monk, he opened
the door for us. We were first taken to the altar of the church,
beneath which our devout guide reverently uncovered a large
stone slab set into the wall, a portion ôf the fiat side visible,
which he solemnly assured us—and I have no doubt but he be¬
lieved it—was the veritable stone that covered the tomb of Jesus,
that was removed by the angel, and on which he sat when the
women came to the sepulchre on the morning of the resurrec¬
tion. As that stone has been taken away from the sepulchre,.
and is not known any where else, we had no means of disprov¬
ing the assertion; so passing our hand over the surface, and
casting an earnest, though I confess a somewhat incredulous
look at it, we passed on. We were next taken into a little
THE ARMENIAN CONVENT.
67
room, now highly decorated with pictures and ornaments, and
were graveiy informed that this was the prison in^which Jesus
was confined during the night in which he was arrested and
put on trial for his life. As we were shown another prison in
anotner part of Jerusalem, said to have been used on the same
occasion and for the same purpose, we, of course, had a right
to be skeptical in regard to both of them. But " I understand,"
said I, " you can show us here
THE COOK THAT CREW
W hen Peter denied his Lord." " 0, yes, we can show him,"
said our monkish guide; but I thought I discovered a little
twinkle of humor about his eye struggling for ascendency over
the devout and reverend mien into which, from long habit, his
features had settled. Following him to a side of the room,
he drew aside a curtain that concealed, hanging upon the wall,
the picture of a sorry-looking game-cock. The work had,
most assuredly, been executed by an apprentice hand, and the
plumage looked as if it had been rufl3.ed in a fight and smoothed
in a rain- storm. " Then that is the cock ? " said one of our com¬
pany, somewhat inquiringly. " To be sure it is," said the ex¬
hibitor. " But that is only a picture." " Sure it is a picture
of him ; you did n't expect to see the live rooster, did you ? He
would be a pretty old bird to live to this time." A burst of
laughter from the whole company followed this denouement,
in which our sedate conductor joined with apparently great
satisfaction. Having satisfied our curiosity, with the image of
that "rooster" daguerreotyped upon our minds, we passed on.
This building is also a cemetery of the Armenian Patriarchs.
Deposited in the walls, and beneath the marble slabs of the
floors and the courts, molders the dust of many a once honored
ecclesiastic. What contrasts we meet on this hill of Zion ! From
the monarchs of Israel, the high-priests of the law, and the dig
nitaries of the church, to the miserable lepers in their poverty,
death here has done his work, and on the cold breast of the
silent grave high and low ali|ce repose.
On this portion of Mount Zion are several other cemeteries.
Here is a large Armenian burying-ground. The graves are dis-
es
THE HOLY LAND.
linguished by being a little elevated, and covered by a flat slab
On the slab was generally chiseled the name of the person, ac¬
companied by the emblems of his trade or profession—if a
blacksmith, an anvil and hammer; if a shoe-maker, an awl
nd last, and so on through an almost endless variety of de¬
vices. Here, too, is an English burying-ground, and near by it
is a little plat of ground, recently purchased, surrounded by a
high stone wall, and the entrance secured by a strong gate, con¬
secrated as a burial-place for Americans dying at Jerusalem.
I climbed upon the wall and looked into the inclosure. Only
two or three graves had yet been opened ; a thick mat of grass
covered the ground, and one solitary tree cast its shadow upon
the spot. Just on the opposite side of the valley is an English
mission-house, where one of our countrymen, a Mr. Roberts,
who had been employed as a tract distributor and missionary,
lay sick. His disease was consumption, and there were no hopes
of his recovery. Some of our company visited him occasion¬
ally, read the Bible for him, and prayed with him. "We also
made him a contribution of funds through the American Con¬
sul, as we understood he was in destitute circumstances. Soon
after we left we learned of his death, and a fresh inound has
been added to the little number embraced in the inclosure. It
seemed sad to die so far from one's native land, home and kin¬
dred ; but it was a pleasant thought that even here the sick
could be reached by the sympathy of kind hearts, the dying
hour be cheered, and a secure and quiet, resting-place for the
dead be found. We now passed down the southern acclivity of
Zion into
THE RENOWNED VALLEY OF HINNOM
This is called in the Bible "Valley of the Son of Hinnom, '
and in the Hebrew Ge Hinnom. The Arabs call it Wady Je
henam, which is evidently the Hebrew name transferred to
their language. In this valley, as we proceed, we shall find the
Gehenna and Tophet of scripture. An ancient allusion to this
valhiy is important, as it fixes the boundary line between Judah
and Benjamin. In Joshua it is said : "And the border passed
towards the waters of Enshemesh, and the goings out thereof
VALLEY OF HINNOM.
69
w^ere at En-ßogel"—now the well of Joab at the junction of
the Hinnom and Kedron—" and the border went up by the val¬
ley of the Son of Hinnom unto the south side of the Jebusite ;
the same is Jerusalem; and the border went up to the top of
the mountain that lieth before the valley of Hinnom westward,
which is at the end of the valley of Rephaim (Giants) north
ward." A piece of more careful and minute topography, says
one, than is here given, could scarcely be imagined. So accu¬
rately is this line defined by these natural boundaries, that one
would have no more difficulty in tracing it now than near thir¬
ty-five hundred years ago, when the boundaries of the tribes
were first located. As we came down into the valley turning
eastward, we had upon our right ]S"o. 8,
THE HILL 0Ï EVIL COUNCIL.
It is SO called from a tradition that the residence of Caiphas
was located upon its summit, and that here the chief priests and
scribes assembled together to take council against Jesus. Upon
the top of it are still seen the ruins of some large structure,
supposed to have been a Christian convent. In one corner of
this old ruin is an oratory, or place of prayer, held in great rev¬
erence by About one hundred yards from this
stands a solitary, ill-shapen tree, a large limb bending ov«" and
forming so convenient a place for a gallows, it has obtained the
name of "Judas tree." This hill, or mountain as it might be
called, rises to the bight of about five hundred feet above the
Pool of Siloam, neí^r the lower part of the valley. It was here
that Pompey encamped when he laid siege to Jerusalem about
sixty-three years B. C. Between this hill and the high ridge
to the left of it, passes the road that leads to Bethlehem, Ho 7.
"We now pass along down the valley in an easterly direction
I find in Murray's Guide-Book the following measurements from
p ace to place in the valley. It commences on the west of the
city, ICS upper part resembling a large* shallow basin, in the
center of which, seven hundred yards from the Jaffa Gate, is tlie
Upper Pool or Gihon. From this pool its course is nearly
southeast, six hundred and thirty yards to the bend opposite
Jaffa Gate, where its breadth is about one hundred yards and
70
THE HOLY LAND.
its depth forty-four feet. It now turns south between Ziou on
one side and a rocky acclivity on the other, and,at two hun
dred and ninety yards is crossed by the arched aqueduct from
Solomon's Pools. At seventy-three yards further is the Lower
Pool of Gihon, now called Birket es Sultan. This is directly
below the southwestern angle of the city wall, which forms a
fine object over head, crowning the steep brow of Zion. At
one hundred and forty yards below the pool, the valley again
turns eastward, continuing about the same breadth, but increas¬
ing rapidly in depth. The bottom of the valley is covered with
loose stones; still it is cultivated, and many portions of it
abound with olive trees. Towards the lower end it continues
to widen, and unites with the Kidron or Valley of Jehoshaphat
nine hundred and twenty-two yards below the last bend. The
valley is a place of
\
TOMBS AND SEPULCHRES.
We have seen the tomb of David, and other tombs on the
northern side of the valley, high up the side of Zion. All along
the southern side of the valley is a steep, rocky ledge, and mul¬
titudes of tombs have been cut and carved along its entire sur¬
face. They are of various shapes and sizes, most of them
plainly constructed, some of them dug far into the hill-side.
Many of them have now been entirely destroyed. In erecting
some of the modern convents, the builders found it a very easy
way of quarrying stones to put a quantity of powder into one
of these rocky excavations and apply a slow-match. The ex¬
plosion would produce for them a mass of stone already squared
upon one side ready for their walls. Many portions of these
old tombs still remaining, give evidence of the explosive power
to which they have thus been subjected. In one place in the
upper part of the valley, our attention was called to a large
portion of the rock, graded and smoothed, level as a house floor.
This was an ancient threshing-floor, precisely such, I suppose,
as Araunah, the Jebusite, had on Mount Moriah. As you ap¬
proach the Kidron, Hinnom rapidly deepens into a gloomy dell.
It is a wild; dismal, looking place. The south side rises high
above y oui head in an irregular frowning clifl'. In this deep,
WALKS ABOTTT JEEUSALEM.
71
rocky precipice just above the junction of the two valleys, No.
9, tradition locates
ACELDAMA, "THE ÏIELD OF BLOOD."
IIow vividly, as I gazed upon it, it brought to my mind that
fearful night in the life of the Savior, when Judas, in company
with the priests, balanced thirty pieces of silver against the
blood of his master. " This man purchased a field with the re¬
ward of iniquity, and falling down in the midst thereof, all his
bowels gushed out." As we looked up to that fearful precipice
above us, we were almost persuaded to think that this was re¬
ally the scene of that awful tragedy—^that on some projecting
limb upon the top of yonder hight, the conscience-smitten Ju¬
das suspended himself, and from his frail and broken rope came
tumbling down these fearful hights. Indeed, it is the opinion
of some best acquainted with localities here, that this was real¬
ly the place where that apostate met his fate.
This whole cliff is full of tombs. The rock has been cut out
and penetrated in all directions. Portions of the front of Acel¬
dama have been built up with stone masonry, and behind this
18 a deep cave. "We crowded into one of these excavations and
wound our way among the gloomy sepulchral passages. In
some places large quantities of bones, can still be seen scattered
about in promiscuous confusion. One of my companions, seized
with a sudden impulse for gathering relies, picked up a dirty
old skull, and declared his intention of transporting it from
" The Field of Blood " to his American home, but before we
reached daylight he abandoned his purpose, and left it to mol-
der among its kindred bones. It is stated that the dirt of this
charnel-hOuse was anciently reputed to possess the remarkable
quality of consuming the fiesh of bodies cast into it in the brief
space of twenty-four hours, without their undergoing corrup¬
tion. On this account, about 1812, many ship-loads of the dirt
were taken to Pisa, in Italy, to form the celebrated Campo Santo.
It was a loathsome place, and we made our visit very brief.
Emerging once more into the light of day, we realized more
than ever before the loneliness and dreariness of
" The deep, damp vault, the darkness and the worm."
28
72
THE HOLT LAND.
_Kearly opposite Aceldama, at Ko. 10, is the Pool oí Siloam;"
but before we stop to examine it we will pass a little farther
down, and just at the junction of the Valley of Jehosbapbat
with the Kidron, we shall find a remarkable well, called by the
Arabs, Bir Eyub, and by the Franks, the "Well of Kebemiab,
now conlmonly known as
• THE WELL OF JOAB OB JOB.
This is the En-Rogel of the Old Testament, one of the an¬
cient landmarks in locating the boundaries of the tribes. It is
a large well, one hundred and twenty-five feet deep, strongly
walled up with large hewn stones. This wall terminates in an
arch at the top, evidently built in very ancient times. There
is at all times plenty of water in the well, and during the rainy
season it overflows. The water of this well is excellent, and it
is still a place of great resort. A large fiat stone, with a circu¬
lar bole in the center, constitutes the mouth of the well. The
water is still drawn, as in ancient times, in leather buckets or
earthen jars attached to ropes. I was particularly struck by
the deep creases worn in the solid rock, where these ropes, for
many centuries, bad been drawn up and down.
Standing upon the mouth of this well, we may recall two or
three of the events that have transpired here. Kearly three
thousand years ago Absalom instigated a revolt against his
father David, and made an attempt to seize upon the kingdom.
David was forced to flee from Jerusalem, and took refuge near
the Jordan. Jonathan and Ahimaaz returned to see what
tidings they could gather of the progress of the rebellion.
Fearing to come into the city lest they should be suspected as
spies, they tarried by this well. A lad saw them here, knew
them, and immediately carried the tidings to Absalom. Absa¬
lom's servants pursued them, but a loyal woman had a well in
the court of her house into which they descended, and she laid
a cloth over its mouth and spread corn upon it to dry ; and tlie
unsuspecting emissaries of a rebellious son passed on witliout
suspecting the deception. They were able to return to David
with such information as to save him from the wicked plot of a
»rebellious son.
THE VALLEY OF HINNOM. 73
Aa this well has been a rallying place for David's friends, so
lias it for his enemies. Seventy years had passed over his head,
and the infirmities of age had settled down upon him. Absa¬
lom, his first born, had pierced his father's heart with many sor¬
rows, and now Adonijah, his third son, conspired against him.
ne prepared for himself chariots and horsemen, and a great
retinue of servants, and gathered around him many of the
chief men of the kingdom, and on the broad plain of the valley
that surrounds this well he made a great feast, and by the stone
of Zoheleth he slew sheep, oxen and fat cattle, and had himself
proclaimed king of Israel. But while these partisans were en¬
deavoring to consummate their wicked Schemes here, up the val¬
ley yonder, by the Pool of Gihon, David directed the lawful au¬
thorities of the realm to assemble, and the crown of the king¬
dom was placed upon the head of Solomon. The shouts of the
loyal multitude came echoing down this valley, and the hilar¬
ity of this unlawful feast was soon arrested. "All the guests
that were with Adonijah were afraid, and rose up and went
every man his way." The rebellious son who was about to
grasp a scepter, fled for refuge to the courts of the Lord, and
"laid hold on the horns of the altar," and there the magnani¬
mous Solomon extended a pardon to him. This fountain is
also called the "Well of !N'ehemiah," from a singular tradition
that the holy fire of the altar was preserved in a cave connected
with it during the whole time of the captivity in Babylon, and
that ÎTehemiah recovered it from this place on the re-building
of the temple.
THE MOUNT OF CORRUPTION.
I
Standing where we now do, turn eastward, and look up to
the tall mountain slope that rises nearly five hundred feet
above our heads. That is the " Mount of Corruption." This
is also called "Hill of Offense," and sometimes "Mount of
Scandal." Strange things have transpired upon these hills and
in these valleys. Within sight of where we now stand has
passed many of the scenes^ that God has seen fit to order the
pen of inspiration to record for the instruction of all succeed-
ng generations. Alas ! that the wise and good king Solomon
74
THE HOLT LAND.
eliould have so dishonored God and disgraced tne closing
scenes of his brilliant earthly career, by such shameful apostasy
from his God. Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed
lest he fall. His idolatrous wives turned him away from the
purity of his holy faith. "He built an high place for Chemosh,
the abomination of Moab, in the hill that is before Jerusalem,
and for Moloch, the abomination of the children of Ammon.
And likewise did he for all his strange wives which burned in¬
cense, and sacrificed unto their gods." (1 Kings ii. 7, 8.) Wt
can offer no apology for him, but the imbecility of age ; and yet
this the Lord did not accept as an excuse, for he was angry
with him, and visited judgments upon his house and kingdom.
And now there stands the hill, and God has set a name upon
it, as if he would make it a perpetual memorial of the offense.
There it stands—an enduring monument—and there it wiL
stand, and the name, "Mount of Scandal," is the writing of
God's hand upon it, and that name will go down to the latest
posterity. Travelers from all Jands will come here, and as
they stand before it and gaze upon it, they will be reminded,
on the one hand, of man's frailty; on the other, of heaven's dis¬
pleasure against all idolatry. But Solomon's defilement of this
valley and hill, is not all that has rendered this spot a place of
" oflense."
HERE WAS lOPHET.
Under the apostate kings of Judah that subsequently reigned
in Jerusalem, this portion of the valley became the seat of the
most horrible idolatrous services. Here, under the very brow
of Zion, overlooked by the magnificent temple of the living
God, the most revolting of all heathen abominations were prac¬
ticed. Here "Moloch, horrid king, besmeared with blood of
human sacrificers and parent's tears," had his groves and altars.
He is represented as a large brazen statue, hollow within, and
arms extended, äs if to receive and welcome his victims. Heated
with fire, children were placed as offerings upon the extended
arms, and fell into the burning furnace below. During the time
ot sacrifice, drums were beaten to drown the cries of the burn-
.ng innocents. "Imagination," says one, "can picture the
PLACES ABOUT JERUSALEM,
75
monster ready for a victim, surrounded by priests, a band of
drummers, and an excited multitude ; while here and there a
Hebrew mother is seen, pale and haggard, straining her devoted
infant to her bosom for the last time."
"We can scarce believe that such horrid and disgusting riles
have been practiced upon this place where we now stand; bu
Moloch was an ancient idol, and often the children of Israei
had been warned against honoring his altars. They had been
taught his worship in idolatrous Egypt ; they were tempted to
re-establish it in the wilderness; and Moses had given them
solemn warnings against it, the Lord instructing him to say :
" Whosoever he be of the children of Israel, or of the strangers
that sojourn in Israel, that giveth any of his children unto Mo¬
loch, he shall surely be put to death; the people of the land
shall stone him with stones." (Lev. xx.,2.) The awful idola¬
tries of this valley were broken up by good king Josiah, who
made the valley
A PLACE OP'pOLLUTION
He determined so to defile the place that the Jews disposed
to idolatry would utterly abhor and forsake it. The idolatrous
priests were degraded, the altars demolished, the groves cut
down, and the place defiled with dead men's bones. This por¬
tion of the valley became a receptacle of filth and offal of all
kinds from the city. Here corruption and the worm held ban¬
quet, and fires are said to have been kept continually burning
to consume the piles of filth that were deposited here. From
this it was that the Greek Gehenna, from Ge Hinnom, became
to the Jews a forcible illustration of the displeasure of God
against transgressors,^ while the continual riot of the worm of
corruption and ever burning fires furnished the Savior with
his impressive imagery of future retribution, in which he has
taught us it is better to cut off an offending hand or foot, and
enter life maimed, than to have the perfect body to be cast into
hell (Gehenna), " where their worm dieth not, and their fire is
not quenched." Thus Gehenna and Tophet, ordained of old,
are now our instructors; their very names are among the
warnings God has written in the deep, dark depths of these
76
THE HOL! LAND.
gloomy valleys to admonish us of his displeasure against trans
gressors. Connected with this valley is another remarkable
rULÏILLMBNT OV PBOPHECT. .
Isaiah says of this place, in allnsion to its,character : "To
phet was ordained of old ; * * * he hath made it deep and
large; the pile thereof is fire and much wood; the breath of the
Lord, like a stream of brimstone, doth kindle it." (xxiii. 35.)
Jeremiah looks into the future and sees the fearful carnage,
and the multitudes of slain that shall here be piled heaps upon
heaps. The Lord directed him to take a potter's bottle, and
come and stand in this very place, in company with some of the
old priests, and in the presence of these witnesses to dash
the bottle in pieces and say : " Thus saith the Lord of hosts,
even so will I break this people, and this city (Jernsalem) as
one breaketh a potter's vessel that cannot be made whole again,
and they shall bury them in Tophd till there be no place to bury"
(xix. 11.)
Though this was written six hundred years before Christ, and
might have applied to the conquest by Nebuchadnezzar, how
exact was its fulfillment in the siege under Titus, according to
the testimony of Josephus himself! The city then extended
nearly down to this place, and a portion of this valley was not
only a great place of sepulture, but it was in this corner of the
city that the last struggle between the Jews and the Eomans
took place; and this retired portion of the valley would
most likely be the place to which the dead, slain in battle
and dying of famine, would be conveyed. And through one
gate alone, we are informed, there was carried out between the
15th of the month Nisan and the 1st of T^muz, two months and
a half, one hundred and fifteen thousand eight hundred and
eighty dead bodies. After this some of the citizens went over
to Titus, and informed him that up to the time of their leaving
"no fewer than six hundred thousand dead had been thrown
out at the gates. (Wars v., xiii. 7.) Tophet and Hinnom, what
scenes ye have witnessed ! Can all the flowing waters of the
Kidron and the fountains of thy hill-sides ever wash away thy
defilements? Well did Jeremiah say this place should no morä
POUNTAINS OP THE VALLEY.
77
he called Tophet, nor the Valley of the Son of Hinnom, but the
Valley of Slaughter. When Titus came into the conquered
city, as Josephus informs us, and saw these valleys below Jeru¬
salem heaped full of dead bodies, he was so horrified at the
sight that he raised his hands and called heaven to witness
that ne was not responsible for this terrific destruction of hu¬
man life !
But we are lingering here too long. Let us leave Tophet
and Gehenna, and turn to scenes that will inspire more cheer¬
ful associations. Turning back a little, just at the mouth
of the Tyropean Valley, between Zion and Ophel, No. 10, we
stand by
THE POOL OF SILOAM.
This is a place of so much interest we must tarry here a lit¬
tle, and take a thorough look at it. It is one of the most
noted fountains about Jerusalem. In this vicinity, just below
this Pool, Solomon, and probably subsequent kings of Judah,
had some most beautiful gardens; and Nehemiah says: (iii. 15.)
" Shallum built the wall of the Pool of Siloah by the king's
garden." Isaiah speaks of the waters of Siloah that flow soft¬
ly ; and who has not read with deep interest the strange cure
of the blind man, when the Savior, having anointed his eyes
with the mixture of dust and spittle, said : " Go wash in the
Pool of Siloam," and he went and washed, "and came seeing."
And who can write about this placQ without being reminded
of the words of the great poet who sings of these renowned lo¬
calities :
"If Zion's hill
Delights thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flowed
Past by the oracles of God, I thence
Invoke their aid to my adventurous song."
To get a clear understanding of these remarkable waters,
and about which, notwithstanding all the investigations of
modem travelers, there is much of mystery, we must take you
to another locality. Standing at No. 10, in the mouth of the
Tyropean, where the waters of Siloam flow out at the base of
Ophel, follow around the brow of the hill in the valley of the
78
THE HOLT LAND.
KidroL to IS'o. 11. Here is a singular reservoir of water, now
called
the fountain of the vxegin.
This fountain has several different names. It's sometimes
'called the DragorCs Fount—Fount of the Sun—Bath of Samud—
Bîthesda—^Fount op Siloam. I find much confusion in different
authors in the description of these two fountains, and the name
Pool and Fountain of Siloam used interchangeably and applied
to both, and sometimes so applied as to make it impossible to
tell which one is referred to. The lower one, Ho. 10, is the
Pool of Siloam ; the upper one. Ho. 11, may properly enough
be called the Fountain of Siloam; for it, as we shall soon see,
supplies the waters oi the pool, but in the following description
we shall call it the Fountain of the Virgin, the familiar name by
which it is now known at Jerusalem. To Drs. Barclay and
llobinson I am indebted for the most accurate description of
these waters I have been able to find, and I felt that it was a
great piece of good fortune to have Dr. Barclay with me in my
visit to the place.
Returning now to the Pool of Siloam, Ho. 10, let us first take
a look at that. The water here is received into an oblong res
ervoir, fifty-three feet in length, eighteen feet wide and nineteen
feet deep. It does not fill up, but when the water, as it fiowa
in, has áttained the depth of two or three feet, it passes off
through an outlet for a short distance under ground, and then
falls into some reserviors, or troughs, from which it goes dash¬
ing off' in little bubbling rills on its way to water the gardens
below. At the upper end of this pool is an old arched stair¬
way, now tumbling into ruins, by which a descent can be made
.to the mouth of the subterranean passage through which the
water enters. The pool is still a great place of public resort,
an i here the people congregate to bathe, wash clotles, and
water their animals. Six old pillars of Jerusalem marble are
still seen imbedded in a portion of the eastern wall of the pool,
which, in connection with others that have now disappeared,
nrobably once supported a roof over the waters.
How comes the most singular feature of the pool. Its sup
THE POOL OP SILOAM.
79
ply of water is all received from the Fountain of the Virgin,
Uo. 11. Siloam means, sent, and the waters are sent to it from
the fountain above. Dr. Robinson having found the belief
current at Jerusalem that a subterranean passage existed be¬
tween these two fountains, and finding some allusions to it in
early writings, determined, with his usual energy and persever¬
ance, to settle the question. Repairing in company with his
companions to the Pool of Siloam, they divested themselves of
shoes, stockings, and unnecessary garments, and entered the
subterranean passage through which the water fiows. It was
a dirty, gloomy, and unexplored road. They found the pas¬
sage cut wholly through the solid rock, two feet wide," and
somewhat winding in its course. For the first hundred feet it
was from fifteen to twenty feet high ; another hundred feet or
more, from six to ten feet ; afterwards, not more than two to
three feet, thus gradually becoming lower alid lower. Having
lights and a tape line, they measured as they went, and after
having penetrated eight hundred feet, the ceiling of the pas¬
sage was so low they could proceed no" further without crawl¬
ing on all fours. This being a contingency they had not calcu¬
lated for, they traced on the roof, with the smoke of their
candles, the initials of their names, and the figures 800, to de¬
note the distance, and made a retreat to the pool, wet and be¬
dabbled with mud, determined yet to complete the exploration.
Mow let us go up again to the Fountain of the Virgin.
A portion of our road leads along an old embankment or
causeway, and just by our path you may notice an old mulber¬
ry tree. It bears tho marks of antiquity, is rotten at the base,
crooked nearly double, and would tumble over but for a column
of stone some careful persons have piled beneath to support it.
That is the " Tree of Isaiah" and tradition says, marks the ex¬
act spot where Manassah caused ^the prophet to he sawn
asunder.
Arriving at the fountain, we find it a large, deep, artificial
cavity in the hill-side, excavated entirely in the solid rock. To
enter it, you descend first a broad stone stairway of sixteen
steps; here you find a level stone space or platform twelve feet
broad; then you descend again ten steps more before reaching
80
THE HOLY LAND.
the water At the water you are about twenty-five feel below
the entrance in the hill-side, and some ten to fifteen feet below
the bottom of the valley. A good idea of this descent to these
subterranean waters may be obtained from the accompanying
cut. Arriving at the water you find it contained in a fountain
or basin about fifteen feet long, five to six feet broad, and six
or. eight feet high. The usual depth of water is about three
feet, the bottom of the basin being covered with pebbles and
an accumulation of dirt and rubbish. The water flows off in a
low passage leading towards the Pool of Siloara. It was from
this point Drs. Robinson and Smith completed their survey of
this subterranean passage. Prepared, not only for wading, but
for crawling, they forced their way into the narrow passage.
They found it much smaller than at the other end ; most of the
way they had to go upon their hands and knees, and in some
places, where the passage was more filled up than at others,
they had to lie at full length, and drag and push themselves
along with knees and elb >wr. It was a wonder to them how
this small passage could ever have been cut through the solid
rock. It could only be worked at by one man at a time, and
by him only as he lay along nearly at full length. It must
have been a work of years. They found, also many turns and
zigzags in the direction of the passage, thus greatly increasing
its length. At last, after having worked their wayjn this labo¬
rious manner nine hundred and fifty fe^t, to their great satisfac¬
tion they came upon their original smoke mark of 800 feet, the
termination of their exploration from the opposite direction.
Thus by this laborious process they settled the question that
the waters of Siloam were supplied from the Fountain of the
Virgin by a subterranean passage seventeen hundred and fifty feel
in length, chiseled by the hand of man through the solid rock
of Ophel!
Dr. Barclay informed us that he attempted an exploration
of the same passage. He crawled in several hundred feet,
when ne found the passage so choked up with rubbish he could
scarcely keep his mouth above water, even when his head was
pressed against the upper part of the passage, and he was com¬
pelled to retreat. He, however, made a discovery, forty-nine
mount of CORRUPTION.-Soe
P«Ee 73.
rOUNTAIW OF THE VIEGIN, OE TJPPEE
FOUNTAIN OF SILOAM.
FOUNTAIN or THE TIROXN,
83
feet from the entrance, of a collateral passage, which was found
to lead across Ophel towards Mount-Zion, and which ho ex¬
plored to a point near the present Mugrabin Q-ate, a small gate
between Mount Zion Gate and the Temple area, without find¬
ing its termination.
But while we have here the source of the waters of the Pool
of Siloam, how is this Fountain of the Virgin supplied? This
is a mystery that remains to be yet explained. One of the pe¬
culiarities of the water is their periodical flow. The main por¬
tion of the water enters from beneath the north end of the
ibwest step, but some of it comes bubbling up with considera¬
ble force about midway of the pool on the south side. This
stream ebbs and flows quite irregularly, but generally three or
four times a day in autumn, and oftener in spring. It runs
from two to four hours in the twenty-four, and appears perfect¬
ly quiescent during the remainder of the day. "WTien it com¬
mences flowins: it gushes out suddenly with considerable force,
and runs from fifteen minutes to half an hour, and then ceases
for several hours.
"What is the reason of this periodical ebb and flow of the
waters ? Ask that woman who has just filled her water-pot at
the generous fountain. She will tell you that in some deep,
under-ground channel through which this water comes, there
lives a monstrous dragon. When he lies down he completely
dams up the water and prevents its flow ; when he gets up to
seek his food, the water again has a chance to flow until he re¬
sumes his rest ; and thus it is only occasionally the waters can
run. Such is the popular superstition among the credulous
natives with regard to this singular fountain. But however
satisfactory this explanation may be to ignorant Arabs and
Moslems, it does not satisfy the scientific mind.
That these waters are connected with some subterranean res¬
ervoir in the hills above, there can be no doubt. That this res¬
ervoir empties itself periodically, by means of a syphon pa&-
sage, must also be admitted. But whether that reservoir and
syphon aqueduct be the work of nature, or fashioned by the
hand of art, remains to be determined. It has long been the
opinion of many intelligent persons that this singular flow of
84
THE HOLY LAND.
the waters of Siloam is in some way conneeted with the artil-
cial, subterranean water passages of the city, either of Mount
Zion, or the Temple area, or both. So much was Dr. Barclay
impressed with this idea, that on one occasion he made a bar¬
gain with the sheik of the adjoining village, who claims to ex¬
ercise protection over the fountain, for the privilege of remov¬
ing a few of the lower steps, beneath which the most of the
waters enter, to see if he could discover any artificial, subterra¬
nean passage. Knowing the prejudice and hostility of the na¬
tives, he repaired to the place, with the necessary help and imple¬
ments of labor, about 10 o'clock at night, determined to use thé
quiet hours of slumber to the best advantage. What was his
surprise to meet the wily old sheik, who, true to the treacher
ous instincts and avarice of his race, gravely informed him that
the bargain for one hundred piasters, then about five dollars,
was only a mere jest on his part; that the "Angleseys" (En¬
glish) had repeatedly offered him five hundred piasters for the
same privilege, which he had always indignantly refused ; but as
he was " Hakim American " he would only charge hxmfour hun¬
dred piasters! The Doctor's zeal was extinguished; the ex¬
ploration was abandoned ; the sheik, in attempting to grasp too
much, lost all, and the hidden sources of Siloah's waters still
remain a profound mystery.
This Fountain of Siloam is still a great place of resort for the
surrounding inhabitants, and especially of the neighboring vil¬
lage of Siloam. The steps are deeply and smoothly worn by
the incessant passing up and down. It is a great wash-tub,
where women daily resort to renovate their bundles of soiled
and dirty garments ; it is a great public bath, where old and
young of both sexes perform their ablutions ; it is believed by
the natives to possess healing qualities, and to be especially
beneficial in ophthalmic affections, so that diseased bodies and
sore eyes impart their foul contaminations to the water, ana
render it unfit for the use of the more cleanly Frank.
It is said by some to get the name "Fountain of the Vir^n"
from the fact that the mother of our Lord used to resort here
with others to wash her wearing apparel; others say that these
waters were a grand test for women accused of incontinence.
WATEBS OP SILOAH.
If iunocent, they drank it without injury; if guilty, they imme¬
diately fell down dead ! When the Virgin Mary was accused,
she submitted to the ordeal, and thus established her innocence.
Was it not this or some similar pool known in the days of
our Savior as Bethesda, in which the periodical flow of the
waters was attributed to an angel, and which waters were be
lieved to possess healing powers ? At any rate, it was with pe- ■
culiar interest I clambered down the old moss-grown steps, trod,
perhaps, by the feet of kings and patriarchs, listened to the
deep gurgling waters, and recalled the interesting incidents
connected with the place. Siloam is a place that awakens
many a serious, yet interesting and profltable reflection. True,
the place has now been stripped of its poetic beauties, and has
lost the charm of inspiration it once possessed. This hill, once
dense with population, is now a barren waste ; the beautiful
gardens, that were once the resort and pride of kings, have
given place to a few miserable patches of cultivated soil. What
might, under the hand of cultivation, be one of the most beau¬
tiful and picturesque spots in the world, is nOw a scene of deso¬
lation ; and blindness, such as Siloam's waters can never wash
away, rests upon the inhabitants.
Those waters have been made á beautiful type of more glori¬
ous things. Having their source, as many believe, in the secret
subterranean reservoirs of the Mount of Hod, here they come
gushing forth; on through Kidron eastward they flow, gradual¬
ly increasing in size and force, till they flnd a home and are
swallowed up in the bitter waters of the Dead Sea. Here, it is
thought, Ezekiel (xlvii. 1,12) got-his striking illustration of
the waters of life, the mystical river of Hod, which, small in its
beginnings, he saw flow from under the altar of Hod. It went
forth eastward towards the desert country ; at flrst its depth
was to the ankles, then to the knees, then to the loins, and then
•'it was a river to swim in that could not be passed over."
Wherever the river went, every thing lived, and when it came
into the sea the waterl were healed. What is this but the glori¬
ous river of life—the gospel of the grace of Hod—bursting
forth in the glorious revelation of Jesus Christ, issuing from Je¬
rusalem, the sanctuary, flowing through the desert oortions ol
86
THE HOLY LAND.
th^ earth, scattering life and blessings, and sweetening the bit¬
ter waters of sin and death? I wonder if David did not stand
by this pool, or bathe in these waters, and think of their hid¬
den origin beneath the sanctuary, when he says, "All my springs
are in Thee." Surely, from Zion has gone forth the law, and the
word of God from Jerusalem.
HIOHT or THE MOUNTAINS.
The bight of some of the elevations about the city from En-
llogel, or the Well of Joab, at the junction of Jehoshaphat
and Hinnom, is given by Dr. Barclay :
Mount Ophel above En-Bogel 377 feet.
Mount of Corruption, En-Bogel 422 "
Top of the city wall at the southeast comer of the temple area 425 "
Hill of Evil Council 506 "
Zion, average bight 521 "
Bezetha 550 *'
Northwest corner of the city 571 "
Mount Olivet 678 "
As the Pool of Siloam is one hundred and seventeen feet
higher than En-E.ogel, by deducting that from the above bights
it will give their elevation ahoye this pool. Mount Zion is four
hundred and four feet above Siloam. As the sides of these el¬
evations are often rocky and precipitous, it gives them a much
more imposing appearance than they would otherwise have, and
as one looks upon them he is impressed with the striking com¬
parison of David, " As the mountains are round about Jerusa¬
lem, so the Lord is round about his people."
We shall now return to the city for our noonday refresh¬
ments ; at 2 o'clock we will meet again at this fountain, and
continue our walk up the Valley of Jehoshaphat, among the
tombs and into the celebrated excavations beneath the city.
/art of the Valley of Jeboaaphat. and entrance to Jeraialeok
VALLEY OF JEHOSHAPHAT.
CHAPTER IV.
Rambijbs about Jerusalem Continued — Ancient Tombs —
Grottoes and "Wonderful Excavations.
At SUoam we are in the renowned Valley of Jehoshaphat,
meaning " Jehováh Judgeth." The origin of this name is found
in a passage of the prophet Joel, in which he speaks of the
"Valley of Jehoshaphat," where God will judge the oppress¬
ors of his people. It is singular that this valley, in three of the
great religious systems of the world, should be designated as
the scene of the last great jugdment. The Jew here looks for
the appearance of Messiah and destruction upon his enemies.
On yonder terrace wall of Mount Moriah that overhangs this
valley, the Mohammedan will tell you his Prophet will sit to
judge the world; while from yonder summit of Olivet the Sa¬
vior ascended to heaven, and many believe that on this spot he
wiU descend, and that before him the nations shall be gathered.
Well is this wild ravine called the "Valley of Decision." Jews,
Mohammedans and Christians all agree in the propriety of the
present name. Jerusalem, what a place thou hast in the reli¬
gious faith and affections of the world !
The head of the valley is on the north side of Jerusalem, and
at first very shallow. As you descend the valley to the south¬
ward, and' come opposite St. Stephen's Gate, the depth is about
one hundred feet, and the breadth about four hundred feet.
Here, a little to the northward as you cross the valley, nestling
under the shadow of the steep declivities of Olivet, is one of the
sacred spots embalmed in the memory of every Christian, and
to which we are yet to pay a formal visit—Gethsemane. As
you continue down the valley along the Temple area it rapidly
deepens, and the hills rise in steep precipices on both sides
90
THE HOLT LAND.
Paeaing the Fountain of Siloam, the valley again widens, the
pleasant gardens and cultivated terraces make their appearance ;
and near by, in strange contrast, " Tophet and black Gehenna, '
called the type of hell." The length of the valley from its
head to Eu-Rogel, or its junction with Hinnom, is two and
three-fourths miles. It then cuts its way through tho wild,
hilly country of the wilderness of Judea, past the convent of
St. Saba, where it is called "The Monk's Valley;'* below the
convent it takes the name of the "Valley of Fire," until it ter¬
minates at the Dead Sea, fourteen miles from Jerusalem. Such
is the valley that now has an undying name in the records of
our holy religion. " A valley," says one, " which has witnessed
on its banks the greatest scene in the evangelical drama—^the
tears, the agonies, and the death of the Savior! A valley
through which the prophets have passed, in their turns, utter¬
ing a cry of wo and terror, which seems still to echo ! " and we
may say, a valley from the banks of which the Savior ascended
to be again with his Father, and a valley which, in the estima¬
tion of many, "is destined to hear the stupendous noise of the
torrent of souls rolling before God, and coming to their fata)
j udgment." Through this valley flows
T.HE WATERS OF THE KIDBON.
Kidron, Kedron, or Cedrón, as some call it, is the Hebrew
name of the place. "When David fled from the city during the
rebellion of his son Absalom, he is said to have "passed over
the brook Kidron, toward the way of the wilderness." After
this the place is frequently referred to in the history of the
Holy City. The bed of the Kidron opposite Jerusalem is now
dry ; no water flows above the surface imtil you get far down
the valley below the 'city. But this is undoubtedly owing to
the great diminution of water that has taken place from natu¬
ral causes that have long been operating in this land. That
there was formerly a running brook here, is evident from the
various scripture allusions to the place. Though the channel
of the stream is now dry, the "Brook Kidron" has a place in
(Jhristian history and Christian poetry, from which it will never
perish. It was crossed and re-crossed by the Savior, and is one
J JS.HOSHAFHAT A BUBIAL PLAGE.
91
of the landmarks by which we know the spot of his agony on
the fearful night of his betrayal. Gethsemane and Kidron are
inseparably blended in the closing scenes of his eventful life.
Jehoshaphat, like Hinnom, is a great sepulchral valley. Just
under the east wall of the city the Mohammedans have a cem¬
etery, and a large extent of ground is thickly covered with
their singular looking tombs. Here, under the shadow of the
great Mosque of Omar, the Mussulman covets a tomb. On the
opposite side of the valley is the great silent city of the Jewish
dead. Here, since the days of David and Solomon, generation
after generation have been gathered unto their fathers. For
thousands of years bones have been piled upon bones, and the
dust of the children has been mingled with the ashes of their
forefathers. The whole of the east bank, all along up the side
of Olivet, is covered with the tombs of the countless descend¬
ants of Abraham.. It is still said to be one of the greatest
privileges craved by the dying Jew, to have his bones laid in
the sepulchral home of his fathers in the Valley of Jehosha¬
phat. Here they expect their coming Messiah to stand in the
resurrecfion. Those buried in this valley, they say, will rise at
once from their tombs, while those who have been buried in
other lands will have a long and weary under-ground pilgrim¬
age to make to reach this place.
Just opposite the Fountain of the Virgin upon the steep de¬
clivity of the eastern bank, Ho. 12, is the modern village of Si-
loam, or Silwan. It is a wretched looking place of a few scores
of dwellings, formed by wresting the rock-hewn sepulchres of
, the hill-side from the possession of the dead, building up stone
fronts, and turning them into gloomy, dirty looking abodes for
the living. The inhabitants are as wretched and miserable as
their dwellings, and noted for their rude and lawless conduct.
There is nothing about the place or its surroundings to awaken
the poetic associations the name is calculated to suggest.
Some of the ancient tombs along this valley are wortûy of
special notice :
"Strong Taulted celia, where martjred seers of old
Far in the rocky walls of Zion sleep."
92
THE HOLT LAND.
The soil on these hill-sides is shallow and easily washed
away ; the rock is soft and easily cut, and both these circum¬
stances conspired to induce the ancients to cut their tombs deep
into the solid beds of the mountains. A few of the monu¬
mental tombs are worthy of special note.
The Tomb op St. James is a large excavated chamber :n the
side of the cliif, with a porch in front, supported by two col¬
umns. The doorway is handsomely carved. The porch is
eighteen feet wide and nine deep, from which a plain door
opens into a sepulchral chamber seventeen feet by fourteen.
From this are openings into three smaller places, with recesses
for bodies.
The Tomb op Zeohariah is a monolithic monument-^an en¬
tire mass of the native rock separated from the hill-side by
cutting a broad passage around three sides of it. It is cubic in
shape, with a pyramidal top, each side seventeen feet. It is or¬
namented with columns, pilasters, cornice, etc., and said to have
been constructed in honor of Zechariah, who was stoned in the
court of the temple in the reign of Joash. "Your fathers
killed the prophets, and ye bnild their sepulchres." No entrance
to this singular monument has ever been found, and it is sup¬
posed to be solid. Many Hebrew names are engraven upon
the sides, and dirt and rubbish have accumulated about it till
nearly one-fourth of it is buried from view.
The Tome op Jehoshaphat is near by. The stone doorway
is richly ornamented with sculptured foliage, although it is now
choked up nearly to the top with dirt and stones. For whom
this tomb was built is a matter of much uncertainty. Jehosha¬
phat, the Bible informs us, " was buried with his fathers in the
city of David ; " if so, he was not buried here. Some say it is
the burial place of Simon the Just, and others assign it to Jo¬
seph, the husband of Mary. In 1842, it is said an attempt to
explore this tomb by a visitor from Bome resulted in the dis¬
covery, in the interior, of a Hebrew manuscript, of the Penta¬
teuch. Dr. Barclay informed us that he had long been anxious
to make an exploration of the tomb, but the jealousy and hos¬
tility of the Jews prevented it. At last, taking advantage of
the cover of night, and plying pick and shovel with all possible
ANCIENT TOMBS,
93
«ecrecy and diligence, he reached the interior, but instead of
being rewarded by the discovery of ancient inanuscripts and
.Tewish antiquities, he found only a room full of rotten leather
parings, and heaps of unsightly skeletons. Near this may be
seen another notable monument—
The Tomb or Pillar op Absalom. O, Absalom ! The mem
ory ot that bad boy loses none of its offensive odor as it comes
down through the long succession of generations. "With what
unfeigned anguish a heart-broken father hung over his man¬
gled body. " 0, Absalom, my son, my son, would God I had
died for thee." But Absalom was not buried here. He was
slain in the battle his own rebellion had provoked in the wood
of Ephraim ; " and they took him and cast him into a great
pit in the wood, and laid a very great heap of stones upon him."
(2 Sam. xviii. 17.) But the same narrative informs us : "Ab¬
salom in his life time had reared up for himself a pillar, which
is in the king's dale, for he said, I have no son to keep my
name in remembrance; and he called the pillar after his own
name."
The lower part of this pillar, like the tomb of Zechariah, is a
monolith, chiseled from the solid rock of the hill-side. This
mass of stone is twenty-two feet square, ornamented with col¬
umns and pilasters, and over them an Egyptian cornice.
Above this is a pile of masonry, consisting of layers of large
stones, ornamented with projecting cable moldings, the whole
surmounted by a pyramidal top, crowned by a tuft of palm
leaves. Its hight is about fifty feet. A great heap of rubbish
has accumulated about the base, to which additions are contin¬
ually made from the contempt in which the memory of Absa¬
lom is held. Moslems, Jews and Christians, as they pass this
monument, manifest their indignation against the rebellious
son by casting a stone at the monument, or spitting spitefully
towards it. I write this for the boys. If you would have the
resjiect of the good while living, and a revered monument to
mark your resting place when dead, remember the command
ment, and honor thy father and thy mother. From these sin¬
gular and costly tombs, we will now climb up the side of Oli
vet to No. 13, the Tombs of the Prophets.
94
THE HOLY LAND.
The tombs we have been comtemplating are monumentai
piles above ground; these are dark, sepulchral regions—deep,
damp chambers in the heart of Olivet. No mere verbal de¬
scription could convey any just idea of these subterranean gal¬
leries, vaults, and coffin cells ; so we have inserted the following
plan, by which the reader will see at a glance the singulai
course and comparative length and depth of these subtenane*
the tombs of the fb0fhet8.
an passages. The entrance. No. 1, is narrow and crooked, and
now nearly choked up with dirt, so that one has literally to
crawl to gain an entrance. At No. 2 you find yourself in a
large circular chamber, twenty-four feet in diameter, and ten
feet high. Two parallel galleries, Nob. 3 and 4, ten feet high
and five feet wide, are carried southward through the rock
about sixty feet; a third, No. 5, diverges southeast about forty
ieet. These are connected by two cross galleries in concentric
curves, Nos. 6 and 7, one at their extreme end, the other in the
middle. The outer one is one hundred and fifteen feet long,
and has a range of thirty niches on the level of its floor, radi¬
ating outwards, in which to deposit dead bodies. Other pas¬
sages opening into other chambers may also be seen in the
drawing.
How these singular catacombs obtained the name of " Tombs
ÍOMBS IK OLIVET,
95
of the Prophets," no one how knows, as there is no evidence
that any of the prophets were buried here. They are, in their
construction, unlike any other tombs in the vicinity of Jerusa¬
lem. Existing in connection with the great Jewish cemetery,
would lead to the supposition that the Jews might have exca¬
vated them; and yet, as Jerusalem was a city long anterior to
the occupation of the Israelites, they may have a still earlier
date. Not a line of inscription, a record, or remains of any
kind, have ever been found to throw a ray of light upon their
origin. Who built them, what lordly or menial occupants may
have possessed them, wdll probably fôrèver remain a profound
mystery. Their ancient occupants have crumbled to dust.
We found skeletons in a few of the niches, but they were evi¬
dently of recent deposit. The Rabbins sáy, "that when the
dead shall live again. Mount Olivet shall be rent asunder, and
all the dead of Israel shall come out thencé;" When that takes
place, ^ho of the ancient worthies will sptihg up from the
moidering dust of these lone, subterranean fegions? Omnis¬
cience alone can tell..
Glad to escape from the stifling air, and grim associations of
the charnel-house, we descended the hill, re-croSsed the Kidron^
climbed the rugged side of Mount Moriah, and Stood beneath
the Temple area, just where the Gate Beautiful, No. 16, once
opened its magniflcent portals towards the rising sun. The
outside of the wall at the corner is upwards of seventy-five feet
high, its base reaching down upon the hill-side. We passed
along under the wall towards St. Stephen's Gate. Near the
gate our attention was called to some huge stones in the base
of the city wall. These stones, it is admitted by all, are some
of the few remains of old Jewish masonry. They are all bev¬
eled in the peculiar style of the Jewish cutting, and amidst all
the overturns and devastating tides of ruin that have swept
over the city, have remained unmoved. Eive courses of them
are nearly entire. One of these stones is twenty-three feet
nine inches long, three feet thick, and five feet two inches wide.
Others are from seventeen to twenty feet. Probably some of
these immense rocks of the- southeastern wall '^ere laid in the
places they now occupy by Solomon himself when he prepared
96
THE HOLY LAND.
the Temple area. " Master," said the disciples as they went on*,
of the temple, "see what manner of stones, and what buildings
are here." Though this seems to have been spoken more par¬
ticularly of the temple itself, it might also apply to the outer
walls.
- Leaving Gethsemane upon our right, a sacred spot we are
soon to visit, we passed around the northeast comer of the city,
towards the Damascus Gate. The hills on this side of the city
melt away into gentler slopes ; there are none of those deep ra¬
vines that form the great natural defenses of the other sides
of the city, and it is not until you get some distance north and
ascend the high ridge of Scopus that you can overlook any
portion of the city. This being the most defenseless side of
the city, from this way its enemies have generally made théir
approaches. On yonder ridge of Scopus Titus had his camp,
and from this point commenced the siege which ended in such
fearful ruin to the city. As I passed along these localities I
could not but think also of old Nehemiah, in the days of the
Babylonish captivity, when he came stealthily by night, crawl¬
ing about among the ruins of the demolished walls, laying his
plans for their reconstruction. A Uttle to the northeast of Da¬
mascus Gate we were taken to
THE OROTTO 07 JEREMIAH.
A large portion of the hill here has been removed by the
quarryings of ancient times, and this grotto has been cut in the
southern side of a rocky ledge, now fenced in, with a garden
and dwelling-house in front. The gate is kept by a dingy Arab,
whose obstinacy nothing but the all-potent backsheesh could
move. A shilling set gates and doors all wide open, and gave
.-us free access to every avenue. It is a spacious, romantic place.
In one corner was an opening into an inner cavern, containing
a large fountain and a reservoir of water. But for what are
we here, but to see the place where Jeremiah wrote his lamenta¬
tions? There in that deep, dismal corner of the great cavern,
high upon that rocky bed, is the very spot—" they say." I
climbed up to the top ; a deep indèntation in the rock, precise¬
ly the shape of a man's back from the shoulders downward.
ANCIENT TOMBS.
97,
was identified as the very place where the old prophet lay,
mourned and wrote. I lay down and adjusted my back to the
hard mold, aud found it an excellent fit. Poor old seer ! If
he was compelled to lie here till his aching back had thus in¬
dented the hard rock, no wonder that his productions, for the
bitterness of their sorrows and the depths of their pathos, have
o»»tained for him the name of the weeping prophet !
visits to othkr tombs.
We have not done yet with the ancient tombs of Jerusalem.
There are several extensive and magnificent ones about the
head of this valley of Jehoshaphat. It seems to have been the
ambition of ancient heroes, not only to rule while living, but
to have a secure and quiet resting place when dead. Conscious
that grim death would wind his leaden arms about them, and
lay them to rest in his silent dominions, they hewed to them¬
selves costly mausoleums, where they hoped to rest undisturbed.
How few of them succeeded ! The hand of the invader, more
ruthless than death himself, has sought them out, and where is
the tomb that has not long since been opened and plundered ?
The more laborious the passage and curious the art of conceal¬
ment, the more expectation was excited and avarice stimu¬
lated in hopes of finding hidden treasures.
The Tombs op the Judges are not far from us to the north¬
ward. They are extensive excavations in the rocks—^rooms be¬
yond rooms, and chambers beneath chambers, with tiers of re¬
cesses for the honored dead. On another occasion, I went out
to them with two of my companions, provided with torches,
and walked through the gloomy halls. All traces of those who
once slept here have disappeared. Who occupied these vaulted
chambers, who wept for them, or sang their requiem, none can
tell. These tombs received their present name from a tradi¬
tion that the members of the Jewish Sanhedrim were buried
here, but of this there is no certainty. They face the west, and
have a magnificent sculptured entrance, ornamented with flow¬
ers and other devices surrounding flaming torches. From
these we turned to the most elaborately wrought sepulchres in
^11 this region—the Tombs of the Kings.
98
THE HOLT LAND.
They are nearly north of the Damascus Gate, very neai
where the old wall made its northernmost angle. Dr. Bar¬
clay has thoroughly explored them, and being with us will be
our guide. They are also called the " Tomb of Helena" from a
supposition that they were intended for this renowned princess.
Why called Tombs of the Kings, it is difficult to tell, unless
they belonged to the Herodian times, for the kings of Judah
were buried on the southern side of Zion. To show the skih
and labor expended on these tombs, we here introduce the ac¬
companying diagram :
Approaching the place, yoa find a huge trench or road cut
out of the rock, down which you pass till you are eighteen feet
))elow the surrounding surface. Here you pass a doorway,
through a wall of native rock seven feet thick, into a large
t>pen court, excavated also from the solid rock, ninety-two feet
long, and eighty-seven feet wide, a section of which is seen at
TOMBS OP THE KINGS.
99
No. 1 of the diagram, the walls all hewn smooth and perpen¬
dicular. The bottom of this court was, no doubt, a smooth
floor of rock, but it is now incumbered with piles of dirt and
stone. On the west side of this court is an open doorway,
twenty-seven feet wide, leading into a spacious vestibule. No.
2, thirty-nine feet long, seventeen feet wide and fifteen feet
high. This vestibule, like all other portions of the building, is
excavated from the solid rock. The sides of the doorway were
once ornamented with' pilasters, and two stone columns, now
broken dowo, divided the entrance into three equal spaces. On
the rock above the entrance are some elegant sculptures—large
clusters of grapes between garlands of flowers, intermingled
with Corinthian capitals and other decorations. Tracery work
of flowers and fruits extend across the portal and hang down
along the sides. I was surprised to see how well this exquisite
carving had been preserved amid the wasting influences of time
and the ravages of reckless barbarians.
The floor of the inner chamber. No. 4, is nearly three feet
lower than the floor of the vestibule, and is entered by a low
doorway. No. 3. This doorway was so ingeniously contrived,
as, in the days of its perfection, to have almost entirely baffled
the search of the curious who might wish to find it. It would
be impossible to give an accurate idea of this by any mere
verbal description. It is ceiiainly, as one says, " one of the
most ingenious and remarkable pieces of mechanism handed
down to us from antiquity." This entrance was beneath a trap
door, concealed by flagging-stones; while the landing under it
was a deep well, into which one had to descend to find the pas¬
sage. This wonderful doorway has now been broken up, and
the entrance so filled with dirt and stones we had to get down,
and, serpent-like, work our way through. Succeeding in this
we stood in room No. 4. This is only an ante-room, and not
intended for burial, eighteen and a half feet by nineteen. Here
the Doctor called our attention to another ingenious device for
securing the safety of the tombs. On the inside of this strange
doorway was originally hung a ponderous stone door. It could
be easily pushed open by the person entering, if he had suo
ceéded in finding the hidden passage; but after being opened
100
THE HOLY LAND.
was so contrived, by being hung upon an inclined jamb, that
it would swing to from its own weight, and could not be opened
from the inside; and the intruder might find himself in a dis¬
mal dungeon, left to perish with the moidering dead about him,
without the possibility of escape.
From this ante-chamber a low doorway opened into Ko. 5,
a room eleven feet by twelve, having six niches in the walls, in
which to lay the bodies of the dead ; another passage opened
into a similar room. Ko. 6, thirteen feet by thirteen, having
also receptacles for sarcophagi or bodies. On the west another
passage way opens into Ko. 7, thirteen and one-fourth feet
square, which appears to be the most important room of all,
having three crypts on each of three sides, north, south and
west ; some of these crypts öpen into still smaller chambers for
tombs. The doorways of these rooms were all secured, like
the one first mentioned, by heavy stone doors hung upon the
inside, shutting of themselves, and opened only from the outer
passage. Fragments of these doors, some of them ornamented
with carvings, may still be seen in the rooms. Along the sides
of these rooms are small channels cut in the floor to carry ofl"
any water that may drip from the ceilings ; the walls are square
and handsomely chiseled, but not polished.
From the southwest corner of Ko. 6, a flight of steps de¬
scend into a lower chamber, Ko. 8, lying partly beneath Kos. 4
and 8, ten feet by twelve. On each of three sides of this room
are large arched niches for the reception of sarcophagi, and
such undoubtedly once occupied thom. They were of beauti¬
ful white marble, elegantly sculptured with flowers and wreaths;
but they have been torn from their resting places, broken in
pieces, and scattered about the room. From the north side of
Ko. 7, a flight of steps leads to a similar lower story chamber,
Iving far beneath the surface, and, like the former one, having
the remains of once beautifully sculptured, but now broken
sarcophagi scattered about it.
Such is the construction of these elaborate tombs, so far as
they have been explored. Lying, as they do, all upon the south¬
west corner of the vestibule, suggested to Dr. liobinson that
tiiere must be others upon the opposite side. He set several
EDINBD TOMBS.
101
men at work to clear away the^ubbish', to see if be could not
discover some opening in tbat direction ; but all tbeir efforts
were in vain. Still tbe Doctor tbinks tbere may be sucb
entrance, but so adroitly concealed as yet to baffle all research,
[t bas often occurred to me since visiting tbe place, tbat as tbe
well at No. 3 was made in part to conceal tbe entrance to these
chambers, and mislead explorers, it might also be connected
with some secret passage in an opposite direction. "Whether it
has ever been thoroughly explored with a view to tbe settle¬
ment of tbat question, I do not know, but presume it has rot.
But we have groped about these ruined, plundered tombs
long enough. How eloquently they speak to us, not onlj of
tbe vanity of human greatness, but tbe insecurity of both tbe
living and tbe dead. Tbe good and tbe brave, tbe mitred
priest and tbe sceptred king, may here have sought a secure
and quiet resting place ; but tbeir secret chambers have been
laid open, tbeir costly sarcophagi dashed in pieces, and tbeir
dust scattered to tbe winds of heaven. Tbere is no secure
biding place but in Him who says : " I am tbe resurrection and
tbe life." Standing in bim while we live, entombed in bim
when we die, we may banish our anxieties about tbe fate of
tbe frail tenement of clay. It may sleep in tbe deep, dark
caverns of earth, or be inhumed in tbe fathomless waters of tbe
mighty deep, or be burned and scattered like tbe dust of the
summer threshing floor ; it shall not be lost—tbe eye of Omni¬
science will watch over it—it shall live agafin and live forever.
EXCAVATIONS BENEATH THE CITT.
We bad still one more place of interest to visit as we left tbe
tombs and turned our steps toward tbe city. These were tbe
wonderful excavations discovered by Dr. Barclay beneath tbe
city. Tbe knowledge of these appears to have been lost, and tbe
Doctor bad no intimations of their existence ; it was only by a
singular circumstance be discovered tbe entrance to them. On
one occasion, returning from a walk, as be approached tbe Da¬
mascus Gate, be found bis dog barking furiously, and digging
under a portion of tbe wall a little east of tbe gate. He soon
discovered tbere was an opening under tbe wall, closed up by
102
THE HOLT LAND.
a pile of loose dirt. Fearing to make any examinations by
daylight, lest he should excite the jealousy and opposition of
the Moslems, he closed up the aperture and returned to his
home. But his curiosity could not sleep over the discovery.
"With some members of his family, duly equipped with torches
and shovels, he returned, under cover of night, and soon
enlarged the aperture, so that one after another they slipped
under the wall. The wonderful discovery they made there, the
Doctor has brdnght us to this place to show ; so let us slip in
with him through the narrow opening, and light our torches.
First, we see an immense roof of stone, like a great ceiling,
over our heads. An immense heap of dirt appears to have
been shoveled in here, evidently intended to close up the pas¬
sage, but it has settled down two or three feet, so that we cán
crawl over the top of it, bumping our heads occasionally against
the stone ceiling above. This great mound of earth reaches
from seventy-five to one hundred feet. As we went clamber¬
ing over it, the air seemed filled with smoke, and soon a light
made its appearance ahead. " What can it mean ? " says one.
We approached, and found a miserable looking Arab man and
woman, with two or three ragged children, sitting around a fire
they had kindled with a few sticks. They were evidently a
miserable vagrant family, who, having no house or home, had
crawled in here to find temporary protection. We now went
down a steep descent upon the opposite side of this great pile
of loam ; the cavern deepening upon us, and expanding into
unknown dimensions, in the thick darkness of which the glim¬
mering light of our tapers died away in the distance without
any obstruction to refiect it. It was darkness fearful ; silence
profound and awful. Then we came upon huge piles of the
chippings of stones, where workmen of unknown times had
labored in giving proper shape and form to the quarried masses.
Large pillars of the native rock had been left at suitable inter¬
vals to support the ponderous ceiling.
On we proceeded, slowly and cautiously. Suddenly the
Doctor's warning voice arrested our attention: "Hold, don't
go Uhere! " A sudden halt. "And what's here. Doctor? " "A
frightful precipice and chasm." We looked beneath us, but
CAVE BENEATH THE CITY.
103
fioald see nothing except an impenetrable pall of darkness,
black as Erebus. The Doctor's sounding line had been there
before us in his former explorations. The pit here is deep and
the sides precipitous. The Doctor assured us that in his former
explorations, on reaching the bottom he found a human skeleton.
Some poor fellow—who or when none will ever know—had
found his way in there, stumbled over the precipice, and as
examination showed, broke his skull in the fall—Skilled and
sepulchred in these mysterious vaults.
In one place, where we came to the termination of a great
chamber, we stopped to contemplate the unfinished work of
the ancient quarrymen. Here were great blocks of stone,
partly quarried, still hanging to the native mass. One of these
was a perpendicular stone about ten feet high, and between
three and four feet square. The workmen had commenced by
cutting a perpendicular crease upon the two exposed sides,
about four inches wide, and had proceeded until it was about
two feet deep upon each side of the block. This must have
been eflfected by some long, pointed instrument, with a chissel-
shaped end. They had no gunpowder in those days to blast
the rocks, and they seem not to have understood how to split
them out with wedges, but they were literally chisseled out by
persevering labor. The work of cutting out this block was
nearly completed, for the two grooves, one from the front, and
the other from the side, at right angles with each other, had
been carried nearly to the necessary depth to allow the upright
mass to be pried from its resting place. The marks of the tool
were as perfect as if made but yesterday. But the workmen
left it and never returned. Why ? Who can tell ? What a
field for the rovings of imagination the question opens ! Was
it found just at that peculiar juncture that no more stone were
needed ? Did some besieging army encamp before the walls,
and the consternations of war stop the work of public improve
ments ? or did death palsy the stalwart arm that had so vigor¬
ously wielded the implement of labor ?
This great cavern lies under Bezetha. We spent some time
in wandering about the interior. Dr. Barclay tells us he meas¬
ured from the entrance to the termination, the longest way,
30
104
THE HOLY LAND.
seven hundred and fifty feet; and found it upwards of three
thousand feet in circumference. It was evidently the great
quarry from which the ancient inhabitants took their stone for
building the city. The material is a soft, white limestone,
easily worked, but hardening on exposure to the weather.
Here, no doubt, was Solomon's great quarry, from which he
took the stone for the Temple. The reasons assigned for this
belief are : first, the stone is the same as that of some portions
of the old wall still remaining; second, an opening could
easily have been made on the side of the quarry next the
Temple, and the stone conveniently transported to the Temple,
area; third, the immense piles of chippings foui.d in these
caverns show that the stone were not only quarried, but dressed
and finished here, corresponding with the account that they
were brought to the Temple ready to be laid in their places,
without the necessity of hammer or graving tool ; fourth, the
vast extent of the quarry, and the amount of stone that must
have been worked out there, and the size of some of the
blocks ; fifth, the extreme age of that part of this same quarry
lying outside of the wall, where extensive excavations have
been made, and which dates back in legends and tradi¬
tions to the time of Jeremiah; and, lastly, that there areno
other great quarries near the city from which the material
could have been taken. So here we are where Solomon's
workmen labored, and prepared the stones for the magnificent
Temple of God !
It is now a solemn and gloomy abode. Large numbers of
bats hang from the ceiling, and, aroused by your approach,
flit about your head. Occasionally a pile of bones, brought in
by the jackalls, arrest your attention, and the giving way of
the dirt beneath your /eet indicates the places where they bur¬
rowed. The water trickles from the lofty ceiling, and the lapse
of ages has hung the roof with sparry incrustations. The
Crusaders have been here, and traced crosses and other devices
upon the walls. Various emotions are excited as you wander
about by the light of your flickering tapers. You are aston¬
ished at tne extent of the excavations, awed by the grandeur
<)f the lofty ceilings, impressed with the pervading gloom and
RETUBN TO THE CITY.
105
nleuce, and bewildered amid the reveries the associations and
remembrances of the past inspire.
BET1TRN TO THE LIGHT OF DAT.
Here we are again amid the blazing sunlight of heaven,
breathing the tree air, fragrant with the perfume of the great
beds of wild flowers, that, despite the hand of neglect and
desolation, spring up all around the city. "What a time we
have had wandering among the cold tombs, and through the
vaulted, subterranean chambers of this wonderful city. "We
are now through with this, and will turn our steps to more
cheerful places, and our eyes to more pleasing sights. We have
soiled our garments, and the light lime dust of the vaults, like
flour, has been sifted over us ; the sun is creeping down the
western slope of Judah's hills, and we are admonished to seek
our homes.
It is pleasant to linger about thy walls, 0 Jerusalem ! How
every foot of thy soil seems hallowed by the sacred associa
tions of the past! The affections of the sons of Abraham
cluster about thee, and the Christian gazes long and earnestly
upon thy mountains and valleys, thy fountains and towers,
thy domes and battlements. But we must not linger here.
The gates close at sunset, and we must get within the walls.
Now watch, and you wiU have another instructive illustration
of Scripture in
THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK.
They have been out during the day wandering about the
hills and valleys, and now, as night falls gently on the land¬
scape, they seek safety and protection within the gates, where
the flocks are safely folded for the night. There comes a shep¬
herd with his numerous bleating family. A part of them are
white long-wooled sheep, and part black long-eared goats.'
Sometimes it becomes necessary to separate them. " Then shall
tie separate the righteous from the wicked, as a shepherd di-
videth his sheep from the goats." See: the shepherd goes
before, and the sheep hear his voice and follow him. Try and
imitate his call, and see if they will leave him. No! "A
lOd
THE HOLT LAND.
stranger will they not follow, for they know not the voice of
strangers." "What a striking illustration of our Savior's teach¬
ings ! How often, as I stood at eventide, and watched these
faithful shepherds leading their flocks to secure folds within
the walls of Jerusalem, my mind was carried forward to the
. close of this world's long day, and the approaching night of
eternity, when the good Shepherd shall bring his beloved and
redeemed flock within the gates of the glorious city of God,
and give them a secure resting place in the Jerusalem on high.
As they approach the gate, the armed sentinel steps aside to
give shepherd and flock a welcome admittance. " To him the
porter openeth." So I thought again, when the great Shepherd
with his redeemed flock shall approach the gates of the ever¬
lasting city, the voice of the omnipotent Jehovah will be heard :
" Lift up your heads, 0 ye gates, even lift them up ye everlast¬
ing doors, and the king of glory shall come in." How many
rich and instructive lessons we are learning as we wander about
this city—voices from the tombs, voices from the customs of
the country that for so many generations have remained un¬
changed.
We have had a laborious, but an interesting and instructive
day. We have seen and learned much, thanks to the kindness
of Dr. Barclay ; we shall remember him with gratitude for the
aid he has rendered us in this and other walks about the city.
We must get in before dark. One of the police regulations of
the city forbids any person being in the streets after dark, un¬
less he carries a lantern. Darkness and crime are supposed to
be hand in hand associates. "Let your light so shine that
others may see your good works." So as we have no lantern,
and it is getting dark, we will hasten along, first through the
street of Mount Zion, then up the Via Dolorosa, across the
street of the Patriachs into the Christian quarters, an<i, thence
to our convent home.
THB VAST or BAMEDAN.
Saturday Evening, March 23. Take your Bible and come
with me upon the house-top, and let us spend the closing hour
of day in reading and meditation. The sun is just sinking
ON THE HGTJSB-TGP.
107
away in the clear, blue, western sky—Slower and lower—^he Is
out of sight. Hark ! the thundering boom of cannon from the
old citadel of David rolls over the city, and echoes back from
Zion and Olivet. Scarcely has the sound died away in the dis¬
tance ere the air is rent with the vociferations of a clamorous
multitude—the shout of the many thousands of men, women
and children that congregate in the Mohammedan quarter of
the city. It is one prolonged and deafening strain, rising even
above the cannon's roar. "What does it mean? This is the
time of the great fast of ßamedan, imposed by the Prophet on
all the faithful. It occurs always at this period of the year,
and continues one entire lunar month, commencing with the
change of the moon. The fast is held each day from sunrise
to sunset. Neither smoking, drinking or eating is allowed.
Shops are kept open, and business goes on as usual, though
many of the more devout carry their beads and count off an
extra number of prayers.
At sunset the rigid fast of the day closes, and the night is
given up to drinking, feasting and revelry. The gun we heard
was the sunset signal ; the multitudinous shouts that rent the
air were the acclamations of joy at the announcement of the
hour that lifted the ban, and opened the door for sensual indul¬
gence.
To-morrow will be our first Sabbath in Jerusalem. It is
Palm Sunday, and we shall have an opportunity to visit the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and witness some of the impos¬
ing ceremonies there ; but more than that, we shall stand ou
Calvary, and visit the sepulchre where the Sañor was laid.
IOS
THE HOLT LAHD.
CHAPTER V.
Palm Sunday—Calvary—The Holy Sepulchre — Rbligiouh
Ceremonies, and Holy Places.
March 24<A. A Sabbath in Jerusalem ! Hail, holy morning,
hail! In ancient times the returning Sabbath m Jerusalem
brought a calm and holy day of rest. The gates were shut;
the tumult of business ceased ; the haunts of pleasure were de¬
serted; the voice of mirth was hushed, and the solemnity of
the day of God rested on Olivet and Zion. All conspired to
impress the dweller in the city of God with the stem reality
of the sacred law: "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it
holy." Alas, how changed! The commandments of the
Prophet bring no hallowed day of rest. While Moslem and
Jew pursue their accustomed avocations, we will join with the
Christian population in their observance of the day. There
will be Protestant worship at the rooms of the American con¬
sulate at 2 o'clock; we will spend the morning hour at the
Church of the Holy Sepuldire. It is
palm sunday.
The Catholic Christians will observe the day with appropri¬
ate ceremonies. A little more thdn eighteen hundred years
ago the Savior was at Bethany, on the opposite side of Olivet,
on his way to Jerusalem, to unite in the feast of the Passover.
As he came from Bethany around the slope of Olivet towards
Jerusalem, his friends set him on a colt, and the multitude took
branches of palm trees, and came forth to meet him, crying,
"Hosanna to the Son of David." The celebration to-day is
the anniversary of this last entry of the Savior into Jerusalem,
just before his sufi'ering and crucifixion. A short walk from
SUNDAY IN JERUSALEM.
109
Aiir convent, marked upon the plan of Jerusalem by a *, brings
as to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, marked with a f, the
reputed
PLACE OP TUE OaUOIPIXlON.
If there is any ground about Jerusalem that may be consid¬
ered holy, we are now approaching it. K there is one spot on
earth more sacred than another, it is the place consecrated by
tlie blood of Jesus, and hallowed by his repose in death. But
is this really the place? N^o one of the so-called "Holy Pla¬
ces " has been the occasion of fiercer disputes and more pro¬
tracted debates than this. Eminent men have been arrayed
against each other, and still the question is an open one. As I
have said before, in coming here I did not expect to settle these
controverted questions of geography and topography, of sites
and dates. Dr. Robinson, upon the one side, and Mr. "Williams
upon the other, have said all that can well be said ; and to them
the captious or disputatious reader is referred. Tradition has
marked this as the site from the very earliest ages of the Chris¬
tian era. There has never been a time, even during the days
of fiercest and bloodiest persecution, that some faithful ones
have not lingered around this great center of Christian attrac¬
tion. The memory of Jesus was at once embalmed in the af¬
fections of his disciples. Would they, or their successors, have
been likely to have forgotten the place where transpired the
last great act in the sacred drama that gave life and hope to a
ruined world? Besides, why need we doubt, where faith can
do no harm ? If it be right to revere the memory of an earth¬
ly friend ; to plant fiowers upon the grave ; to adorn the spot
where sleeps a dear father, a sainted mother, or a beloved
child; to go there, and even weep there, can it be wrong to
hallow the spot where the best and dearest of alP friends laid
down his life for us ? or is it idolatry to build a shrine to his
memory ? In visiting Calvary and the Sepulchre, I did not
wish to go laden with a burden of distracting and unprofitable
questions. I preferred to give memory the free use of her an¬
gelic pinions, that I might be borne into the very presence of
my bleeding Savior; to look upon him with an undimmed eye
110
THE HOLY LAND.
of faith ; to feel that I was standing beneath the very drop-
pings of his blood, upon the very soil that witnessed the last
great struggle, when he came forth victorious from the battle—-
the triumphant conqueror of death. Come, then, with me tc
Calvary and the Sepulchre.
The devout Christian visitor, as he seeks the place where the
Loid died and was buried—looks for the hill of Calvary, the
garden and the rock-hewn tomb—^has pictured in his ima^na-
tion some retired place of rugged rock and sloping hill, of sol¬
emn shade and gloomy glen, where nature yet wears her wild
and unpruned robes. How deep his disappointment as he ap¬
proaches the place, and finds the hand of art has so trans¬
formed and disguised it! The sacred locality is now all cov¬
ered over and inclosed within the fort-like walls and massive
dome of an enormous church. The Holy Sepulchre is en¬
shrined in casements of polished marble, surrounded by great
wax candles, and hung with pictures, images, crucifixes, and
gold and silver lamps. The city, with its walls, lanes and
houses, closely encompass the place, excluding every appear¬
ance of natural scenery, while the court of the church is made
a great bazar for the sale of beads, rosaries, amulets and rel¬
ics. It seems difficult at first to rise above these strange sur¬
roundings, and feel that here was once the wild, rugged soil of
Calvary, and the cultivated garden of Joseph, in which he had
hewn for himself a tomb. This great pile of buildings is
THE CHURCH OF THE HOLT SEPULCHRE.
The history of this church is a long one, and as varied as the
fortunes of the city, of which it is now one of the most attrac¬
tive features. It appears that when the devoted Helena, moth¬
er of Constantine, came to Jerusalem seeking to honor the
memory of the Savior, there stood upon this spot a heathen
temple dedicated to Venus. This, it is supposed, had been
built by pagan Romans out of hostility to Christ, and with a
view of so defiling a place revered by his devoted followers as
to make it an abomination to them. This pagan shrine was
torn down by order of Constantine, and a Christian church
erected upon the spot, commenced A. D. 325 ; completed A. D.
VISIT TO CALVAEY.
Ill
835. Tbte Christian monument stood two hundred and se ren-
ty-nine years. In A. D. 614, it was entirely destroyed by the
Persians. Sixteen years after, it was re-built upon a still larger
and more magnificent scale. A spacious rotunda, with a huge
dome supported upon twelve massive columns, was built around
and over the Sepulchre, and a portion of the church was ex¬
tended over Calvary, covering the* supposed place of the cruci¬
fixion. This was an age of superstition and of blind devotion
to relics, and other chapels were built, extending in different
directions, in honor of other supposed sacred localities.
This pile of buildings, that had been enlarged and adorned
by successive dignitaries of church and state, was demolished
and made a complete heap of ruins by the bigoted Caliph Ha¬
kim, in 1048. Thirty-eight years tbe hard hand of Moslem
despotism held in check the desire of the Christian to again
adorn Calvary and the Sepulchre. Then the work of recon¬
struction commenced, but many hindrances and embarrass¬
ments impeded the enlargement and prosecution of the work.
In the year 1099, the Crusaders took Jerusalem, and under
Christian rule, the church was remoddled, enlarged, enriched,
and new shrines added. The subsequent fortunes of Jerusa¬
lem did not seriously affect the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
It remained as the Crusaders found and improved it till 1808,
when the calamity of an accidental fire accomplished what war
had often done. The great rotunda was destroyed ; the huge
dome fell in, piling its burning- timbers over the canopy of the
Sepulchre. The external wall of marble that had been built
over it was reduced to lime, but the Sepulchre itself escaped
unharmed. Phcenix-like, the majestic dome again arose from
the ashes of its former ruins, and the church, as it now stands,
was dedicated in 1810.
THE CHURCH AS IT NOW IS.
1
The massive doorway by which entrance is obtained is on
the south, and is reached by a very narrow and crooked street,
crowded with merchants' stalls. This approach to the build¬
ing is considerably higher than the ground floor, and a descent
by a hroad flight of rude stone steps brings us into an open
11^ THE HOLY LAND.
paved court. This eourt appears to be a great mart»of mer
chandiâein "holy" things—a sort of Christian exchange, where
beads, crucifixes, and relics of every kind are spread in tempt¬
ing array before the pilgrim visitors. As you enter this court,
the whole front elevation of the massive structure is before
you. The woric is heavy, but it has a grand an i imposing as¬
pect. On the right and left of the court are portions of the
walls of the Greek convent, which is built in immediate con¬
nection with the church. In one comer rises the massive bell
tower, an imposing pile of stone, the top of which appears to
be in a dilapidated condition. It is said to have been formerly
five stories high, but is now reduced to three. The great dou
ble doorway is surmounted by an antique looking arch, with
deep moldings and elaborate carvings. On the architraves are
richly wrought sculptures, in bold relief, representing our
Lord's triumphal entry into Jerusalem. But we will not loiter
upon the threshold. Let us enter and examine first
THE INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH.
One of the first things that arrests our attention, is a guard
of twenty to thirty Turkish soldiers, in the uniform of their
country, armed with guns to which gleaming bayonets are
fixed. Some of them stand by the doorway, and you pass be¬
tween them as you enter. Others are loitering here and there
through difierent portions of the great structure. "Why is
this? The Turks are the rulers and guardians of the city, and
the government may be said to be a militaiy despotism. Here
are thousands of Jews, thousands of Christians, and thousands
of Mohammedans. Among them are a great variety of con¬
flicting opinions and interests. Deeply rooted prejudices and
jealousies are constantly sowing seeds of uneasiness and dis¬
content, and a terrible harvest of discord and contention may
at any moment be the result. The reins of government are
held with a tight hand. Turkish soldiers guard the gates, a
police of Turkish soldiers promenade the streets by night and
by day, and Turkish soldiers gather about every place of pub¬
lic resort, and strange as it may seem, they keep the keys of
CHURCH OF THE HOLT SEPULCHRE. 113
.ni8 Christian church, and lock the doors at night and open
them in the morning.
Think also of the great variety of Christian sects that here
congregate—tnat under this roof, and in connection with this
immense pile of buildings, have their chapels, altars and para¬
phernalia of worship. One portion of the building belongs to
tlie Latins, or Boman Catholic Christians, another to the
Greeks, another to the Armenians. Here, too, are chapels of
the Maronites, Georgians, Copts, Jacobites, Abyssinians, and
other minor sects. While these all have separate portions of
the building where they have exclusive rights, some of what are
considered the more holy portions of the structure belong in
common to all, and they have to arrange among themselves
the time when each shall be allowed to perform at the conse¬
crated shrines their peculiar rites. These all are but men—
many of them unsanctified men—and it would not be strange
if controversies should arise. This is often the case, and at
times so fierce have these dissensions raged, strange as it may
seem, in the very temple of the Prince of Peace, and on the
very ground sanctified by his holy blood, these contentions have
broken out into fierce and unholy strife, and these soldiers of a
foreign religion have been under the necessity of quelling
bloody feuds at the point of the bayonet. Connected with this
church are a great variety Of
LEOENDS AND BUPEBSTITIONS.
We have already seen that this church was originally built
as a monument to honor the place of the Savior's crucifixion
and burial. During the long period of the dark ages, when
blind saperstition and wild fanaticism seem to have usurped the
throne of both sound reason and ardent piety, a mania for holy
relics and holy places pervaded the Christian world. The
sharp eyes of religious devotees discovered and connected with
this memorable locality numerous "holy relics," and "holy
spots," some of them of so foolish and puerile a character, they
could only provoke the mirth and awaken the contempt of the
enlightened ; some of them of a more grave and serious char-
114 the holt lanl.
acter, that seem still to retain a firm hold upon the more cred
ulous and superstitious.
Among the former of these may be mentioned the altar of
Melchisedek—the place where Isaac was ofiered—^the place
where Adam was buried, ànd from whence his skull leaped out
at the time of the crucifixion, and over which a chapel was
built—^the sweating pillar to which Christ was bound when he
was scourged—the pillar that casts no shadow at noon of the
summer solstice, thus indicating that it is in the very eerier of the
world—the silver cup which Christ used in instituting the Eu¬
charist, and the sponge the soldiers filled with vinegar and pre¬
sented to him on the cross, both of which one ancient pilgrim
says he saw and kissed—the, spear that pierced the Savior's
side—rthe prison oí the Savior—^the spot where Mary Magda¬
lene stood during the crucifixion, and where his mother and
John stood—the place where Jesus appeared to Mary after the
resurrection—the precise place where the soldiers cast lots for
the Savior's coat, etc., etc. What a list ! And yet, while many
have made a serious matter of these things, and involved the
whole body connected with them in an indiscriminate charge
of fanaticism or hypocrisy, of superstition and delusion, I do
not suppose that any but the most ignorant and credulous have
ever really believed in them, or been imposed upon by them.
Under the infiuence of an increasfhg intelligence, this list .of
holy wonders has been dwindling down ; some of them are no
longer shown, and others are not expected'to be believed, unless
by the most stupid and over credulous. And yet, with regard
to a few localities in this sacred pil% it may be said they have
assumed an importance, and the legends and stories connected
with them have become so interwoven with the traditions and
, faith of some of these Christian sects, they may be worthy of
special notice. One of these is
THK CHAPEL OF THE INVENTION OF THE 0B0S8.
This opens from the main body of the church into a rocky
vault, excavated in the hill side, twenty feet across. I find vari¬
ous versions of the story, and many strange incidents connected-
with it, but .the substance is about as follows : The devoted
DISCOVERT OP THE CROSS.
115
Helena, in her zeal to serve the cause of Christ, came to Jeru¬
salem about three hundred and twenty-five years after Christ,
gathering information upon all points connected with the his¬
tory and death of the Savior. Finding a belief prevalent that
the three crosses were thrown into ^ pit close by the place
where the suffering victims expired, she caused diligent search
to be instituted, and excavations to be made under her own im¬
mediate supervision.' Her zealous efforts, it is said, were
crowned with success. In this very pit, which now constitutes
the " Chapel of the Invention," three crosses were turned up,
and with them, Pilate's inscription, placed over the head of
Jesus. Some versions of the story also assert that four nâils
were found, supposed to be the identical ones upon which the
Savior hung. What became of two of these nails is not known.
The other two have a strange history. The devoted mother
had a costly crown wrought for her imperial son Constantine,
portions of which, more honored than gold and diamonds, were
wrought from these two precious nails ! Some accounts say
that the Savior's cross was distinguished from the others by the
inscription of Pilate, found in immediate connection with it;
others, that it was detached, and it could not be determined to
which it belonged, and the Savior's cross was discovered by the
following strange event : A lady in the vicinity was danger¬
ously sick ; the crosses were brought in contact with her. Two
of them had no effect ; at the touch of the third one she rose
immediately from her bed entirely cured ! The miracle was
conclusive ; the wood that had touched her, and that was in¬
vested with such wonderful power, was the true cross !
The story of the nails, and of the miracle, and some other
remarkable things connected with it, appear to be legendary
embellishments, to be received or rejected at one's option ; but
the principal fact of the finding of the cross by Helena, is gene¬
rally believed among Eastern Christians. I conversed, while in
Jerusalem, with an intelligent Catholic priest from Ireland, who
believed not only the story of the finding of the cross, but also
of the miracle of the healing of the sick woman. To such
ones—and I suppose there are many such—this Chapel of the
Invention of the Cross would of course be a revered and sacred
116
THE HOLY LAND.
place. This chapel belongs to the Latins, but the other secu
are allowed to visit it and worship in it. Then there is
THE CHAPEL OP HELENA.
This is a costly room, ajad decorated at great expense. It ;e
partly hewn in the rock, and is one of the most striking and
picturesque portions of the great church. It is sixteen feet
below the level of the rotunda floor, and is fifty-one feet by
.'brty-three. It is entered by a narrow doorway, and a flight
of twenty-nine steps, partly hewn in the rock. The interior is
arranged in the form of a Greek cross, the only light enter¬
ing through a cupola in the roof. The cupola and roof are
supported by large, thick, dwarf-looking columns, with huge
capitals of ancient Byzantine form. In this church is an altar
dedicated to St. Dimas, the Penitent TTtief, and another one to
St. Helena. The entrance to the Chapel of the Invention is
from the south side of this, and is entered by a descent of
twelve steps, hewn in the solid rock. I have described these
two chapels, to give the reader some idea of the various depart¬
ments here clustered together, that make up the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre. Here, clustered around one spot, and under
one great mother roof, is Mount Calvary and the Garden ; the
Chapel of the Sacrifice of Isaac ; Chapel of the Altar of Mel-
chisedek; Chapel of St. Helena; Chapel of the Invention-,
Chapel of the Three Crosses; Chapel of the Division of Gar¬
ments; Greek Choir, occupying the center of the world; the
rooms of the Latin Convent ; Greek Convent ; Chapel of the
Maronites; Chapel of the Geor^ans; Chapel of the Copts;
Chapel of the Jacobites ; Chapel of the Abyssinians ; Chapel
and rooms of the Armenians, and, the great central place of
attraction, the monstrous rotunda and dome covering the Holy
Sepulchre. It is, indeed, a great collection of churches and
chapels; of choirs, naves, vestrys and transepts; of shrines,
altars and sanctuaries—the great Cathedral of the Christian
world—where lights are always burning, incense always smok¬
ing, the voice of chanting and praise always resounding.
But we came here to witness the ceremonies of worship, and
to visit the two great time-honored localities of the place, the
PALM SUNDAY.
117
Cross and tñe Sepulchre. Having taken a general survey of '
the building, let us attend to what is passing around us. The
great rotunda is sixty-seven feet in diameter. The dome is
supported on eighteen massive piers, and has a large opening
m the top, through which a flood of light is poured upon the
interior. "We said it was Palm Sunday—one of the great fes-"
tive days of the year. It is the commencement of passion >
week, the near approach of Easter. Pilgrims are now assem¬
bling in Jerusalem from all parts of the Christian world. See
what a motley crowd are here gathered. The floor of the
great rotunda, the galleries above, the aisles and transepts
Reading away to the different chapels, seem one living mass of
human^beings. Here are all nationalities, all shades of com- '
plexion, all forms and hues of dress. In the midst of the gener¬
al confusion, each is permitted to speak his own tongue, to
worship in his own way, to resort to the shrine that best ac¬
cords with his own peculiar religious views. Armed soldiers
move about among the multitude to preserve order. How
changed the scene from eighteen hundred years ago! Then
soldiers stood around the dying Son of Grod, to aid in consum¬
mating the murderous deed ; now, around this same spot they
gather to protect those who would do him homage. Then the
multitude cried: "Away with him! Crucify him! Crucify
him ! ! " ]^ow they sing :
"All hail the power of Jesus' name,
Let angels prostrate fall,
Bring forth the royal diadem
And crown Him—Lobs of All."
But while a;ll conspire to honor Jesus, who, amid this uni¬
versal confusion, this clangor of human voices, and jargon of
discordant sounds, can maintain a devotional spirit, or be im¬
pressed with the solemnities of worship? The Greeks had
formed a long procession, encircling the whole rotunda, car¬
rying costly and curious banners of various devices, represent¬
ing scripture scenes. A large company of boys went before,
having lighted candles ; the dignitaries of the church wore red
silk and damask robes, profusely trimmed with gold lace. Some
carried censors smoking with incense ; others sprinkled conse-
118
THE HOLT LAMO.
crated rose-water upon the crowd ; another bore an immense
cross of burnished gold, while the Patriarch, arrayed in sump¬
tuous robes, wore upon his head a crown studded with jewels,
and sparkling with diamonds, richly set in gold. In the Latin
department of the church was an equally rich display of costly
robes and dazzling banners, while the whole multitude carried
branches of palm, waving them in the air in unison with their
songs of triumph. The Greek procession commenced a solemn
march round the rotunda, singing in a peculiar nasal strain,
destitute alike of melody and devotion. The loud peals of the
Latin organ came mingling its echoes with their sharp, drawl¬
ing, mouthing strains. The Abyssinian priest beat his cym¬
bals ; the Armenian uttered his prayer ; the Syrian read, aloud
his Arabic ritual ; the Coptic friar drawled in plaintive tones his
devotions ; lawless spectators walked about, gazing and talking;
from the lofty galleries above, and the deep subterranean
chapels below, there seemed to issue a strange jargon of con¬
fused and unintelligible sounds. Such was the scene I witness¬
ed upon my first introduction into the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre. It was Palm Sunday. It was the celebration of
Christ's triumphal entry into Jerusalem ; one of the great fes¬
tivals of the church! Was it devotion, that, like holy incense,
could rise to Heaven? Was it music, to which angels could
tune their harps ? Had Jesus sat on yonder brow of Olivet, as
he sat on the day the procession led him to the city, would he
not now, as then, at the sight of a system of worship that had
lost its spirit and power, have wept for the glory departed?
But we have another errand here. Forgetting all this osten¬
tatious display, closing our eyes to this glittering pageantry,
let us seek the place where our Savior died, and give ourselves
up to the emotions such a place is calculated to awaken.
Pushing my way through the crowd, I reached the side of the
rotunda, and ascended a flight of twenty-one steps upon the
Bide of Calvary to
THE PLÂOE 0? THE OBUOIEIXIONI
We often hear Calvary spoken of as a mount. It is not so
called in the Bible, neither-is the term hill there apphed to it.
MOUNT CALVARY.
119
it seems to have been upon a slight elevation, rather upon the
side of a hill. How high the elevation was, or what its orig
inal shape, it seems impossible now to tell. The suçamit and
sides of the elevation have been graded down, and the depres¬
sions filled up, to accommodate the surface to the immense
church that now covers it. The hill, like all others about
Jerusalem, is a mass of limestone rock.
Having ascended the steps, I entered a low vaulted chamber,
with a marble floor. It belongs to the Greeks, and is deco¬
rated in a most gaudy style. The walls are adorned with pic¬
tures, massive wax candles rise from their stately sockets, and
a profusion of gold and silver lamps are suspended from the
ceiling. It is the Chapel of the Crucifixion! At the eastern end
is a platform, ten feet long and six feet wide, elevated about
eighteen inches above- the floor. On this platform stands a
richly decorated altar; under it is a round hole in the marble
floor, cased with silver ; beneath that hole is the reputed spot
upon which the cross of Jesus stood! This may be defining
the locality too dfeflnitely to suit the skeptical visitor, and yet
that this is Calvary, is believed by a large portion of the
Christian world, and has been believed from the days of the
earliest written records upon the subject, and those records
were based upon the current faith of the then Christian dwell¬
ers at Jerusalem. "Why need I attempt to disprove it? I
might wish to strip it of these artificial appendages and adorn¬
ments—to a devout worshiper, they add nothing to its at¬
tractions. But I will close my eyes to all these gaudy traj)-
pings of human genius and art, and, aided by the visions of
a holy faith, endeavor to see it as those saw it who came .with
the blessed Savior to witness his last scene of earthly agony
and torment. 0 Calvary I thou art least of all the sacred hills
that cluster about the City of God, and. yet thou art greatest
of them all! Thou art invested with a moral grandeur and
glory that belongs to no other spot. Thou hast witnessed
agony such as even Gethsemane never knew! Thou hast
witnessed a power that rent the rocks, opened the tombs,
and shook even yonder mount of God, rending asunder the
consecrated veil that concealed the Holy of Holies! Over
• 31
120.
THE HOLT LAND.
thee gathered an appalling darkness, and yet from thee ha«
gone forth a radiance that is kindling earth into glory! Ü
Calvary ! what a scene thou didst witness when darkness gath¬
ered around thee, and the dying Son of God cried out in
anguish : " My God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken me I "
And yet, what lessons thou hast taught us—of holy resig¬
nation—of calm and patient sufiering—of forbearance and
forgiveness—of love for the disobedient and the erring when
Jesus hung upon thy summit, and thou didst receive thy holy
consecration of blood ! 0 Savior ! on this spot what indignities
were heaped upon thee I "WTien was ever good requited with
greater evil, or love with keener hatred than when thine ene¬
mies here nailed thee to the cross ? Yet as the heavens gath¬
ered blackness, and the darkness of injustice and oppression
thickened upon thee, it only served to add lustre to the halo
of thy moral glory, like the evening star, shining brighter and
brighter, as the shades of night deepen upon it I
THE HOLT SEPULCHRE
Is the next place of attraction. John says: "S'owinthe
place where he was crucified there was a garden ; and in the
garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid.
There laid they Jesus, therefore, because of the Jews' prepara¬
tion day, for the Sepulchre was nigh at hand." (John xix. 41,
43.) This places the Sepulchre in close connection with the
Cross, and we have not far to go. Descending the fiight of
steps by which my ascent to this place was made, and which
would be the hill-side, were these portions of the building torn
away, I was once more in the great rotunda. It was for the
Sepulchre this great rotunda was built, and beneath the center
of that spacious dome is the consecrated place. Much would I
preferred to have seen it in the unadorned simplicity of the
morning of the resurrection. From the very depths of mj
'Heart I could say :
" OI for that garden in its simple guise,
Where she, the earliest of His mourners came—
Came ere the stars of Syria's cloudless skies
Grew pale before their morning burst of flame."
THE TOMB OP JESUS,
121
But we have to visit these places as they are, not as we
would have them. And why should we vex and fret ourselves,
oecause worldly pride, and love of ostentatious show, or even
•jigotry and superstition, may have spent their misguided zeal
upon them, and gathered foolish relics and legends about them ?
Should they hinder the warm adoration of the pious heart ?
Do they detract aught from the conclusiveness of the evidences
that define and establish the locality? Supposing the Christian
traveler, on his arrival at Jerusalem, inquiring for the place
where Jesus was entombed, should be shown a rocky recess in
some out-of-the-way, secluded place, ruined and neglected, sel¬
dom visited by the foot of man. What would he think?
"Who," he would say, "has kept the history of this place?
In my own land the tombs of the common dead are better kept
and cared for, and for our honored ones we build mausoleums,
and rear up monuments. If this is the place where He, the
conquering son of God, was laid, why is it thus deserted and
neglected?" Would not the very fact of such neglect and ob¬
scurity do more to shake his faith in the certainty of the local¬
ity, than all the superstitions and legends that cluster about
this place could ever do ? True, the devout worshiper, in com¬
ing to Calvaiy as it is, would not
" Miss the gold encrusted shrine,
Or incense fume's intoxicating spell."
To him the wandering breezes of heaven might bring music
richer than the organ's notes, and the palm-trees' shade be more
welcome than yonder lofty dome; but the "proud shafts of
Helena's Oolonade " need not disturb us, or render unaccept¬
able to God the incense of a grateful and adoring heart.
THE SEPULCHRE AS IT NOW IB.
Though the Sepulchre was originally a grotto cut in the
rock, after the fashion of the Jewish tombs, the visitor is sur¬
prised to find it not only detached from the hill-side, and all
above ground, but elevated a step or two from the level of the
floor. The necessary changes that were made in the level of
the ground to accommodate the church, accounts for this. The
122 THE HOLY LAHD.
earth and rock around the Sepulchre have been cut away, and
what was probably once a cave in the hill-side, now looks like
a small room or closet above ground. Nor is this all; the hand
of art has still more transformed it. This rock-hewn cave,
standing as it does in the center of the great rotunda, and direct¬
ly under the eye of the monstrous dome, is all covered over by a
small building of yellow and white marble, twenty-six feet long
and eighteen feet broad ; a dome in the form of a crown sur¬
mounting the top. This house of the Sepulchre is profusely
ornamented ; the whole exterior nearly covered with pictures,
crucifixes and images, and hung round with gold and silver
lamps, while standing by its side are several monstrous was
candles, nearly as large as a man's body, and eight or ten feet
high.
I passed through a low, narrow opening in the wall, only
large enough to admit one person at a time, into a small cham¬
ber, ten or twelve feet square. This was the outer room or ves¬
tibule of the tomb, and is now called the " Chapel of the An¬
gel," from the supposition it was here the angel sat after hav¬
ing rolled away the stone. At the western side of this room
was a low, narrow door, the opening to the tomb itself. Like
Peter of old, I first stooped down and looked in ; then bending
nearly to the ground, and crowding'through the opening, I
was in the Holy Sepulchre ! It is a small room, six feet one
way and seven feet the other, and has a dome roof, supported
by marble pillars. Though this vault is said-to be hewn in the
rock, not a vestige of the native rock is to be seen. The fioor,
walls and ceiling are all lined with white polished marble.
Forty-two lamps of gold and silver, richly wrought, are sus¬
pended about this little grotto, kept continually burning, fill¬
ing the place with a flood of mellow light, while much of the
time the sweet fragrance of smoking incense fills the air. But
what were all these things to me? Where was the place they
laid him ? A little couch or elevation of stone, about two feet
high, runs along the right side of the tomb as you enter, now
covered by a plain marble slab. As this was intended for the
reception of the dead, on it, no doubt, the body of the en¬
tombed Savior was laid!. What pen can describe the deep
THE HOLT SEPULCHRE. 128
emotLODS that trembled in the heart, and suffused the eye as I
gazed upon the spot ? Falling upon my knees, I leaned my
head upon the marble covering, and poured out my soul in
grateful adoration to God. I had promised my people I would
remember them and pray for them when I stood on Sinai, and
when I bowed by the tomb in the garden. Amid the sub
lime grandeurs of that mountain-top I had stood, and there I
had redeemed my pledge, and now that I had reached this hal¬
lowed spot, I was not unmindful of my vow.
My visit was brief. A throng of pilgrims was coming and
going, crowding the little sanctuary, and jostling against me.
But 1 heeded them not. How much of the past—of the fu¬
ture—was crowded into the reflections of that short season of
communion with the Son of God, as I bowed my head upon his
tomb ! I saw his mangled, bleeding form taken from the cross
on yonder hill-side, and borne by his afflicted* disciples to this
lone receptacle of the dead. I saw the ponderous stone rolled
to the door. 1 heard the tread of the watchful sentinels as
they paced to and fro. What a weary and- sorrowful Sabbath
was that to the heart-broken and disconsolate disciples ! With
anxious hearts, the weeping Marys watched the approaching
dawn, that they might come and embalm the body of their be¬
loved Lord. But while night läy upon Olivet and Gethsemane,
and sleep had hushed to silence the tumultuous city, this lone
sepulchre of the dead was the last great battle-fleld of the con¬
quering Son <ff Gôd. Here he grappled with 4eath, the last
enemy of man, in his own dark dominions. The last stern con¬
test was over; the victory was won; death was vanquished, and
the prey wrested from his grasp. The victorious conqueror
came thundering at the door , of the tomb. An angel from the
courts of glory answered the summons. A greater than Pilate
broke the seal, and rolled back the massive stone. The trem¬
bling, terrified keepers fell senseless to the earth. Who is this
that comes forth from the contest, majestic in mien, glorious in
apparel, his arm vested with the power of Omnipotence, and his
eye kindled with the glory of Heaven? It is thy God, 0 Is¬
rael! It is thy Savior, 0 Christian! The great question has
been settled; life and immortality brought to light! A great
124
THE HOLT LAND.
highway has been opened from the portals of the grave be¬
neath, to the everlasting gates of glory on high.
"Lo^ see on death's bewildering wave
The rainbow Hope arise,
A bridge of glory o'er the grave,
That bends beyond the skies."
"O death; where is thy sting? 0 grave, where is thy victo¬
ry? Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory, through our
Lord Jesus Christ."
My visit to the Holy Sepulchre was ended. I arose from my
knees, and leaving the marks of my tears upon the marble
slab, I slowly and reluctantly turned away, but not as the be¬
reft and sorrowing one, who leaves behind the moidering dust
of beloved kindred or friend. I left behind me, 0 rapturous
thought ! an empty tomb. I heard the soft rustle of an angel's
wing, and a voice of unearthly sweetness whispered in my ear :
" He is not here ; he has risen and I turned and looked up¬
ward and fancied, like Stephen of old, I saw heaven opened,
and this same Jesus arrayed in the glory of Paradise, sitting at
the right hand of God. I passed out of the church, leaving the
heterogeneous mass of worshipers and loiterers behind me, for
I cared but little for their pompous ceremonials.
The afternoon was spent in attending worship with the few
Americans in the city, at the rooms of the American Conéul
on Mount Zion. Rev. Mr. Hewman, of Hew York City,
preached. Little did the minstrel monarch of Israel think,
when he tuned his harp to the inspiration of Zion's songs, that
when three thousand years had rolled away, strangers from a
then far off and unknown land, would assemble over the very
ruins of his entombed palace, and sing those same songs to the
'praise of David's Lord and David's Son. The twilight hour
was spent in wandering about Zion, telling her towers, marking
her bulwarks, and musing upon her glory departed.
March 25tk. We have now an interesting week to spend in
Jerusalem. With the Jews it is the anniversary of the Pass¬
over ; with the Christians, of the betrayal and crucifixion of the
Bon of Man. It is the week in which multitudes of pilgrims
throng the city, crowd around the "Holy Places," and gather
SIGHTS IN JBRUSALifiM. 125
in crowds at their great central Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
We shall have some interesting walks ahout Zion. Mr. Staf
ford, the Irish monk before spoken of, has consented to accom
pany us in the walk to Gethsemane, Olivet and Bethany. At
the appointed time we passed down the Via Dolorosa, past the
Pasha's Palace, which is supposed to occupy the site where
formerly stood the house of Pilate. Hear the Temple area we
turned a little to the right to view the ruins of an old pool,
(plan of the city. Ho 15,) now known as the
POOL OP BETHESDA
It IS also called the Sheep Pool. The Apostle John says :
"How there is at Jerusalem by the sheep-market a pool, which
is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches."
Here, we are informed, lay a great multitude of diseased people,
one of whom Jesus miraculously healed. This pool tradition
aow makes the scene of this interesting incident of the life of
the Savior. There is, however, no very reliable evidence con¬
necting it with that event. It is a great reservoir, the main
body of which is three hundred and sixty feet long, and one
hundred and thirty-one feet broad ; another portion of it, for¬
ty-five feet broad, is continued one hundred and forty feet
further. The walls are built of stone, and were originally
strongly cemented. The cement is now broken off in many
places, the walls fallen in, and portions of it filled with dirt.
Ho pains have been taken to preserve it, and at the present rate
of decay and the rapid accumulation of rubbish, it will soon be
added to the entombed remnants of the ancient city. It was
once a noble and costly piece of art, and was probably sup¬
plied with water from some of the subterranean aqueducts of
the city.
DISOOVEET or AN ANCIENT AQUEDUCT,
Begaining our road, we turned again to our left, to where the
Christians are dig^ng to lay the foundations of a new monas¬
tery. Considerable interest had just been excited by the dis¬
covery, some distance below the surface, of an ancient aqueduct,
in a good state of preservation. It was a noble piece of work,
120
THE HOLY LAND.
built with great care and skill. The walls were of stone, and
arched over head high enough for a man to walk erect; along
the bottom on one side was a cemented channel for the water,
about eighteen inches deep and as many broad ; on the other
was a raised pathway, along which a man could walk in a
stooping position, without at all coming in contact with the
water. The whole was smoothly cemented, and the cement
appeared as hard and perfect as when first put on. It led off
in the direction of the Temple area. "Who built it? It is as
old, perhaps, as the days of Solomon. A current of water was
still flowing along this subterranean channel, and I could not
but think these might, perhaps, be a portion of the very waters
that aided in supplying the reservoirs beneath the ancient tem¬
ple, and perhaps still connected with the ebb and flow of those
mysterious pools we have been visiting in the valley below.
Certain it is, no city in the world ever had such bountiful and
perfect water arrangements as ahcient Jerusalem. In all the
sieges to which it was subjected, when famine did its horrid
work of death, the inhabitants seemed always to have a full
supply of water. Even when the besiegers without the walla
perished of thirst, there was no lack in the city. Some of
these supplies were probably from living fountains beneath the
city ; some of them may have been brought from abroad, but
so adroitly concealed as to baffle all the search of the enemy to
discover them. Here, no doubt, as we have seen before, is the
origin of many of those beautiful figures and allusions, in
which the sustaining presence of God is represented under the
idea oí waters—of living waters, of hidden water, of drawing
waters from the wells of salvation—of Ezekiel's wonderful
stream, of John's vision of the river of the water of life, cloai
*as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and the Laiiib—
the waters of which we sing:
" There ia a atream whoae gentle flow
Snppliea the city of our Ood
Light, life, and love still gliding through,
And watering our divine abode."
INTERESING LOCALITIES. 127
Parsing on, we left the city by St. Stephen's Gate, No. 3
We had passed but a few rods beyond the gate when our cice¬
rone suddenly stopped us, and pointing to a little rise of ground
close upon our left: "There" said he, "is the place where we
suppose
STEPHEN WAS STONED."
It had not occurred to me that the name of the gate had any
connection with that memorable event that sealed the fate of
the first great Christian martyr to the faith of Jesus. As dif¬
ficult as it must be to identify the spot, my interest was awaki
ened at the bare mention of the place. I ascended the little
hillock, paused upon the spot, and at once imagination formed
her tableau of the thrilling scene—the infuriated rabble ; the
murderous blows of stone after stone ; Saul holding the gar^
ments of the persecutors, and consenting to his death ; the dy¬
ing man on the one hand praying for his murderers, on the
other, catching visions of his glorified Savior. Is it possible, I
said to myself, I am so near the scene of these wonderful
events; perhaps standing upon the very ground that was
stained by his blood !
From this point we made a rapid descent into the Yalley of
Jehoshaphat. A bridge some fifteen to twenty feet high is
here built over the bed of the Kidron. Crossing this, one itf
the first objects to which our attention was called, was the
TOMB AND CHAPEL OP THE VIROIN.
Ilere is the reputed Tomb of the Virgin Mary, and over it a
church has been built. It is an antique looking structure, and
time has left upon its venerable stones the aeep lines of age.
Situated in the deep, narrow valley, and imbedded in the brow
of Olivet, the deposits of the valley and hill-sides have accumu¬
lated around it, until it has become almost a subterranean chapel.
First we descended by a short flight of steps into a broad
paved court. Here a spacious arcned doorway stood betöre us.
We found the door opened, as if inviting entrance. We made
a long dèscent of sixty stone steps, and found ourselve« in a
spacious, gloomy looking chapel, mostly, if not entirely, exea-
128
THE HOLY LAND.
vated in the rocky hill-side. On the left of these stairs is
shown the tomb of Joseph, the husband of Mary. The chapei
is decorated in the most ga|Udy manner. The rndely-drawn,
high-colored pictures of the Greeks adorn the walls, buncnes
of flowers and great clusters of ostrich eggs were hanging
nere and there, while a multitude of dazzling lamps of gold
and silver were suspended from the ceiling. Of these lamps I
counted more than sixty in the main room, aside from those
that hung in the niches and recesses that opened from the
sides. The solemnity and gloom of the place was increased by
the light of these lamps, reflected through glass shades of va¬
rious hues.
But where is the Tomb of the Virgin? Pass over to the
eastern side of the grotto, into its deepest extremity; there you
will see a little separate chapel, and in its gloomy shade an al¬
tar, the whole more profusely decorated than any other portion
of the room. That altar stands connected with, a tomb; that
tomb, " they say," is the place where the body of the mother
of our Lord was laid ! To this I could see no objection, for
that she died and was buried any one could safely assert. But
remembering that my Franciscan friend was one of those who
ofler prayers to the Virgin, as actually standing by her son in
heaven, I was puzzled to know how to understand the matter,
and took the flrst opportunity to ask an explanation: "You
say this was the place where the Virgin was buried ; in what
sense do you understand her to be in heaven? "In body, of
course; like our Lord, she was not left to see corruption."
"But how; was it A resurrection and ascension like our Lord?"
"No, she was assumed into heaven." "Assumed! Hbw?'*
" Her body was taken up entire, by Divine power, and received,
without undergoing any change, into heaven." "Is there any
evidence," said I, "of so wonderful a miracle ? " "The tradi¬
tions of the church," he replied, "and the fact that in the as¬
cent she dropped her girdle, which was seen and picked up by
Thomas, and preserved as a memorial of the event!" I pre¬
sume he believed the strange chronicle, but as I found nothing
of it in the Book, I remained more than skeptical. We passed
out of the church, ascended a part way up the long flight of
SÂGBED LOCALITIES.
129
atepS; when he called us aside, drew a large iron key from his
pocket, and applied it to the lock of a strong iron door in the
hill-side; it swung back upon its rusty, creaking hinges, and we
stood within another large cavern, wholly excavated from the
rock. This, he says, is
THE OaOTTO or THE AQOHT.
This spot I found was exclusively the property of the Latins.
The Franciscans keep the key, and our friend had brought it
along on purpose that he might introduce us to this "holy
place." It was a large, low cavern, of irregular shape, chiseled
in the solid rock, full sixty feet across, the low, rocky roof sup¬
ported here and there by columns of the native rock left for
this purpose when the excavation was made. It is a singular
looking cave, and has a low ledge of rock running around a
large portion of the sides, as if intended for seats. Here, also,
is an altar, lamps, candles and pictures. This altar is said to
mark the spot to which the Savior retired, where he prayed,
and where he endured his last agonizing struggle before he was
betrayed into the hands of his enemies. That this spot is upon
the borders or within the precincts of Gethsemane, seems quite
certain ; that the Savior went into a grotto, or that it was on
this immediate spot that he endured that agonizing struggle,
must be a matter of mere conjecture. We emerged from the
grotto, ascended the steps, and stood again in the open com
mon. Here, undoubtedly, was
THE GARDEN OT GETHSEMANE.
Of all the localities About Jerusalem, aside from Calvary,
there ^s none that stirs the Christian heart with such a thrill ot
emotion as Gethsemane. It is fortunate, too, that its localitj
18 so plainly indicated by the scripture narrative, and by the
nature of the ground, as to leave little doubt in the mind of the
visitor that he has found the place. Jesus went forth with his
disciples over the brook Kidron to a garden, where he oftimes
resorted with his disciples. There is here, on the east of the
Kidron, and close under the brow of Olivet, a large, open
space of ground, reaching along up the valley to the north
130
THE HOLT LAN».
ward, still covered with grass and shaded with olive trees.
The very nature of the ground, and its proximity to the city,
would point it out at once as a suitable place for a park or
public gardens. It was probably a common place of resort for
pleasure and recreation, for meditation and worship. It was to
some quiet, shady retreat in this spot of ground, Jesus was ac¬
customed to resort with his disciples; here many a precious in¬
terview they enjoyed together; here the Savior came the even¬
ing before his crucifixion; here he spent that hour of keen snf>
fering and awful agony, when the cup of wo was presented to
his lips, and his sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood &11-
ing down to the ground.
THE INCLOSED OABDEN.
Just as you cross the Kidron, and commence the ascent of
the path that leads up the Mount of Olives, you see upon your
right a small patch of ground, covering, perhaps, near half an
acre, inclosed with a strong stone wall, eight or ten feet high.
It is deeply shaded by eight venerable old olive trees, and
planted with beds of flowers, and various kinds of shrubbery.
This beautiful and carefully guarded spot is in the keeping of
the Franciscan monks, and is the place usually pointed out
and described, in the books of travelers, as the " Gardm of
Gethsemane," and some surprise has often been expressed that
these religious guardians should have been able to locate with
such accuracy the precise spot of the garden. I asked my kind
attendant for a solution of the query. He replied : " We do
not pretend to say this is the garden any more than other por¬
tions of ground that lie in this immediate vicinity. The
garden was here, and there, and all about this locality. You
, see these great old olive trees. We built this wall to {»otect
them; and had it not been for our care, such is the seal of
pilgrims to carry away'some little keepsake fix>m this hallowed
ground, they would long ago have torn these trees to pieces,
and not a vestige of them would now have been left." The
explanation was certainly reasonable and satisfactoiy, and I
¡»ut it on record to refute the allegation I find in some of the
hooks, charging these persons with so definitely locating the
Garden of Gethsemane
A Street in Jenualem.
UOUNT or OLiyBft
GARDEN GE GETHSEMANE.
133
jafden as to throw suspicion upon its identity. " How old,"
said I, "are these olive trees?" "They are known to be
nearly a thousand years old," said he. " Some," he continu¬
ed, "have supposed them to be the very ones under which the
Savior sat, but I do not think that can be. The olive, however,
very often perpetuates itself by sending up fresh shoots
from the roots of the old decaying tree ; in that case, the roots '
of these may be more ancient, and these trees may have sprung
up from the very ones that sheltered Jesus and his disciples."
It was an interesting thought, that these time-honored trees
linked us so closely wHh the days of the Savior, and the
thrilling events of the agony and betrayal. There is a small
aouse in the inclosure, where one of the monks usually lodges.
W^e wandered some time among the shrubbery, plucked some
of the flowers for our specimen book, and what was still more
acceptable, before we left the convent, one of the monks
presented us a rosary, made from fifty of the stones or pits
of the olives that grew upon these same old trees. We ac¬
cepted the string with many thanks, not because it was a ros¬
ary, but for its associations with the hallowed ground that had
witnessed the agony, and been watered with the tears of the
Savior of men.
Although our guide had so fairly explained the reason for
inclosing this spot, there were other localities, with regard to
whi«îh we could not but confess our skepticism. "Here,"
said he, as we passed a certain place, " is where the disciples
slept while Jesus prayed."^ Passing another place: "There,y
where you see that little inclosure, is where Jesus taught his
disciples how to pray." I observed, leading from the corner of
the inclosed garden, a narrow path, much worn, and walled in
on each side, terminating abruptly at a large rock. People
were constantly going up the path, falling down on their knees,
and kissing the rock. " What place is that ? " said I. " By that
rock," he replied, "Jesus stood when Judas gave him the
treacherous kiss." "How," said I again, " do you know these
localities?" "We do not know," he replied; "we have only
tradition ; these traditions have been handed down to us, and
we receive them as the best information we have pa the sub
134
THE HOLT LAND.
ject." The degree of faith in these traditions no doubt vanes
very much with different persons ; no one is required to believe
them. They serve, however, to remind one of the leading
events of that gloomy night that made Jesus a captive in the
bands of his enemies.
THE ASCENT OE OLIVET.
Leaving the garden, we commenced the ascent of the Mount
of Olives. This mountain lies directly eaSjt of the city, from
which it is separated by the deep valley of Jehoshaphat. Its
bight above this valley varies from five hundred to seven hun¬
dred feet. It is a little more than one hundred feet higher than
Mount Zion, and near two hundred and fifty feet higher than
the Temple area on Mount Moriah, so that it overlooks the
whole of the city. The Arabs call it Jebel et Tur. The sum¬
mit directly east of the city is the traditional place of the
ascension of Christ. It slopes down beautifully toward the
valley of Jehoshaphat on the west, and again toward Bethany
on the east. Viewed from Zion, it has a most beautiful and
graceful outline, and is one of the most commanding objects
about Jerusalem. This hill, once so beautifully covered with
gardens and olive orchards, now presents the same desolate
aspect that forms so prominent a characteristic of Jerusalem
scenery. Of the palm trees of the valley, not a single one ie
left, and the two gigantic cedars that once stood near its sum
mit have disappeared. Only a few scattering olive trees are
seen upon its sides, and an occasional fig tree takes root in its
scanty soil. Great bowlders of variegated fiint are scattered
about in every direction, while here and there a little patch of
ground, inclosed by a frail and tottering wall of stone, is sown
to barley.
There are three paths leading from Jerusalem over Olivet.
One is a foot-path, leading directly op the mountain side;
another, and easier one, the common road for beasts of burden,
leads around the southern brow of the mount; while still
another, but much less used, winds around the northern slope.
As we ascended, I stopped on the way to gather some portions
of a low, thorny bush, from which many suppose the mock
MOUNT OF OLIVES.
135
crown of the Savior was made. The monks of Mar Saba
manufacture and sell to pilgrims, crowns from airee that bears
a long, sharp thorn, which they believe to be the kind used on
that occasion.
Just 1'elow where we are ascending, and near the base of the
mount, the place is still pointed out where, in the days of
the temple service, the red heifer was sacrificed and burnt, fron
the ashes of which the waters of purification were prepared.
(Num. XIX.) By one of these paths too, probably the one
upon the right, David ascended when he was forced to fiee
from the city under the rebellion of his son Absalom. This
afflictive incident in the life of the renowned monarch is pa¬
thetically portrayed by the pen of inspiration. Absalom had
managed his plans so adroitly, the court of Israel was com¬
pletely taken by surprise. The rej)orts of the wide-spread re¬
bellion, like peal after peal of thunder, came rolling in from the
surroimding tribes. The power and extent of the rebellion
seems 'to have been greatly magnified, and the king and his.
servants made a hasty fiight from Jerusalem. David and his
associates passed over the brook Kidron, along this pathway
they climbed the mount. " And David went up the ascent of
Olivet, and wept as he went up, an.d had his head covered ;
and he went barefoot; and all the people that were with him
covered every man his head, and they went up weeping as
they went." (2 Sam. xv. 30.) The result we have seen in
another place, and within our very sight now stands the pillar
of Absalom, and all who pass by revile his name.
At last we gained the summit of the hill, and found upon
the top of it a little Arab village of fifteen or twenty miserable
hovels, a Turkish mosque, surmounted by a tall" minaret, and
at a little distance, a dilapidated Christian structure,.known as
the Church of the Ascension. From the minaret of this
mosque we had one of those sublime and extensive views of
the land that strikes every beholder with admiration. Here we
stood, nearly two thousand eight hundred feet above the waters
of the Mediterranean, and almost four thousand feet above
those of the Dead Sea The mountains of Jerusalem were
clustering (Jose around us. Gethsemane, Jehoshaphat and
32
136
THE HOLY LAND.
Kidron seemed under our feet ; the walls and domes and miua<
rets of the city lay glistening in the sunlight. Far away to tho
Boutli rose up the high, conical peak of the Frank mountain,
encompassed by a multitude of smaller hills, and rising amid
them all Beth-haccerem,. where Herod had. his paradise, and
where it is said his execrable bones are now interred. To. the
north and northeast was lieby Samuel, or Mizpeh, once the
great rallying place of Israel, its summit now crowned with a
Moslem mosque ; while about it clustered many other interest¬
ing localities—Gibeon, whose inhabitants beguiled Joshua into
a league of peace ; the valley of Ajalon, where, at the command
of Joshua, the sun and moon stood still in the heavens;
to the right of them the white barren cliffs of Michmashj.the
rocky glens and deep, gloomy ravines of liamah, Geba. and
Anathoth. Having feasted your eyes on these, you turn and
look eastward. What a scene opens to your wondering vision !
There the hill country of Judea—the wilderness^—lies before
you in all its gloomy sterility ; a mountainous region, broken
into bluffs and crags, whose deep and yawjiing chasms form a
fit hiding place for Bedawin robbers and beasts- of prey. Here
3'óur eye wanders to the bleak looking mountain of Quaran-
tania, where the Savior, fresh from his baptism, endured his
terrible temptation, and achieved his first great moral victory.
Beyond this, you look down into the deep vale of the Jordan,
fresh in beauty and fertility, with its long, snaky line of blue
waters, around which cluster a thousand interesting associa¬
tions. You follow its course along the dim distance, the width
of the plain gradually expanding, until youreye catches a view
of a portion of the waters of the Dead. Sea, that wonderfiil
monument, that entombs beneath its dark and leaden, waves,
the burled cities of the plain. Beyond all these rise up
in dark and sullen grandeur the mysterious mountídns of
Mpab, the region beyond the Jordan,^ on. one of who-se bold
eminences the haughty Balak stood when he called Balaam:
" Come curse me Jacob—come defy Israel." Almost instinct¬
ively you search out the highest peak, and as your eye rests
npou it, you exclaim: "There is Pisgah! On that sublime
Idgbt stood Moses when he took his survey of the Promised
mo o í) r 0!F olives. 137
Land ! " TVhat remarkable sights are before us, and what wou-
d(;rful visions of the past rise around us as we stand upon this
lofty summit and enjoy this extensive prospect. Were there
nothing more than this, a half hour on Olivet would well repay
a long and weary pilgrimage.
But Olivet has associations and lessons of a deeper interest.
The path up which we toiled has often been pressed by the feet
of the Son of God ; beneath the shade of its olives and vines
he sat and taught his listening disciples ; the garden beneath
US was the scene of his agony. But more than this, it is the
Mount op Ascension ! Forty days after his resurrection he led
his disciples out as far as Bethany, and while he talked with
them he blessed them, and a cloud received him up out of their
sight. And while they stood astonished and awe struck, angels
in white apparel stood by them : "Ye men of Galilee, why
stand ye gazing into Heaven ? This same Jesus which is taken
from you into Heaven shall, in like manner, return again from
Heaven." 0 Olivet! stepping-stone from which the victor¬
ious Son of God went back to glory, lifting thy majestic form
above all the mountains around Jerusalem, it was fit thou
fihouldst be honored above them all ! From the garden at thy
base, to the place of ascension upon thy summit, what a radi¬
ance of glory clusters about thee ! Mount of Ascension, with
thee is associated the hope of glory ; thou givest us assuranco
of the life everlasting !
138
THE HOLY LAND.
CHAPTER VI.
Excursion to Bethany—Good Friday—Easter Sonday ai
the Holy Sepulchre—Mount Moriah and the Temple.
The last chapter left us upon the summit of Olivet. A sub¬
sequent excursion was extended to the opposite side of the
mountain. The eastern slope is more irregular, and has not the
barren and neglected look of the western. Large patches of
the soil are cultivated, olive trees are more plenty and have a
more vigorous and flourishing appearance. "We made the ex¬
cursion on foot, for we felt it was an honored privilege to walk
over ground every step of which has been trodden by patri¬
archs and apostles, ay, by the blessed Savior himself! We
continued down the direct path from the summit, narrow and
rocky, but deeply worn, for it has known the friction of human
feet for four thousand years. Hear the base of the mount, nest¬
ling close under the brow of the hill, deeply shaded with olive
trees, we found Bethany.
It now contains only about twenty houses, built of Stone, all
looking old and time-worn. The Arabs call it El-Aziriyeh, from
El-azir, the Arabic form of Lazarus. Thus with the very name
of the place is now associated the remembrance of the family
whose connection with Jesus has given it its interest and im¬
mortality. As we looked down upon it, how appropriate the
words of the poet seemed :
" And this is Bethany I and here ahode
The favored family whom Jesus loved;
To whose warm, humble welcome, 't was his wont,
Tracking the path that now I passed along,
Oft to retire from foes and wavering friends.
VISIT TO BETHANY
It seems a humLle village ; few its homes,
And few and poor its dwellers ; cottage roofs,
Except one simple turret, are they all I
Yet, save the neighboring city, it were hard.
If Palestine were searched, to find a spot
On which the Christian traveler should muse
"With fonder interest than Bethany."
We made a descent upon the rear of the village, climoed
over a low, tottering stone wall, and found ourselves in a little
patch sowed to harley, and thickly shaded with venerable old
olive trees. An amiable looking old man, with a long Turkish
robe and a heavy turban, that certainly aided in giving him a
very dignified aspect, came out to meet us, with an inquiring
look, as much as to say : " 0 Franks, why trespass ye upon my
grounds?" We met him with a friendly, "Salaam Alakoom,"
Peace he with you, and he returned the salutation. He carried
in his hand a Mohammedan rosary of olive wood beads, on
which he was counting his prayers, for it was Eamedan. I
took it in my hand and said-, bacomdee ? (how much) at the same
time ofiering him an English sixpence. He took the sixpence,
and passed me over the beads, and I added them to my collec¬
tion of curiosities. Observing an Arab knife hanging by a
chain fpdm his belt, with a steel for striking fire, bodkin, etc.,
I made him -another offer, and for twenty-five cents pocketed
the entire fixture. We then motioned to him to cut each of us
a caue from his olive trees; to this he objected for some time,
but at lasit, with a backsheesh of a quarter a dollar apiece,
we overcame his scruples.
Passing on through the village, another person offered to
show us the house of Mary and Martha, and the Tomb of Laz¬
arus. As to the house, we could; of course, place but little re¬
liance on its genuineness, and the same may be said of the one
shown us as the house of Simon the leper, where Mary anointed
Jesus' feet. The tomb is a deep, dark vault, mostly excavated
in the solid rock. A low door at the entrance, and a dilapi¬
dated, winding stairway led us down into a chamber, from
which another door opened, and a descent of a few steps
brought us into an inner chamber or small vault, in which the
140
THE HOLY LAND
body of Lazarus is said to have lain. Of course, the only
evidence that sustains its identity is the uncertain tradition,
but as one says, " the tomb must have been somewhere in this
vicinity."
Bethphage, " the House of Figs," that sacred writhas so close¬
ly connected with Bethany, has perished, and its site is a mere
matter of conjecture; but Bethany, "the House of Dates," re¬
mains, and long will remain, the Laziriyeh of the Arab, to re¬
mind the visitor of the simple gospel narrative, and the God¬
like power of the Son of man in recalling to life the tenement
of the tomb. Here Mary and Martha, with Lazarus their
brother, enjoyed their quiet home. In yonder tumultuous city
Jesus spent many weary days about his Father's business, and
when night came down on city and mountain, with this devoted
family he found a blessed place of refreshment and rest. Laz¬
arus was taken sick while Jesus was in Galilee. With tender
afiection the sisters watched over him while they sent a mes¬
senger to the Master : " He whom thou lovest is sick," Hours
and days of anxious toil and watching pass, and the afdicted
sisters close their brother's eyes in death, wondering why Jesus
does not come. Al^laet his approach is announced. What an
illustration of simple, confiding faith is that, when Martha met
him, and struggling to suppress the deep emotions of her grief,
exclaimed: "Lord, if thou hadst been here my brother had
not died." And what a lesson in the answer, confirmed by the
subsequent Omnipotent act of the Savior : " Thy brother shall
live again." Here were the incipient unfoldings of that great
doctrine of life and impaortality the Savior came to reveal.
Leaving Bethany, we took the road around the southern
brow of Olivet to return to Jerusalem. And now we were upon
'ground connected with another deeply interesting incident in
the ife of the Savior—^his triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
Here the colt was procured and the grand procession formed-
Uere they broke ofi' branches of palm trees and spread their
garments in the way. Over the road along which this shouting
multitude passed we were now to walk. A short distance
bronght us upon the southwestern slope of the mount, where a
turn in the road, as it led around the hill, brought us suddenly
BETHANY.
THE TEIUMPHAL PROCESSIOH. 143
in full siglit of Jerusalem ! The whole city, as seen in the accom¬
panying Cut, like a great panorama, lay before us, seemingly
but a few rods distant. It must have been just at this point,
and as the multitude that went before and followed after were
crying, "Hosanna, blessed be he that cometh in the name of
the Lord! " that the city all at once burst upon the view of Je¬
sus, awakening the emotions, and stirring the profoundest
depths of his sympathizing heart. He saw the city and wept
over it. "0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, if thou hadst known, even
thou, in this thy day, the things that belong to thy peace, but
now they are hid from thine eyes. The days shall come upon
thee that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and
compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and lay
thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee ; and
they shall not leave thee one stone upon another." The ap¬
plauding multitude had acclamations of praise for the King of
Zion; that honored king in his meekness and humility had
tears of compassion for the doomed city that lay in glory and
beauty at his feet. And well did he know how fickle the hon¬
ors of that multitude would prove. " To-day," he might say,
"they lead me in honor and triumph, crying. Hosanna, and
shouting blessings on my head ; scarce ten days will pass away
before this same multitude will cry. Crucify him ! crucify him 1 "
0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem! thou that killest the prophets and
stonest them that are sent unto thee, how terribly the prophetic
ieclarations of that Savior have been fulfilled! Those walls
upon which he then looked have been demolished, and stran¬
gers come and dispute about the lines upon which their found¬
ations were laid; thy children perished within thee, and thy
palaces were laid even with the ground; that wonderful and
costly temple has been utterly annihilated, and the devotees of
a strange religion have built their shrine upon its site ! Whose
record is this but the Handwriting of an omniscient and Om¬
nipotent God, so legible, all may read; so plain, none can mis-
unlerstand.
A JEWISH PASSOVEB.
Thursday evening of this week was the anniversary of the
144
THE HOLY LAND.
great Jewish Feast of the Passover. A German merchant of
the city, whose acquaintance we had made, kindly offered to
accompany us to the residence of a Jewish family, where wo
could witi ess their mode of celebrating the feast. His kind of¬
fer was gladly accepted, and about 9 o'clock we made our way
along the dark, crooked lanes of the Jewish quarter, and wen*
ushered into an upper room. Here we found a family consist-
ng of father, mother, mother's sister, four sons and a daughter,
and with them one of the neighboring women. Their exercises
had already commenced. They no longer Jcill the paschal lamb,
all their sacrifices having ceased ; the other accompaniments of
tlie feast, so far as circumstances would allow, were provided.
A common dining-table was spread with a cloth, a plate and
common drinking-glass for each person ; in the center of the
table was a large, flat, open dish, a bottle of wine, a thin cake
of unleavened bread, and a plate of bitter herbs, which I
thought were the stumps or bitter ends of lettuce stalks.
Around this table the family were seated, the women with
their bonnets and shawls on, the men with their overcoats and
«
bats, all in readiness to travel in accordance with the origir.al
design of the institution. They were provided with Hebrew
books, from which they read aloud, all reading at once. Occa¬
sionally the reading was interrupted, and one of the boys would
entertain them by the recital of some incident of Jewish histo¬
ry connected with their former bondage, and God's favor to¬
wards them.
After reading in this way for some time, the father took the
Dottle, and poured a small quantity of wine into each one's
glass. Ah interval of reading followed, when at a proper time
eacli took a swallow of wine, ana then all simultaneously
poured a portion into the large open dish that stood in the
center of the tahle, accompanying the act with an imprécation
that God would so pour out his indignation upon their enemies.
Another season of reading and conversation followed, when
the father broke the cake and passed a portion to each member
of the household, also extending the compliment to us. We
staid an hour or two, and then took our leave, assured by odr
A JEWISH PASSOVER.
14d
friend the exercises of the family would be kept up in this way
nearly or quite till daybreak.
We were highly gratified with this opportunity of witness¬
ing the mode in which the Jews at the present day celebrate this
feast. It is now, as it ever has been, a standing memorial of
God's interposition for the deliverance of this ancient people.^
The very tenacity with which this people adhere to these hoary
customs of antiquity is a striking evidence of the truth of the
written narrative. But how changed the scene from the days
of their former prosperity and glory. Their altar has been de¬
molished, their temple destroyed, and their sacrifices have
ceased. They have left to them only the unsubstantial bread
and the bitter herbs. Would to God their eyes might be
opened, that they might see in Christ the true Passover, sacri¬
ficed alike for Jew and Glentile !
OOOD FRIOAT IN JERUSALEM.
This is a great day among the Catholic population of the
fity. Many strangers have taken lodgings at our "Terra
Santa," among them some high dignitaries of the church, and
between fifty and sixty French military officers from Beirut.
This week, however, is rather a severe one to the Epicurian
portion of our boarders. Being the close of Lent, and the an¬
niversary of some of the most solemn religious events celebrated
here, the rigidness of the last was greatly increased. On Tues¬
day morning it was announced that no more meat would be
served during the week. IN^ot only were we deprived of meat,
but the omnipresent olive oil, always much used here, and
which but few in our far western country have learned to rel¬
ish, as a constant reminder I suppose of the grace of consecra¬
tion, was mingled with our soup, poured over our fish, and fried
into our vegetables. It might have been a week of severe
penance had we had no other resources. But not having the
fear of the sovereign Pontiff before our eyes, we, of course, wore
not overscrupulous if any fortune threw a good joint in our
way. Had we been put upon the confessional, as I suppose
some of our associates were, the damaging fact might have
tieen disclosed, that we did, contrary to the laws of the church,
146
THE HOLY LAND,
visit the tables of unbelievers and heretics, and then tn^d tbeie
indulge in fleshy appetites unbecoming a faithful ''era of the
church." True it is, whatever might have been ihe opinions
of those around us, we did not allow our liberty to be judgeu
by other men's consciences.
THE VIA DOLOROSA, OB BOBBOWEUL WAT,
On Friday at dinner it was announced that at 2 o'clock a
procession^would be formed at the " House of Pilate," to trav¬
erse the "sorrowful way" over which Jesus made his painful
journey from the place of his condemnation to the scene of his
cruciflxion Monks, bishops and priests, officers, soldiers and
pilgrims, were at the place at the appointed hour, and an intel¬
ligent inmate of the convent acted as guide and interpreter."
The House of the Pasha, or present Governor of Jerusalem, is
supposed to occupy the site of the old Palace of Pilate, aod
here is the commencement of this " sorrowful way."
I have been asked since mv return, how far it wat from
Mount Zion, or the probable place of the institution «,f the
supper, to Gethsemane. By the aid of Dr. Barclay, I am able
to give the following table of distances :
From ZioQ to Gethsemane 850 to 900 yarda.
" Gethsemane to the House of Annas 2300 to 2400 "
" House of Annas to High Priest's Palace 1400 to 2100 "
H. P. Palace to Council House....'. 200 to 400 "
" Council House to Pretorium (in Antonia)...... 350 to 400 "
" Pretorium to Herod's Palace 950 to 1000 "
« Herod's Palace back to Pretorium 950 to 1000 "
" Pretorium to Calvary 500 to 600 "
7500 to 8800 «
Thus during that fearful night of suflfering and the following
morning, the Son of God was led about, most of the time un
der a guard of soldiers, and suflpring their indignities, from
four to five miles.
In the walk we are now to take, we give the traditions aa
lield by the ]jatin church,v and as explained to us as we passed
the stations. Our attention was first called to an old, dilapi-
tod arch spanning the narrow street, one end of which is now
THE SORROWFUL WAT.
147
Inclosed in the walls of a Latin convent opposite the Pasha's
Palace. This is the " Ecce Homo Arch," the place, it is said,
where Pilate brought Jesus out and set him before the multi¬
tude and said : "Behold the man." Connected with this arch,
it is said, stood the " Scala Santa," a flight of stone stairs lead¬
ing to the Judgment Hall of Pilate, and over which our Savior
passed as he was led to the arch. This flight of stairs, as long
ago as the days of Constantine, were removed to Rome, and'
they are now there, covered by the bascilica of St. John Lateran,
and such is the superstitious reverence in which they are held,
no one is permitted to ascend them except upon his knees.
These we afterwards saw in our visit to that city.
In close connection with this arch is the "Church of the
Flagellation," or " Church of the Crowning of Thorns." Here
the devotional exercises commenced, a brief explanatory ad¬
dress was made, followed by a prayer, the whole company
kneeling. From this we passed a short distance and again
stopped. "Here," said our leader, "is the place where the
cross was laid upon him ;" moving a little farther, " Here he
fell down under the cross ; " stopping at another place, " Here
he fell down again, and the cross was laid on Simon ; " at the
next station, "Here he met his mother and said: 'Salve
Mater.' " On we went up the gentle ascent that led to Calva¬
ry. "Here a holy woman (St. Veronica) met him, and pre¬
sented him a napkin to wipe his face, now covered with sweat
and blood." Again, " Here he stopped to console the women
that accompanied him;" "Here he came in sight of the cross,
and overcome with agony in anticipation of his sufierings, again
fell to the ground." We had now reached and entered the
Church of tbe Holy Sepulchre. "Here they stripped him of
his raiment;" and "here they nailed him to the cross;" and
" here," as they surrounded the altar in the chapel of the cru¬
cifixion, "here they lifted him up, and here he died!" The
road we traversed was crooked, narrow and doleful—all its
gloomy surroundings in unison with the solemn associations
the events of the crucifixion were calculated to awaken. The
principal "stations" in this "Sorrowful "Way" are eight or
ten in number, besides several minor ones. At each of the
148
THE HOLY LA»D.
prominent oies an explanatory address was made, and a prayéí
offered, all the company devoutly kueeling upon the rough
pavement of the open street.
"And what,'' I hear you ask, "was the effect upon you as
you followed this company of worshipers, and listened to the
recital of their absurd chronicl¡es? Could there be any other
feeling than disgust at the pious frauds that had thus sought out
and given definite locality to scenes and places, the keenest hu¬
man research could never have discovered?'^ I cannot say the
events of the afternoon had any such effect upon my mind.
Little reverence as I had for their traditions^ and little faith as
T could exercise in their special' localities, the great prominent
events of that terrible scene of toil, trial and suffering, in the
closing drama of the Savior's life, seemed towering up in gi¬
gantic visions about me, eclipsing by their prominence every
minor consideration. The path from the Hall of Pilate to the
Hill of Calvary, whether along this particular track or not,
was once traveled by the suffering Son of God. As a con¬
demned culprit, he was led, hearing his cross; in weakness he
sunk beneath it, trembling under the awful pressure of more
than human agony. It was, indeed, a* sorrowful way" and
along it I walked under the deep and solemn impressions the
remembrance of the bloody tragedy was calculated to inspire.
I rose above all care or concern for the creations of human
fancy, or the invention of traditional legends, and thought only
of Him who " was delivered for our offenses, and raised again
for our justification."
the jews' place op wailing.
Besides'traversing the "Sorrowful' Way," we made a visil
to the spot where the Israelites are accustomed to assemble to
weep over the desolations of Zioü. It is strange how, at differ¬
ent timeSj this persecuted race have been driven from their re¬
vered place of worship, and debarred access to the site of their ^
ancient temple and altar. After the capture of the city by
Adrian, the Jews were entirely excluded froni it, and it was not
until the days of Coustantine that they were permitted to come
near enough to behold it from the neighboring hills. Some-
JEWS' PLACE OF WAIIANU AT TUE OLD TEaRAOE WALL OF THE TEMPLE
STONE OF WAILING.
151
lime subsequent to this they were allowed to come into the city
on the anniversary of» its overthrow hy Titus, to weep over the
ruins »>£ the Temple. From these early times the practice of
mourning over the desolations of Zion appear to have been
continued, hut even to this day no Jew is allowed to visié the
Temple area, to set his foot upon the hallowed spot once conso
"•rated hy the altar of God.
Near the southwestern corner of the Temple area, (plan of
tlie city. No. 17,) in the wall of the inclosure are several courses
of large stones, some of them eight or ten feet long, hearing
the Jewich bevel, and though very ancient—supposed hy many
to have been placed here hy Solomon when the Temple area
was graded-^they are still in a very good state of preservation.
These are the stones of wailing, and this is the nearest ap¬
proach the Jews can now make to their ancient place of wor¬
ship and sacrifice. Though the place is resorted to at any time
by the more devout, Friday afternoon is the special time foi
the Jews to congregate here and weep for the departed glory
of their city and temple. The accompanying cut gives a very
good idea of the appearance of the wall, where often the place
is thronged hy these sorrow-stricken children of Abraham.
We threaded our way through the narrow, crooked lanes to
this ohcure part of the city, with hut a slight idea of the scene
we were to witness. What was our surprise to find the alley
along the wall nearly blocked up with a large collection of
these mourning people. There were here representatives from
different nations, with their varied and strange looking cos¬
tumes—old men with wrinkled face and white flowing beards ;
young men in the vigor and strength of manhood ; women en¬
veloped from head to feet in loose robes of snowy white ; rosy
cheeked girls and smooth faced hoys, some sitting, some stand¬
ing, some leaning their heads against the old, time-worn stones,
earnestly reading from Hebrew hooks or devoutly engaged in
prayer. Soon two or three venerable old men, as they leaned
against the wall, seemed overpowered hy their deep and appa
rently heart-felt emotions; their strong frames trembled, the
great tears rolled like rain drops down their cheeks, and they
wept aloud. The women took up the solemn wail, and even
33
152
THE HOLT LAND.
the children seemed to catch the rising emotimi as it went from
heart to heart. I was not prepared for this spontaneous out¬
burst of grief. There was something in it so touching, earn¬
est, and apparently sincere, it aroused the sympathies of my
own heart, and almost before I was conscious of it, I was weep¬
ing with them. There is something truly mournful and affect¬
ing in the sad condition of this people as now seen in contrast
with their former prosperity and glory. How miraculously
they have been preserved a distinct people ; with what unyield¬
ing tenacity they still cling to their former faith ; with what
undying affection they turn to the home of their fathers, favor¬
ing the dust of Zion, and taking pleasure in her stones !'
But however sincerely they may mourn over the ruins of
their demolished temple, no rivers of grief can cleanse the
sanctuary, no sacrifices of prayer rebuild its walls, for, in the
purposes of God, it has been utterly ^nd forever overthrown.
It seemed to me a strange coincidence, jthat at the very time
that a Christian procession was celebrating in the streets of Je¬
rusalem the honors of Jesus, rejoicing in him as their hope
and glory, the very race that put him to death were weeping
over their own downfall and degradation. "Weep on, 0 op¬
pressed and afflicted people ! Thy sanctuary^ will never be
rebuilt. There was a temple thy fathers destroyed, and God,
in three days, built it up again. It is only in that temple, of
which the one on this mount was but a type, thou canst ever
find a rock of foundation on which-to rest, an altar for thy
sacrifices, a refuge from oppression, a solace for thy grief! 1
turned away in musing mood, glad that I had visited the spot
In those old stones, in that remnant of an ancient racé, in
their tears and lamentations, I had read a deep and solemn
lesoon—I had seen again the traces of an omniscient and over
ruling God, a Handwritino that none could misinterpret.
ooon FBIDAT EVENING.
The day has been crowded with strange incidents, but its
¡religious ceremonies are not yet at an end. "We have traversed
the "sorrowful way" from the hall of Pilate to Calvary.
TO'Uight the taking down from the cross aud the buiiil is to
POMPOUS CEREMONIES.
158
öc celebrated. At an early hour we repaired to the Church of
the Holy Sepulchre, Where we witnessed the most imposing cere¬
monies of any we had yet seen. The vast church—rotunda,
chapels and galleries—seemed one dense mass of human beings,
a counterpart, so far as nationality was concerned, of Peter's
audience on the Day of Pentecost. A cross, hearing the figure
of the Savior, had been erected in the Chapel of the Crucifix¬
ion. Hundreds of small wax tapers were distributed among
the crowd ; the dignitaries of the church were arrayed in their
costliest robes, the candles were lighted, and the procession,
singing the Te Deum, surrounded the cross. A ladder was
raised, and two persons ascending, passed a linen cloth around
the body under the arms, to support it from above, while
another with a hammer knocked the nails from the hands
and feet. "With great care the body was lowered and placed
m a sheet, when, with sOngs, and chants, and solemn ceremo¬
nies, it was borne first to the " stone of unction," where it was
prepared for burial by anointing with spices. Prom this it
was borne towards the tomb, the procession moving round the
sepulchre in the great rotunda of the church. As they pro¬
ceeded, a rest was occasionally made ; portions of the gospel,
descriptive of scenes in the crucifixion, were read, and addresses
to the audience made. In this way we had a short sermon
in each of the following languages : French, Greek, Italian,
German, Arabic, and what I was most surprised to hear, one
in good, well spoken English. Of the character of the others I
could not judge, but of this last I can say, in justice to the
speaker, it was a plain, faithful, earnest exhortation to look to
Jesus, and accept him as the only way of salvation. The
ceremonies were pompous in the extreme, and continued to a
late hour. At last the body was deposited in the place of
sepulture, and the vast audience gradually dispersed.
EA8TEB MOBMNO.
The anniversary of the Resurrection! Wishing to witness
the ceremonies, I went, like the women of old, early to the
Sepulchre, I may say, while it was yet dark, for the sun had
not attained sufiicient hight to throw his golden beams throngli
154
THE HOLY LAND
the windows of the church. A sombre twilight reigned within
the eflect o^ which was much hightened by a multitude oJ
burning lamps amd candles, the ligbt of whicb was softened bj
shades of colored glass.
Early as it was, I found I was anticipated by the crowd
of worshipers, and especially by the women, a crowd of whom
were gathered around the sepulchre, completely enveloped from
head to feet in long, loose robes of snowy white, giving them
a very peculiar and ghost-like appearance. "Worship was
being conducted in different languages in several parts of the
church ; lawless multitudes were sauntering about ; the peal of
the organ's notes, the nasal song of the Greek, and the monoto¬
nous chant of the Syrian, blended» with the tramp of soldiers
and careless talk of the rabbie,- made a singular jargon, calcu¬
lated to inspire any feelings but those of devotion. Several
bishops and priests were performing ceremonies in the inner
chamber of the sepulchre, while others were engaged without.
I made several attempts to reach the tomb, but could not for
the crowd. My eye-was oppressed with the dazzling splendor
of the candles and the gold and silver lamps, the pictures and
the crucifixes J the ear confused with the strange jargon of
sounds. " Here," I said, " are the rituals, here the pomp, and
ceremony, and parade, the song and the chant, but where is
the spirit ?" I felt like Mary, when on the morning of the
resurrection she stood by that empty tomb : " They have taken
away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him."
I left the church and passed down to the east side of the city,
and out through St. Stephen's Gate, near which this first Chris¬
tian martyr is said to have been stone^i and perhaps the very
gate through which the Savior passed on the terrible night of
his arrest and trial. A well worn path led down a steep descent
into the valley of Jehoshaphat; I crossed the brook Kidron,
and was in the Garden of Gethsemane, the place of the agony
and the betrayal. I ascended a little the slope of Olivet by
the same path the Savior had so often traveled, sat down under
the shade of a venerable old olive tree, and read from my Bible
tJie account of the last supper, the scene in the garden, the
treachery of Judas, the mock trial, and the crucifixion. Alone
V^ISIT TO GETHSEMANE. 155
«
in this retirement, in the midst of these hallowed surroundings,
memory busied herself with the scenes of the past, and I was
soon absorbed in the devout meditations the place was calcu¬
lated to inspire. Along this path, just to my right, the Savior
often traveled, as he went to Bethany, to rest with the beloved
family of Mary, Martha and Lazarus ; here he sat and wept
over yonder devoted city. There, just at my feet, he left Peter,
James and John, his soul exceeding sorrowful, even unto death,
and went away alone by himself and prayed, being in an
agony : " 0 my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from
me ; new^ertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt and there his
sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling down to the
ground. This mount that rises up behind me, was the mount
of his triumph, and from it he ascended to his glory. Here my
heart burned within me, and there was kindled in my soul a
glow of devotion that spurned all human ceremonies, and
before which the pomp and parade of all earthly rituals were
idle mockery. I felt that Jesus was risen indeed; I realized
the fulfillment of his promise : " L will not leave you comfort¬
less. I will come to you."
A NSW AND TNTEBESTINO AOQUAINTAN0E.
Eetuming one evening with my friend Herrick from an ex¬
cursion to Bethany, as we came near St. Stephen's Gate, a
stranger, knowing us by our dress to be Franks, accosted us in
very good English, and began questioning us with true Yankee
familiarity. We found him to be a Christian Jew, long a resi¬
dent of Jerusalem, and now the keeper of a boarding-house,,
where English and American visitors often find a home.
While conversing with him, an Arab sheik from near the
Jordan came along, and as this son of Abraham could talk
Arabic with facility, we improved the opportunity, through
him as interpreter, to make some inquiries as to the feasibihty
of visiting Mount Hebo, east of the Jordan. The result of
our inquiries were, that he had no jurisdiction or rights beyond
the Jordan. He would take us to his home, near Jericho, and
entertain us there till he could go over and bring us a Moabite
•heik, with wbom we could probably make a bargain to take
i56
THE HOLY LAM>,
US to îTebo. The journey, he said, would take three days troi i
the Jordan. Learning thus the difficulties that attended the
route, and knowing the treacherous character of the Moahite
Arahs, much as we desired to climh the sides of old Pisgah,
.aud take a survey of the land from the place where Moses
stood, and climh the mountain where he died, we thought it not
prudent to make the attempt. It is very seldom that travelers
now attempt to visit this portion of the country.
▲ JT OLD SAMARITAN BIBLI.
Our new acquaintance invited us to his house, whiiffi, upon
one side, joined the Pasha's palace. Through his acquaintsmee
with the authorities of the place, we were allowed to pass the
gates and ascend to the roof of the guard-house, which, heing
directly upon the wall of the Harem, we were permitted to look
down into the sacred inclosure, and enjoy one of the finest
views that could he obtained of the Mosque of Omar, and all
)ts interesting sonrroundings, on the old site of Solomon's
Temple.
Mr. Ducat—^for this we found to he the name of the m«i
whose acquaintance we had thus accidentally made—^then took
us to his house and introduced us to Prof. Xrauss, and Dr.
Bassillius Levishon, the first a middle aged man, by birth a
German ; the latter, an old man, also a German, hut of Jewish '
extraction. They are both eminent Hebrew scholars, and are
sustained here at the expense of the Hussian Episcopate.
They have both become deeply interested in Samaritan litera¬
ture, and are now devoting themselves to the reprint of an
ancient copy of the Samaritan Pentateuch. The story of this
old copy of the Hebrew Scriptures is so singular, I am induced
^to give a synopsis of it, as I had it from the lips of the old
Doctor himself.
BTOBT OB TUB OLD MANUBOBIBT.
The small remnant of the old Samaritans have for years lived
ju such obscurity as to he almost unknown to the Chiistiao
world. The little literature they have, has been carefully and
•ealously guarded, and kept among themselves. Aside ôx)m
SAMARITAN PBNTATEUCH.
157
ihe Pentateuch in "Walton's Polyglot, and a few fragments oí
mutilated hymns, little or nothing has been known of their
literature or religion. Between 1852 and 1854, with much d.iffi-
culty, several volumes of Samaritan were procured for the
British Museum. A couple of years since. Dr. Levishon suc¬
ceeded in procuring from Damascus a large sized Samaritan
Pentateuch, transcribed upon parchment, A. D. 1277.
Anxious to give the scholars of the world this interesting
i-elic cf an almost extinct sect, the Doctor made a journey to
] 'aris, procured a lithographic press, learned how to use it, re¬
turned with it to Jerusalem, and immediately commenced
printing a fac-simile of the old parchment. He had printed
but a few pages, when, learning that there were older copies
of the same work among the Samaritans at Habulous, the old
Shechem of Scripture, he made a visit there, in company with
Prof. Krauss. They found the priest and leading men very
reserved about their sacred books, and it was not until after
an acquaintance of several days that they ventured to broach
'the real object of their mission. They at last ascertained that
a number of the families had these old copies of their sacred
books, which had been handed down from generation to gene¬
ration, held in sacred veneration, and kept secreted from the
eye of Mohammedan and Christian. Among these the priest
showed them one that had such marks of great antiquity,
they were extremely anxious to procure it. This anxiety,
however, they concealed under an air of apparent indifference,
and when about to leave, simply inquired of the family,
through the priest, if the manuscript could be bought. The
first answer was a total refusal to part with it. Before they
left, a message came, through the priest, that the family wouid
place the manuscript at their disposal for 14,000 piasters!
about six hundred dollars They made no reply, and immedi¬
ately returned home.
Then followed a long and remarkable series of events. The
outbreak among the Druses, resulting in the burning of so many
villages, and the cold-blooded murder of so many Christians,
aroused also Mohammedan intolerance against all opposing
rehgions, and the little remnant of Saiqaritans, as well as Chris
158
THE HOLT LAND.
tians, trembled for their safety. " That outbreak," said the old
Doctor, earnestly, " was the instrumentality, under God, of put¬
ting this old hook into our hands." A lordly merchant Turk
from Damascus visited Nahulous, and dealing with a Samari¬
tan trader there, accused him of robbing him of a large sum of
money, and had him and many of his connections arrested and
cast into prison, and there seemed no way of satisfying the
avarice of 'their oppressor. At the expiration of a few months
the priest made a visit to the Russian missionaries at Jerusa¬
lem, and told the story of their wrongs. ""What shall we do?
My people are in prison. I have no means to help them. Ap¬
peals to the British and American Consuls have been in vain;
has the Russian Consul no power with the Turkish authorities
to interfere for us?" "How much," said Dr. Levishon, '^is
the claim against the imprisoned parties?" "The whole sum
now demanded, including costs, is six thousand piasters." " Can
you not in some way raise the money ?" "We have no money;
my people are all poor." " Go home," said the Doctor, " and
bring me that old copy of your scriptures, and yon shall have
the money." Three days after the claim of the persecuting
Turk was paid, the imprisoned persons were at liberty, and the
missionaries were rejoicing over the possession of the most an¬
cient copy of the Samaritan Pentateuch a Christian had ever
been allowed to handle.
THE AGE OT THIS MANUSOBIPT.
Dr. Levishon firmly believes it to have been written hefort tht
destruction of the first temple! For this he assigns the following
reasons: 1. The extreme reserve and jealous care with which
the family at Habulous guarded it, secreting it even from fami-
«lies of their own sect; and the information derived fiom the
priest tlirongh whose agency it was obtained. 2. The appear¬
ance of the manuscript, the manner in which it is written, and
the fact that the different books. Genesis, Exodus, etc., are not
divided into chapters, verses or sections of any kind. 3. Th«
names of severa' priests found in marginal notes in different
places in the volume, which names correspond with other gene¬
alogies in his possession. 4. A corner of the book has been
AN OLD MANUSCRIPT.
159
■oorclied by fire, burning off the margin so deeply as even to
touch a few of the letters, showing that the book has at some
time been in danger of being burned. The family tradition
connected with this is, that in ancient times the building and
effects where the book was kept were burned, and this book was
saved in a*miraculous manner. In corroboration of this, on
blank leaf in the book is this remarkable note : " This book,
which the fire did not burn, was delivered into the hand of Cy¬
rus, King of Persia, in the presence of Zerubbabel, the priest,
Thanks be to God for the preservation of His holy law deliv¬
ered to Moses." This marginal note has every evidence of be¬
ing genuine, written in the same character of the book, having
all the marks of antiquity. The character in which it is written
differs considerably from the modern Hebrew, being the same,
the Doctor believes, as was used before the captivity, and the same
in which Moses wrote. Immediately upon gaining possession
of this they abandoned their work upon the Damascus copy,
and are now printing a fac-simile of this, which will soon be
ready for distribution. The old Doctor is pursuing his work
with all the enthusiasm of a boy ; and in several subsequent
interviews with him he gave me much information that he had
gathered from his intercourse with this ancient people ; he also
gave me specimen pages of the work to take home with me.
We shall have more to say of these Samaritans when we visit
Kabulous. Should it prove true, that in the secluded Valley of
Ebal and Qerizim, with the little remnant of the ancient Sa¬
maritan race God has hid away, and preserved from remote an¬
tiquity, copies of his holy law, corresponding in all main par¬
ticulars to the records of the Jews, will it not be another strik¬
ing manifestation of the great leading truth we have kept in
mind through this whole work—another instance of the Hand-
«rriting of God to refute unbelief, and preserve the knowledge
of bis name and the revelation of his will?
MOUNT MOBIAH AN1> THE TEMPLE.
There was yet one other place in the Holy City I was anxious
to visit, a place sacred to the Jew, revered by the Mussulman,
and intimately connected with those sacred scenes dear to the
160
THE HOLY LAND.
(/hristian heart—Mount Moriah. It stands now within the
walls of the city between Zion and Olivet, both of which rise
considerably above it. The top of the mount has been graded
down, and the space thus leveled, including about thirty-five
acres of ground, is inclosed by a massive stone wall. This in¬
closed space is now called the Harem, a name applied by the
Arabs to any sacred or prohibited inclosure, and is the andent
Temple area, while some portions of the wall is supposed to be
the same that Solomon erected when the Temple was built.
What a history that little Mount Moriah has ! What strik¬
ing and miraculous events have here transpired ! What a place
it fills in the long line of events reaching from the Father of the
faithful to the Redeemer of men ! Hear four thousand yean
ago, Abraham came journeying from Beersheba, and with his
son, the wood and the fire, ascended this mount, reared a rude
altar of unhewn stone, laid that son of his afiections upon
it, and nerving his heart to the stern deed, was about to obey
the strange mandate of heaven. There God staid his obedient
hand, and gave him back his son as one alive from the dead ;
and Abraham called the name of the place, Jehovah Jireh—
the Lord will provide ! " Eight hundred years passed away,
and still Moriah stood a monument to perpetuate the unwaver¬
ing faith of the hoary patriarch. Ornan the Jebusite had
cleared a portion of the hill for a threshing-floor, and was here
engaged with his four sons in rural labor, when Jerusalem, for
David's sin in numbering the people, was threatened with de¬
struction. The angel of the Lord stood by the threshing-fioœ',
having a drawn sword in his hand stretched out over the de¬
voted city, and Oman and his sons fled in terror, and hid them¬
selves. From yonder bight of Zion David saw it, and was filled
with consternation ; he clothed himself in sackcloth, and with
the elders of Isra^ humbled himself before God. Hastening
to the summit of the mount, he built an altar, sacrificed unto
the Lord, and the avenging hand was staid. And David bought
the threshing-floor from Ornan for six hundred shekels of gold.
Here, as all know, under the prosperous reign of Solomon, the
Temple ^ew into symmetry and beauty—^the abode of the
Shekinah—the center of worship to the chosen people of God.
THE MOUET OF GOD.
1Ô1
Shall we enter this inclosure and walk over these grounds,
« ace consecrated by the altar of God, the Holy of Holies, the
Ark of the Covenant, and the Pillar of Fire ? Approach tho
entrance, and you are rudely thrust back by insolent Turkish
soldiers, perhaps insulted and even stoned by the lawless Chris¬
tian-hating Mohammedans that hang around the gates ! Why
18 this? Why cannot the Jew visit the place where his fathers
worshiped, and the Christian stand upon the site of the Tem¬
ple, once a glorious type of the spiritual church of God?
THE TEMPLE AND SAOBED ROOK.
This little inclosure has a strange history. We have already
alluded to the early incidents under Abraham, David and Solo¬
mon. That beautiful Temple, the pride and gloiy of the king¬
dom, the astonishment of every visitor at the court of Solomon,
was, after having stood over four hundred years, plündere^,
burnt, and left a heap of ruins by the Chaldeans. The long
captivity ended, the Temple was re-built, and the changes of
five hundred years passed over it, when Herod re-built and
adorned it, employing eighty thousand workmen nine years,
sparing no expense to render it equal in magnitude, splendor
and beauty, to any thing among mankind. This gorgeous and
«osüy pile, in the overthrow of the city by Titus, seventy years
after Christ, was so completely demolished the prophecy of the
Savior was literally fulfilled, not one stone was left upon an¬
other that was not thrown down. About half a century after,
Adrian, out of contempt for the Jews, erected upon the spot a
^lendid temple to Jupiter. The subsequent history for many
years it is difficult to trace; the sacred inclosure passed into
diiferent hands, and underwent many changes.
In grading the top of Moriah, near the center of the present
inclosure, a large portion of the original rock was left in its
rough, native state. This rock is from fifty to siitty feet long,
and from forty to fifty wide—a bold and majestic mass of stone,
upon which no tool of iron has left its mark, the only surviving
witness of the long series of changes and revolutions of four
thousand years. This unhewn rock, tradition says, was Abra¬
ham's altar, upon which Isaac was laid; on it David offered
THE HOLY LAND.
sacrifice, and this rock, it is supposed, became the altar of burnt
offering in the temple service. From this rock Mohammedans
say their Prophet ascended to heaven ! This is the reason of
the sacred estimation in which they hold it; and hence the
jealous care with which it is guarded from the intruding eye
and polluting foot of the " infidel Christian." For six hundred
years they had it shut up and closely guarded, and no Christiau
or Jew could visit the inclosure but at the peril of his life ; for
it is said the authorities here had a firman from the Sublime
Porte to kill any one who should presume to enter. In 1866,
as a result of the wars among the European powers, this spirit
of intolerance was somewhat relaxed; avarice triumphed over
revei^ence, and the rigid law was so far modified that Christians
might be allowed to visit the Harem upon the payment of five
dollars each.
I had a strong desire to stand on Mount Moriah, and to visit
the site of the ancient Temple of God. " Shall I," I said to
myself, submit to this infamous and unjust tax that bars en*
trance to a place that ought to be common ground for Jew,
Christian, and even Pagan, as well as Mohainme(jan ? For sev¬
eral days I debated the question without being able to come to
any decision. Several times I ventured up to the gates of the
inclosure, and as often was insolently driven back, and once
stones were thrown at me. I inwardly anathematized the in¬
tolerance that thus obstructed the way, and felt like impreca¬
ting French and British authority and bayonets to hasten the
work they have commenced, and are assuredly destined to ac¬
complish. While in this state of suspense, the general of the
French army stationed at Beirut, with between fifty and sixty
of his officers, arrived at pur convent to spend Passion Week
, in Jerusalem. Turkish dependence upon French authority and
influence led to an invitation from the Governor of Jerusalem to
the officers to visit the sacred inclosure, and courtesy extendeil
the invitation to other visitors at the convent. At an early
hour of the morning we met at the office of the French
Consul, under whose sanction and guidance the formal visit
was to be made. The gates were opened ; the Turkish guard.
VAULT UNDER THE SITE OF THE TEMPLE OF'JEBUSAUSSfi
TISIT TO THE HAREM.
165
Zoaave dresa and bristling bayonets, were passed, and we
were in the—hârem !
This is inclosed by a high stone wall, the east and a part of
the southern portion of it constituting also the wall of the city.
The space inclosed is about thirty-five acres, adorned with
walks and shrubbery, while a few tall cypress trees lift their
dark forms on high, adding to the variety of the scene,
the mosque oe omar
Is the chief attraction of the place, and, next to the great
mosques at Mecca and Medina, the most sacred spot to the Mo¬
hammedan. It stands near the center of the inclosure, upon
an elevated platform paved with marble. The lower story, or
main body of the building, is a regular octagon, each side of
which is sixty-seven feet; the central and elevated portion is
circular, and about one hundred and seventy-five feet high.
The building is crowned by a symmetrical and costly dome,
over which rises a lofty bronze crescent, adding much to its
architectural finish and beauty. The dome, and upper por¬
tions of the building, are every where covered with highly
glazed porcelain tiles, of beautiful and gaudy colors, while the
lower i)art of the octagonal sides are encased in rich marble of
variegated colors, giving to the whole structure a polished,
glittering appearance. The sides of the building are pierced
by numerous windows, separated by marble columns. These
windows are of the richest stained glass, through which fioods
of jainbow light are poured into the interior. There are four
entrances, facing the four cardinal points, and over each a
costly portico.
A Turldsh attendant, in military costume, acted as our guide.
Oocning to the principal entrance, we laid aside our boots and
shoes, and with feet encased in light slippers, entered the
sacred precincts. The interior, though very richly finished,
was to me more gaudy than grand. A large portion of the
wall and of the greht dome appeared to be lined with the
same kind of porcelain tiles that covered the exterior, thougn
much more richly wrought, forming lafge gilded and mosaic
pictures of brightest colors. Above the windows, two lines of
166
THE HOLT LAND.
beautifully interlaced Arabic inscriptions, sentences from thrt
"Koran, run round the whole interior of the building, wrought
in the same beautifully colored enameled tiles, forming a sort
cf religious cornice. The interior is one hundred and forty-
eight feet in diameter. Two corridors, one thirteen feet wide,
supported by Corinthian columns, and within this another, thirty
feet wide the inside supported by Corinthian piers, together
form the support of the central dome, sixty-six feet in diameter
Occupying the centre of this rotunda, is
THE SAKHBAH, OB' SAOBED BOOK.
This rock is about sixty feet long from north to south, and
about fifty feet broad. It rises several feet above the marble
fioor of the mosque, and, consequently, would be some twelve or
fifteen above the ground beneath. It is surrounded with a
gilt iron fence, six or seven feet high, and very strongly built,
while over it is stretched a rich awning of party-colored silk.
For that rock this costly structure was built ; for that rock this
majestic dome spreads its ample proportions on high ! That
rock, to the Jew, is the most sacred spot on earth, for the
rabbins say it is the identical rock on which Jacob pillowed
his head, on which Abram oflTered Isaac, by the side of which
Ornan the Jebusite had his threshing-floor, and on which
David offered sacrifice ; the rock that afterwards became the
altar of burnt-ofi'ering for the great Temple of Solomon!
But what renders this stone so sacred to these Mohammed¬
ans, that for six hundred years they shut it up from the ap¬
proach of Jew or Christian ? Listen to the story of that old
derwish, and he will tell you : "When Mohammed made his
celebrated excursion from Arabia to Jerusalem, and thence
through the heavens, he stood on this rock, and from it bounded
upward to the celestial spheres. Here, in the solid rock, is
shown the print of his foot, and while the rock, starting from its
resting place, would have followed him in his serial flight, here
are to be seen the marks of the angel's hand as he held it down !
He will also further assure you, that from that time till now,
this holy rock has remained suspended in the air, requiring no
support but the miraculous power of God ! True, there is a
THE HOLT SOCB:.
167
cäi^'re beneath the rock, with walls of heavy stone masonry, but
he will assure you these walls do not support a single ounce
weight of the stone, but are only placed there to hold the
rock in case the supernatural power that sustains it should at
any moment be withdrawn ! Such is the Moslem legend of
the Holy Hock ; such the origin of the superstitious reverence
with which it is regarded.
When Lamartine visited Jerusalem, in 1832, in a familiar
conversation with the governor of the city, " Why " said he,
"wül you not allow us to visit the Dome of the Rock?"
" There is one place by that holy rock from which prayer is
always answered ; should a Christian go there, he would pray
from God the ruin of the religion of the Prophet, and the ex¬
termination of the Moslems." " God preserve me," said Lam¬
artine, "from abusing your hospitality, and exposing you to
danger! If I were in the mosque El Sakhrah, I would pray,
not for the extermination of any people,-but for the enlighten¬
ment and the happiness of all the children of Allah."
A distinguished American traveler, whose books have been
Pensively read, after having looked through the Church of
the Holy Sepulchre, seen the jealousies and feuds of rival sects, -
witnessed the superstitious ceremonies, and listened to the
foolish and marvellous legends, turns away in disgust, and says :
"Were I cast here, ignorant of any religion, and were I to
compare the lives and practices of these different sects as the
means of making my choice—-in short, to judge of each faith
by the conduct of its professors—should at once turn Mussul¬
man." Why this hasty conclusion,-unfavorable to our holy re-
li^on? He found these Christians divided into conflicting
sects. Inquire among these Moslems, if they too are not sepa¬
rated into contending castes and factions. True, the stolid-
Turk and ignorant Arab may manifest less zeal and activity
in religious controversy than the energies of a Christian faith
in^ire, but the same evil of discord is in his heart. He found
among these CbristianB a firman from the Sultan, yet unre¬
pealed, allowing them to put to death any one of a different
religion, who should intrude into their churches, and he tells
'IS " a Jew found in the; Church of the Holy Sepulchre, would
34
163
THE HOLY LAND.
De lucky if he escaped with his life." Did he forget that
ti^e Moslem has the same firman ? and would it not have
been at the peril of his own life, had he attempted to have
intruded into the sacred Harem? Could he buy "a piece of
the stone covering of the Savior's tomb, certified as genuine by
a Greek patriarch," or see at Bethlehelm "the pit where the
twelve thousand innocents slain by Herod were buried," and
numerous other absurd places and things? Well, charge
them, if you please, with all that. Have not these Moslems
this rock hanging in the air, with the print of Mohammed's
foot, and the marks of Gabriel's fingers? Under that rock
will they not show y^u a well through which the wicked de¬
scend into purgatory? 'Have they not here a pair of scales for
weighing the souls of men ?—^the shield of Mohammed ?—^the
birds of Paradise ?—the pomegranates of Solomon ?—^the saddle
of El Borak, on which the Prophet made his serial journey?
Have they not here a well of soul-refreshing water, opening
into Paradise? and do they not declare that all the waters in
the world issue from beneath this Harem? Will they not
show you a portion of a pillar projecting from the east wall of
the Area, on which Mohammed will sit when he comes to judge
tlie world ? and do they not affirm there is a wire, invisible to
all infidels, stretched from this mosque to yonder summit of
Olivet, on which the souls of the faithful cross the valley, and
from the mount ascend to Paradise ! And again, that Moham¬
med, in that wondrous journey, when he planted his feet on
this rock, traveled with such astonishing rapidity that he cam«
from Mecca here, and went from this through the seven
iheavens, held several conversations with Moses, and yet re-
tturned in time to prevent the falling of a silver urn thai
'Gabriel, in the commencement of his fiight, accidentally struck
with his wing!
"But these," you say, "are idle tales; who believes them?**
So you may say of the traditional fables of Christians; they
originated in the darker days o^ ignorance and superstititm»
and the legendary stories continue to be repeated ; yet who
but the ignorant and superstitious believes them? These
rlhiugs are blemishes that stain the purity and mar the beaufy
TWO RELIGIONS COMPARED. 169
f)f any system of faith, but neither this relimen or that is re¬
sponsible for them ; they spring directly from the root of igno¬
rant and depraved human nature. They may appear worsç in
Christians, because there we expect better things ; there they
are deeper shades in contrast with stronger lights.
And what superior purity of character, acts of devotion,
deeds of charity and benevolence, or spirit of enterprise and
improvement, did our traveler find in these followers of the
Prophet ? In morals I should not hesitate to challenge a com¬
parison, believing that even Jerusalem Christians, with all
their errors and disadvantages, will still bear the palm ; while
in deeds of charity, of benevolence, in attention to the poor,
in hospitals and care for the sick, in schools, enterprise, and
public improvements, they are far, far in advance of their indo¬
lent Moslem neighbors. I have alluded to these things to show
that Christianity, even here, in the midst of all its corruptions,
will not suffer in comparison with the best forms of a false re¬
ligion. After seeing the two religions side by side in the Holy
City, after tracing their infiuence, as seen in these eastern
countries, could I look no farther, and were I left to choose, I
should still say, give me Christianity, even with its blemishes of
heresy, its burden of ceremonies, its drapery of superstitions
and traditions—^in view of all these things I would still prefer
the priest to the derwish ; put the bands, crozier, and mitre be¬
fore the turban, elevate the cross above the crescent!
But how our thoughts are wandering from this wonderful
rock, by the side of which we stand ! The truth is, this famous
rock, so far from being suspended in mid air, is a part of the
solid mountain itself. In grading down the top of the hill, to
make the broad and beautiful area that now constitutes its sum¬
mit, this portion of the native rock was left unhewn, and un¬
polished, for what reason it is difficult now to tell. About it
Ornan might have had his threshing-fioor ; on it Abraham,
Bävid and Solomon may have offered sacrifices ; it seems more
than probable, What changes and revolutions that old rock
has witnessed ! There it has stood through all the mutations of
this holy mount; Pagan, Jewish and Christian rites have been
performed upon it; and now, honored and protected by that
170
THE HOLY LAND.
costly and graceful dome, the muezán's call summons the fol<
lowers of the Prophet to worship about it. It did not fall from
the heavens, as the Moslems affirm, but was formed here by
the hand of Creative Power. Here it has stood, and here it
will stand, a part of the solid foundations of the globe itself,
needing no angel's hand to hold it down, or special divine
agency to hold it up !
OTHSB SIGHTS IN THE TEMPLE AREA.
Leaving the Mosque of Omar and the Sacred Bock, we wete
next taken to the Mosque El Aska, standing near the south-
western corner of the inclosure. It is supposed to be the same
building erected in the sixth century by Justinian for a Chris¬
tian church, and dedicated by him to the Virgin Mary. It
escaped destruction when Jerusalem was sacked by the Per¬
sians, under Caliph Omar, A. D. 636. It has l>een altered and
remodeled through successive architectural eras, till it now
presents a curious specimen of the composite order. It is a
monster building, two hundred and eighty feet long, one hun-
drèd and eighty-three broad, and the dome, though smaller, is
nearly as high as the Dome of the Bock. Between El Aska
and the outer wall is another mosque, one hundred; feet m
length and seventy in breadth, used chiefly for educational
purposes. A short distance from this is a mosque of the "West¬
ern African negroes, called Mugrahin^ a single hall, one hun¬
dred and seventy feet long, and twenty-five wide. Besides
these, tigere are numerous smaller structures, mosques, colon-
ades, porticoes, fountains and praying places. One of thess
structures is called the Mosque of Jesus; another the Dome of
Solomon, said to mark the place where Solomon stood, to jffay
at the dedication of the Temple.
In the east wall of the Harem (No. 16) is the Golden Gate.
The massive cfllumns that support the arch project far into
the interior of the grounds, and the whole forms a majestio
and imposing piecç of architecture. "When and by whom this
gate was built, and whether it corresponds with one of the
ancient temple gates, it is now impossible to tell. It has also
been walled up from time immemorial, the destruction of the
THE TEMPLÉ ABE A.
171
terraces on the east of Moriah, forming a descent into thé
valley of Jehoshaphat, ienclering a gate in that part of the
afea useless. "Pradition a&rms it to be the gate through which
the 8on of God made his triumphant entry into the city, and
also the one through which the ÏJmperor Heraclius entered,
bearing in triumph the cross he had recovered from the Per¬
sians. Among the antique and wonderful things of the
Temple area, are the old eubstrUctions, and
UNUEBOBOUND WELLS AND BESEBYOIBS.
The existence of thièse was known and ^Oken of hy Jose¬
ph as, but in the subsequent change of masters to Which the
place was subjected, some of them were almost entirely lost
sight of. The hostility of the present occupants for a long
time prevented explorations, and it is only recently that any
accurate knowledge of them has been obtained. Since the
opening of the Harem to Frank visitors, Dr. Barclay has been
permitted to make explorations and measurements, the results
of which he has embodied in his elaborate work. It appears
that in leveling the area, the southwest corner of the grounds
was so much lower than other portions^ it was found easier to
build vaults and arches than to ñll the depressions with solid
work. Thus there are now found underground long colon-
ades and archès, rooms and recesses. In other places, vaults
have been formed by excavating the solid rock of the hill.
These underground worksj Dr. Barclay thinks^ are of the
highest antiquity, as they possess the peculiar features of Jew¬
ish architecture. Probably portions of them were built by
Solomon himself, and have been often traversed by that Boyal
Monarch of Israel and his successors. There are many pas^
Sages here hundreds of feet long, entirely under ground, sup¬
ported by columns, and covered with arches. ,,Some suppose^
that much Of the costly furniture and treasures Of the ancient
temple yet lie concealed in some of these subterranean vault»
What became of the saci^ed ark, with its mercy seat and cheru-
bims of solid gold, has long been a mystery ; and many of those
oW Jews, Who weep by yondei wall, will tell you they believe
172
THE HOLT LAND.
it lies concealed in some hidden recess beneath the Temple area
and in the fullness of time it will be restored to Israel.
"We have before alluded to the Mohammedan notion that all
the waters in the world issue from beneath the Sacred Rock
"S Mt. Moriah ! and have also mentioned the fact that ancient
Jerusalem, with its immense population, in all its protracted
sieges, seems never to have suffered for a supply of water
There seems to be much of mystery about these supplies of
water for the Holy City, both in ancient and modern times.
Dr. Barclay, in alluding to this, says that Siloam is the only
perennial fountain in the vicinity of the city, and that there
is hut one well of living water in the limits of the city, and one
in the immediate "ñcinity without! Still, there is always a
fair supply of water. There are many reservoirs where rain
water is treasured up, many deep wells with watei, but they
seem to be dependent on the rains and cess-pools for the waters
they afibrd. In making these subterranean explorations in the
Harem, upon removing in one place a half-buried marble capi¬
tal, the Doctor observed a rude subterranean passage, leading
to a flight of steps. Torches were at once procured and a
descent made. A broad flight of forty-four steps, cut in the
solid rock, brought them to an immense cavern, containing a
beautiful sheet of water ! He spent considerable time in ex¬
ploring and making an accuratp sketch of this wonderful
underground lake, the knowledge of which appears to have
been almost entirely lost to the Franks, and of which even the
Turks of the Harem seemed to know but little. It is seven
hundred and thirty-six feet in circumference, and forty feet
deep ! though when he explored it he found only about two
feet of water covering the bottom. This, he says, is no donbt
-the "sea" of which the son of Sirach and the commissioner of
King Ptolmey speak in such rapturous terms. Though the
Doctor says he discovered no fountain in connection with iv,
still such fountain may exist ; he was also told by one of the
old keepers who had before visited the place, that the aque¬
duct from Solomon's Pool leads into this reservoir. There is
also another large reservoir under the Mosque El Aska, which
probably has a connection with this. "When opportunity occurs
WOÄDERFÜL RESERVOIR.
173
for a thorough exploration of these wonderful chamhers, we
shall probably be able to account for the mysterious flow of
the waters of Siloam, of which we have before given an account,
and perhaps may be able to understand how the ancient city
was so remarkably supplied, and how the notion has arisen
among Jews, Christians and Mohammedans, of the miraculous
streams that flow from the throne, altar, and oraclé of God.
On emerging from the Mosque El Aska, a servant returned
ns our boots and shoes, and we spent an hour strolling about
the grounds. We climbed upon the wall near the southeast
corner of the inclosure, and looked down into the Valley of Je-
hoshaphat. The wall here is built up from the side of the hill,
so as to enlarge the Temple area by fllling in from the inside;
thus the exterior of the wall is between seventy and eighty feet
high. Upon some pinnacle of the Temple crowning this high
wall, I imagined it was, where the tempter set the Savior, when
he said : " If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down." A fall
from the pinnacle of the Temple to the foundation of the build¬
ing might have been fearful, but a fall down this giddy bight
' the valley below, would have been certain destruction.
"What strange reflections came crowding upon me as I slowly
walked across the great inclosure to the exit gate. It was no
slight privilege to stand upon ground that had been conse¬
crated by the feet of angels, and hallowed by a series of sacrifi¬
ces, reaching from Melchisedek to Jesus. Here stood the Tem¬
ple of the living God ; here Abraham, David and Solomon had
worshiped. Here stood the altar of sacrifice, streaming with
the daily oblation of blood ; here the golden altar from which
the morning and the evening incense ascended to heaven. Here
were the Holy of Holies, the Ark of the Covenant, the Cheru¬
bim ; here the Shekinah found a resting place, and here the
Holiest of all in the person of Jesus came and worshiped and
taught. But this mount, over which I now walk, has not only
been consecrated by all these hallowed scenes ; alas ! it has been
polluted by unsanctified ofierings and stained by the bloodiest
of human massacre ! Here Pagans came to'demolish the Tem
pie of God, and rear up their idolatrous altars. Here Jews,
Christians and Moslems have contended for the mastery. "What
174
THE HOLT LAJ!íl>.
pen can portray that terrible scene, when the inmates of this
great city, besieged and driven by Titus, fled to their sanc¬
tuary, and took refuge within these wails as their last strong¬
hold; when fire and sword finished the woih: ghastly famin«
had commenced, and heaps on heaps of the goiy slain were
piled about the courts of their burning Temple ! What still
more fearful scenes of carnage were witnessed, when, in subse¬
quent times, the Crusaders came to expel the Moslem hordes
that had here iutrenched themselves—^when Tancred led his
host, thirsting for vengeance, to this sacred inclosure, and this
ground was given up to the most barbarous excesses—when
more than ten thousand of the followers of the Prophet were
massacred in this very inclo^re, and this beautiful area was
ankle deep in blood ! What a revolution followed, when, in
less than one hundred years after, Saladin came and expelled
the Christians, again set up the standard of Islam, pulled down
the golden cross from its lofty eminence, trailed it upon the
ground, and again hung the crescent high in the air! Were
not all these things in the mind of the Savior, when, from yon¬
der siie of Olivet, he saw the coming fate of the city and Tem¬
ple, and wept in view of the approaching calanuties^
0 Moñah, what changes thou hast witnessed ! How glmrious
have been thy consecrations; how terrible thy baptisms of
blood ! How thou hast been enshrined in the hopes and affec¬
tions of the devout through a long succession of generation»!
Christian and Moslem revere thee, and the Jew comes to weep
over thy ruins. Mount of Jehovah Jireh, thou hast fulfilled
thy mission 1 Shorn of thy beauty and glory, here thou stmid-
est, another of the monumental piles of the past, thy very name
a historic record, and this great rock-hewn terrace one of
*God'S imperishable tablets, on whieh he has written with hif
own hand lessons of wailiing and instruction none can misuo-
derstand !
A WALK IK THE UOUKTBY
11»
CHAPTER VII,
Foot Excursions about Jerusalem—^Home of Old Samuel-
Excursion to Bethlehem and Hebron.
%
We hftTO seen the prominent places of interest in the Holy
City and its immediate vicinity; let us now extend our excur¬
sions to the neighboring towns, and see what we can find use¬
ful and instructive. Horses can be hired for th^e excursions
for thirty piasters, or about one dollar and a quarter a day, and
guides for one and a half to two dollars. I had a dread of
guides and dragomen, and as for horses, it was much more
pleasant to wander at one's leisure across the fields, down into
the glens and up the mountain sides, where beasts of burden
could not go.
About 9 o'clock A. M., several of us passed out of the Da¬
mascus Gate, and wandered off into the country north of the
. rity. We took no guides, intending to find our way as best we
could. Our first point of destination was Heby Samuel, the
supposed Mizpeh of scripture. This we could easily see about
five miles distant, its summit crowned with an old, dilapidated
mosque. We started off in the direction, passing by the tombs
of the Judges, but leaving their examination for a subsequent
visit Occasionally we could trace the remains of the old Ro¬
man road that ran in this direction, the heavy stone pavement
being still visible. We clambered up rocky hills and down
into rocky ravines, over stony pathways almost impassablei.
At last we reached the base, and then, by a circuitous path,
climbed the rocky sides of Heby (Prophet) Samuel. It rises
ubruptly between five hundred and six hundred feet above the
little plain of Gibeon. Its sides have been terraced, and were
once cultivated to the very top. In some places the vine is still
178
THE HOLT LAND.
Been, and the fig tree grows, but over most of the hill the ter
races have fallen into decay, and the rains have washed away
the soil, leaving nothing visible but an ugly mass of barrée
rocks. And such is the case with the whole section of countiy.
This hill, as one has justly remarked, ^'is the culminating
point of the whole mountain region round the Holy City." ' Ño
other peak in Southern Palestine gives one so extensive a view
of the country as this. This is supposed to be
THX ANCIENT MIZPEH.
The name signifies " a place of look-out." According to an
early tradition, it is the Bamathaim-Zaphim, the birth-plae^
residence, and bunal-place of the Prophet Samuel. It was
here at this conspicuous hill that Israel was assembled togeth^,
when they made a solemn vow never to return to their homes
until they had punished the inhabitants of Gibea for the
shocking crime committed in that city. Here the old Prophet
of the Lord called them together, on another occasion,' tö ptin-
ish their enemies, the Philistines, on which occasion they gained
a decisive victory over them, and " Samuel took a stone, and
set it between Mizpeh and Shem, and called the name of it
Ebenezer, saying, ' Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.' " Hère
Israel assembled to elect their king. The choice fell upoh'Sknl^
and from the multitudes of Israel there went up, for the first •
time, the shout, " God save the Xing ! " The Crusaders erected
on this commanding eminence a convent and a church, the re¬
mains of which are still visible. Some of the foundations are
hewn deeply in the solid rock. During the Babylonian cap¬
tivity, the Chaldean Governor resided here, and at this place
he was assassinated by the Jews. Here, too, it is said, Richard
the III, having advanced his camp from Ajalon, stood and
looked upon Jerusalem, and buiied his face in his armor and
exclaimed : " Ah, Lord God ! I pray that I may never see the
Holy City, if I may not rescue it from the hands of thine
enemies."
The great antiquity of the place, the number of interesting
events connected with it, the extensive view of the surrounding
country that here opened upon us, made it to us one of the
HOME OF SAMUEL.
177
most interesting localities among all our visits about Jerusalem.
A few miserable houses, not more than twelve or fifteen in
number, now clustered around the old ruined mosque, consti¬
tute the whole of the present village. The few 'villagers gath¬
ered around us, ahxious to accommodate us in any way they
could, that they might claim a backsheesh. AX the door of one
of the hovels a girl was churning. The milk was tied up in a
goat-skin sack, and suspended from the limb of a fig tree ; to
this she had attached a string and was moving it with sudden
jerks backward and forward—a simple and novel method of
performing this common operation. One of my friends feeling
thirsty, asked for Uh-an (milk). A dirty looking woman
brought a bowl of buttermilk, richly ornamented with streaks
of dirt. My friend looked at it, shook his head, and hesitated ;
at last, mustering resolution, he blowed away, as best he could,
the dirty scum, and took a drink, and then offered the bowl to
me, but I was not thirsty. We had amongst us but a very few
words of Arabic, and could hold but little communication with
the natives. Among the children who gathered around us,
was a girl thirteen or fourteen years old, with a head-dress or¬
namented with silver coins. It was of the same pattern as is
usually worn by the girls here, but so much more of a fancy
article than the most I had seen, I had a strong desire to take
it home with me as a curiosity. I bantered with the father as
best I could by signs and the few Arabic words I could com¬
mand, and at last concluded a bargain at one dollar and a halt.
The roguish-looking girl watched the progress of the bargain
until her father called upon her to surrender the crown of her
costume, when she made a sudden retreat to the rear of the mud
cottages, and no persuasions could induce her to give it up. I
found the girls set a high estimate upon this article of dress,
and it is very difficult to purchase one. I made several at
tempts, and at last succeeded in getting one at Bethlehem, for
which I paid as high as six dollars, but it was richly orna
mented with a heavy border of coins.
Having finished our visit at Heby Samuel, distributed a few
.piasters among the children, and given a backsheesh to the
sheik for the privilege of ascending the minaret of their oid
178
THE HOLY LAND.
mosque, we took our départait» Ou the side of the hill below
the town we sat down under the shade of an old olire tree and
took our lunch. 'We passed down the hill and across the val¬
ley about one mile, nearly due north, and then ascending again
an isolated hill, and we were in
XL-JIB, OB GIBBON.
Around this there lies one of the most beautiful and fertile
plains of central Palestine, and this place, like the one we have
just left, is noted for the many historic and scriptural ev^ts
that have transpired here. It is spoken of in the old Testa¬
ment as " a great city, one of the royal cities." Here lived the
people, who, when the Israelites invaded the land, gathered their
old tattered garments, and worn-out shoe^ and packed their
sacks with musty bread, and came with their hungry, jaded
animals, and beguiled Joshua and the leaders of Israel into a
treaty of peace. It was certainly a very clever trick, and we
must ^ve the former inhabitants of Gibeon credit for great
shrewdnee».
This town, like others all over Palestine, has gone to decay;
yet as one stands in the midst of the few dilapidated buildings,
and calls to mind the events that have transpired here, visions
of its former greatness rise upon the ima^nation. On that
little plain that meets your eye as you look down from the hill,
the five kings of the Amoiites assembled together to puUicAi
Gibeon. Turn to the east and look towards Gilgal. There
Joshua and his host were encamped. One night's march, and
they come with the morning sun pouring over that rocky em¬
inence, and the Amoiites are discomfited. The day is not
long enough for Israel to continue the conquest, and Joshua
gives that ever memorable command, ** Sun, stimd thou still Upon
Gibeon, and thou moon in the Valley of AjalOU." And the
sun stood still, and the moon stayed until the people avenged
themselves upon their enemies.
As we came to the foot of the hill, we wished to see the
"Pool of Qibeon," but did not know where to find it. Just
then a young Gibeonlte met us, with a hoe upon his shoulder,
going to his work In the field. All we could say was, Moii/a
VISIT TO GIBEON.
17»
(water). He seemed immediately to comprehend our meaning,
and led us to the east side of the hill and about half-way up to
the town, where we came upon the remarkable spring or pool.
There is first a natural cavity or grotto in the rock. Then an
Inner chamber has been excavated by art, which is entered by
a low, narrow opening down several stone steps. Here a copi¬
ous fountain of water gushes from the apparenlîly solid rock.
We stopped and refreshed ourselves at this fountain. A little
belpw it on the hill-side are the ruins of a large reservoir,
Once probably used to retain the waters brought into it from
the fountain above. It was here by this pool that that remark¬
able meeting took place between
ABNEa AND JOAB.
They came at the head of their respective arinies of Israel
and Judah. Twelve men of Judah were challenged to fight
with twelve men of Israel. The termination of the bloody
tragedy all Bible readers remember. The whole twenty-four
were slain : i'For they caught every one his fellow by the head,
and thrust his sword in his fellow's side, so that they fell, down
together." And on that plain just at our feet the subsequent
battle took place. Abner was defeated and the swift footed
Asahel slain. At this city, also, David's nephew. Amasa, was
treacherously slain by his cousin Joab. Here, too, on Gibcon,
Solomon offered up his thousand burnt offerings, and here the
Lord appeared to him in a dream, and gave him the desire of
his heart, " wisdom and understanding."
We went up into the village, sad remnant of'glory departed,
and mingled a little while with the inhabitants. The sheik, a
large, venerable looking old man, treated us with great kind¬
ness. He pointed to his hut or house and said, "cq^ée," but
we excused ourselves, for we had no relish for any thing com¬
ing from these dirty hovels. He took us into a laige room,
with rush mats upon the floor, and signified that we could stay
all night and sleep there. But this kind offer we again de¬
clined. "When the children in their eager curiosity gathered
too close around us, he scolded them away; and when we had
180
THE HOLT LAND.
finished our visit and given him a backsheesh, he pressed our
hands and kissed them, and even shed tears at our departure.
It was between 3 and 4 o'clock, and we had now near six
miles of rough and hilly road between us and Jerusalem,' and
must reach the gates before sunset. We bade farewell to
Gibeon, and as we turned away we could not but reflect upou
the many striking illustrations of scripture we meet at almost
every step in this ancient land. As we entered the village/cne
of the first things we met was a woman at work with a large,
round stone, grinding to powder a hard crystaline substance,
for what purpose I could not ascertain; and as we took our de¬
parture down the hill we met others, some staggering under
heavy burdens of wood, others of water borne upon the head,
forcibly reminding one of the penalties imposed upon them in
the days of Joshua, when they made them hewers of wood and
drawers of water. A wearv walk, and our excursion was ended.
Just as the setting sun was bathing with his golden light the
western hills, we entered Damascus Gate, and were soon enjoy¬
ing with keen appetites the hospitable fare of our Franciscan
friends:
FOOT EXCURSIONS OONTINUXIt.
We had other places of interest to visit, lying northeast of
the city, and again we started for another day's ramble among
the rocky hills and passes of Judah and Benjamin. Leaving
the city by St. Stephen's Gate and crossing the Valley of Jehosh-
aphat, we ascended the Scopus ridge. It was on this hill that
Titus had his camp, and from this side of the city he com¬
menced that memorable siege that involved the city in such
terrible ruin. Here we lingered for some time, enjoying one of
those splendid views of the surrounding country that excite the
admiration of every traveler.. Conspicuous among the objects
that attracted attention was Jerusalem itself, with its multi¬
tude of synagogues, mosques and churches ; its minarets, domes
and towers. Just as we were gazing upon it the sun from be¬
hind a cloud poured over it a fiood of golden light, while all
around lay in the deep, dark shadow. "Is this," we said,
"emblematic?" Jerusalem, on thee God once shed his radi-
VISIT TO ANATHOTH.
181
»nee, and from thee went forth light for the illumination of the
world !
Our road was now among the hills and rocky passes of Ben¬
jamin. About one hour from the city brought us to some
deep, dark looking ravines. Flocks of black goats, attended
by Bedawins, were cropping the scanty herbage upon the rocky
, acclivities, while occasionally a low, black tent showed the rest-
* ing-place of a family of these strange wanderers of the desert.
A half hour farther brought us to Anathoth, now called Anata.
Three thousand years ago, this town was set off to the Levites,
But it possesses an interest greater than this. It was the birth¬
place of the prophet Jeremiah. Here the word of the Lord
first came to him, and here was his home till he was driven
away by persecution. It is about three miles iu a direct line
from Jerusalem. It still shows some remnant of its former
greatness. The foundations of some of the houses were of great
hewn stone, of ancient workmanship; the remains of an an¬
cient wall can still be seen. There are old and spacious cisterns
hewn in the rocks, and fragments of old columns lie here and
there. The village is now a miserable place of about twenty
small houses. The fields are poorly tilled, and but a few scat¬
tered fig and olive trees are seen. The miserable, lazy-looking
men of the place gathered around us, and stared at us, evident¬
ly unaccustomed to the visits of Franks. We made a short
stay and passed on, and to our great surprise not a single one
of them asked for a backsheesh.
Here we were in the immediate vicinity of Alemetfa, one of
the cities given to the Levites as a part of their inheritance
in the land. It was on the top of a hill, and is now nothing
but a heap of ruins. Hizmeh is a small modern village near
by, also situated upon the top of a high hill. The attention of
tlie traveler will here be arrested by the strange appearance of
the country; every thing is of a dull, grayish white. The
stones, the soil, the houses, and even the very shrubs, seem to
have the same general appearance, giving an - extremely bar
ren and monotonous aspect to the landscape. A few olive and,
fig trees are seen, and a few cultivated patches of soil ; the nar¬
row valleys looked green and fertile, but rocky hill-sides seemed
182
THE HOLT LAND,
too sterile to repay cultivation. We now made a lescent into
a deep, rocky ravine, climbed the shelving banks of the oppo*
site side, then down and np the steep acclivitiea of another,
when we found ourselves in
JEBA, THE ANCIENT OEBA OT BENJAMIN.
We were now in a wild region, not only of country, but of
inhabitants. Many consider it unsafe for Franks,, as all Euro¬
peans are here called, to venture into these towns without a
guard. We were only three in number. Two of our company
had buckled on. their revolvers before starting, more, however,,
for show than with any expectation of using them. Nbtwithk
standing the surly appearance of the inhahitauts, we betrayed
no signs of fear, but walked boldly into the village, and were
almost immediately surrounded by a throng of saucy children,
and from fifteen to twenty desperate looking men.
In the village stands an old tower, a remnant of the former
buildings of the place, which we wished to ascend to get a
better view of tiie. surrounding country. One of the men stood
at the door and demanded a backsheesh. We offered a piece
of money and he nodded assent. We gave him the money,
when he refused to let us go unless we would pay more.
We would not submit to any imposition of this kind, and, as
he would neither pay us back our money nor let us go up, we
expressed our strong disapprobation and turned away. We
took a hasty survey of the place, and not liking the appear¬
ance of the men around us, passed on ; they hooted and hal¬
looed after us in a very unmvil way, but we payed no attention
to it. We passed on a little out of the town to the side of tiie
hill that commanded a view of the scene we wished to con¬
template. We were now upon the ground over which Sennach¬
erib marched his army when he advanced upon Jerusalem.
Isaiah had foretold this advance of the Assyrian upon Jerusa¬
lem, and describes it with all the accuracy of a historic record.
He speaks of this Assyrian host as the rod of God's anger, and
the staff of his indignation : " I will send him against a hypo¬
critical nation, and against the people of my wrath will I give
him a charge to take the spoil and to take the prey, and to
PROPHECY OF ISAIAH
183
tread them down like the mire of the streets." (Is. x.) Tlie
army advanced upon the great northern road towards Jerusa¬
lem ; when near Bethel they made a turn eastward over the
ground we were now visiting. Standing in the midst of these
old cities, most of them now in ruins, how vividly and accurately
the movements of the invading army were portrayed ? " He is
come to Ai, he is passed to Migron ; at Michmash he hath laid
up his carriages. They have gone over the passage; they
have taken up their lodging at Geba ; Eamah is afraid. Gibeah
of Saul is fled. Lift up thy voice, O daughter of Gallim;
cause it to be heard unto Laish, 0 poor Anathoth." Here, too,
we were in the immediate vicinity of that wonderful exploit of
JONATHAK AND HIS ARMOR-BEABEB.
As we sat upon the hill a little below the village of Geba, the
scene of this interesting event was all before us, and we took
out our Bibles to read again the narrative. The Philistines had
suddenly risen up against the Israelites, and with an immense
army had encamped at Michmash; as we looked out to the
northward we could see the place, and the very ground over
which this vast horde of the enemies of the Hebrews spread
themselves. Saul had no time to gather an army, and was here
in Geba with only six hundred men, but God had determined
to save. Israel from this sudden uprising of their enemies.
Jonathan devised a bold and novel plan of attack. Only a
narrow ravine separated the two armies. That narrow ravine
was just before us ; down into its dark depths we could look,
and the bolJ rocky acclivities of the opposite side were visible.
Accompanied only by his armor-bearer, the bold-hearted son of
Saul descends into the valley and climbs up yonder northern
rocky precipice on his hands and feet. "Where Bozez and
Seneh, the two sharp rocks, one on the one side, and one on the
other were, cannot now be exactly determined, but one of them
was on the north side, over against Michmash, the other one on
the south side, over against Geba, and over them Jonathan
made his way. As if springing up from the earth, the two
bold men suddenly made their appearance in the Philistine's
camp, and commenced the work of slaughter. A rampart of
35
THE HOLY LAND.
slaughtered Philistines was soon heaped about them, and there
was trembling in the host, and in the field, and among all the
people of the garrison. The occurrence of an earthquake in¬
creased the tumult, and the panic-stricken host of the uncir-
cumciseJ not only fell upon each other, but fled in the wildest
consternation. From the vicinity where we were sitting, Saul
and his company saw the confusion, and gathering as many as
could be hastily brought together, pursued the discomfited
host. Thousands were slain, and the rest driven westward
through the mountains to Ajalon. It was one of those signal
interpositions of God for the preservation of his people that
fills their history with remarkable events
As we sat reading and talking over these interesting things,
an old sheik, from the village we had just left, made his ap¬
pearance and sat down near us. "We paid no attention to him,
but read on till we were through. On leaving, he followed us,
when we discovered that he had his old broad sWord buckled
on beneath his blanket, which he was making an evident efibrt
to conceal. What his design or wish was, we could not tell, as
we could not converse with him ; but we did not like his ap¬
pearance, for be had a savage and malicious lOok, and we motion¬
ed him back. He persisted in following us near half a mile, but
we kept our eye upon him, and allowed him to get no advan¬
tage over us. At last, finding he could make nothing out of
us, he left us. These villagers were the most uncivil of any we
had met with, and though we assumed a bold and careless air
while with them, we were glad to leave them behind. We now
passed on between one and two miles nearly west to
V »
RAMAH or BENJAMIN.
It is located, as all the other ancient villages of Judea were,
upon a hill. It is now but a small village, but there are ancient
ruins here indicating something of its former importance. We
took a hasty view of the place. It is beautifully situated, sur¬
rounded by a green and fertile valley. The villagers appeared
to be a much kinder hearted people than those we had just left.
They gathered around us and were importunate in their
demands for backsheesh ; but as we had no favors to ask, we
KUIN8 OF OLD CITIES. 185
declined making donations. We passed on down the opposite
side of the hill, and a few rods from the village, came upon a
well dug in the rock. A couple of girls had come out to draw
water, and one of them, like Rebekah of old, let down her
pitcher and gave us drink, for which we gave her a backsheesh
iu return.
In passing to Ramah, we left Ai upon our right, but did not
go toit, as nothing but a heap of ruins marks the place. These
ruins are scattered along the narrow, rocky summit of a ridge
for near half a mile. It was here, or near here, Abraham had
his second encampment after arriving in Canaan. It was the
second city taken by Joshua in his conquest of the land. From
Jericho he marched up boldly into these strong mountain
holds, and this city was taken by stratagem and doomed to
destruction, but was afterwards rebuilt. We now turned our
steps homeward, for we had about five miles to walk. liear
Jerusalem we turned a little aside from our direct road to visit
the site of
OIBEAH or SAUL,
Now called Tuleil el Ful, " The Hill of the Beans." This is
the theater of several interesting historical events. It is a
round-topped hill, about three miles north of Jerusalem, com¬
manding a fine view of the surrounding country. It has for¬
merly been terraced, at great expense, the rocks having been
cut away for that purpose. The stones upon the sides still lie
in great heaps and long ridges, indicating the former walls and
roads. On the top is a large conical heap of ruins. This is
all that i#now left of Gibeah, the city that gave the Israelites
their first king. Here was the home of Saul, and the seat of
his government during a great part of his reign.
On this hill the Amerites of Gibeon hanged the seven de •
scendants of Saul in revenge for the massacre of their breth¬
ren. Here occurred that bloody tragedy of the destruction
of the concubine, which was so terribly revenged by the other
tribes, and which resulted in the almost total annihilation of
the tribe of Benjamin, as recorded in Judges 20th and 21st
chapters. Here, also, was the scene of one of the most touch-
186
THB HOLY LAND.
ing instances oi maternal tenderness on record. Hizpah, tLe
mother of two of the descendants of Saul that were hang here
and left to rot upon the gallows, bemoaned her loss, and " took
sackcloth and spread it for her upon the rock from the begin¬
ning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven,
and sufiered neither the birds of the air to rest upon them by
day, nor the beasts of the field by night." " It must," says one^
" have been a mournful spectacle, to see this bereaved mother,
sitting by the wasting skeletons of her sons, through the long
days of a whole Assyrian summer, from the beginning of
harvest in April, till the first rains in autumn."
As we sat upon the heap of ruins that crowns the site of this
ancient city and read the record of these events, the sun was
fast sinking behind the western hills. Our day's work was
done ; we hastened into the city, and spent the evening in re-
fiecting upon the events of the day, and making notes of the
interesting localities we had visited.
EXCURSION TO BETHLEHEM AND HEBRON.
April %th. Bethlehem is between five and six miles south of
Jerusalem; Hebron about fifteen miles south of Bethlehem.
The usual mode of visiting Hebron from Jerusalem, is to hirs
horses and a dragoman, and take along tents and provisions.
Several of us had now become so much accustomed to " foot
excursions," we were bold enough to plan a visit to Hebron
without horses, dragoman or tent. Our company consisted
of my two traveling companions who came with me finm
Egypt; a young man from the city of Hew York, whom we
met in Jerusalem ; an English clergyman; the Irish Franciscan
monk, of whom we have before spoken, from "our convent;"
and an Irish Catholic priest from the Emerald Isle, here on a
visit to the "holy places." Thus we had quite a diversity in
nationality, religion and tongues ; for though there were but
seven of us, we represented three nations and five different re
ligious denominations. Our monk could talk Arabic, two of
our number spoke German and French, two Italian, all of us
English, and seven being a perfect number, we had no fears ol
a failure in our enterprise.
A. WALK lO BETHLEHEM.
187
We left Jerusalem about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, intend
mg to spend the first night in Bethlehem. We passed out of
the Jaffa Gate, crossed the valley of Hinnom, near the ruins of
one of the old aqueducts of Solomon, and along the base of
the Hill of Evil Counsel. On this side of the city can be iceu
what industry and enterprise can do in restoring the fertility of
these rocky hills. English and American skill and capital have
been expended in the erection of buildings and the cultivation
of the soil. In one place, a long row of neat stone tenements
have been put up by a wealthy Jew, all now occupied by
Israelites engaged in the cultivation of the soil ; the ruined
terraces upon some of the hill-sides have been restored, the
me, fig, and olive trees again planted. The result shows th*at
these barren hills can be made fruitful, and from these little
cultivated spots one can understand something of what the
country once was when all these hill-sides were clothed with a
luxuriant growth of vegetation.
PLAIN OP REFHAIM—WELL OP THE MAGI.
About a mile from the city, we passed along the Plain of
Rephaim, or, as it is also called, the Valley of the Giants.
Here it was that the Philistines came up and spread themselves,
making a demonstration against Jerusalem, when they heard
that David had been crowned King of Israel ; and here David
smote them with great slaughter, so that they fled and left
their images, and David and his men burned them. Kot satis¬
fied with this defeat, they came a second time, and David, by
the direction fo the Lord, fetched a compass behind them, and
"came upon them over against the mùlberry trees." "And
let it be," said the Lord, " when thou hearest the sound of a
going in the tops of the mulberry trees, thou shalt bestir thy¬
self, for then shall the Lord go out before thee to smite the,
host of the Philistines." It is a beautiful green plain, termi
Mating in the southwest in what is now called the "Valley of
Roses." About two miles from the city we came uppn a large,
deep well, directly in the middle of the road, called the " WeU
of the Magi."
It a walled around the top with great hewn stones, and pro
188
T^HE HOLT LAND.
served with care, not only from its utUity in affording water to
the traveler, but from a^ traditional story connected with it
The wise men, the tradition says, left Herod to seek for Jesus
They wandered on in uncertainty, till they came to this weP
Looking down into it, and attempting to draw water, the won
derful star was mirrored forth from its deep waters. Whatevei
importance we may attach to «the tradition, there can be bu*
little doubt that this company of men, seeking the new-borr
king, traveled along this very road.
We now ascended a sloping hill for about half a mne further
On the top of this hill, and just about half way from Jerusa
leip to Bethlehem, stands the new Greek Convent of St. Elias,
or Elijah. It is a huge, but neat looking stone building, sur¬
rounded by a high wall. The reason assigned for its erection
here, is a tradition that on this spot the prophet, worn out with
fatigue, lay down to rest when he fled from the persecuting
Jezebel. These Greek Christians are doing much for the im¬
provement of the lands in the vicinity of their convent, and
have also just completed a fine improvement in the road lead¬
ing to Bethlehem. The road from Jerusalem, thus far, is one
of the best I have seen in Palestine. Most of the way a car¬
riage might be driven over it. As we neared Bethlehem, we
turned aside a few rods to the right of the main road to visit
THE TOMB OF BAOHAEL.
It consists first of a small, white, square building, surmount¬
ed by a dome. This was designed, and has been used for a
Moslem mosque, but is now in a sadly neglected state. From
this an iron door, which we found locked, opens into an oblong
monument, built of brick, stuccoed, and neatly whitewashed.
Though this building is modern, the identity of the spot is
well established. Here I recalled the simple, brief, yet touch¬
ing biblical narrative of her death: "They journeyed from
Bethel, and there was but a little way to come to Ephrath.
:ic * :)c 4: Aud Bachael died and was buried on the way
to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem." And Jacob, we are informed,
set up a pillar upon her grave, which Moses speaks of as stand¬
ing in his day. That this is the place, none, I believe, dispute
AN ANCIKNT TOMB.
189
lUre, then, 1 was gazing upon the very spot where the dust of
this memorable woman had mingled with its original dust—
the wife whom Jacob so much loved—^the woman for whom he
spent so many years of servitude—the mother of Joseph,
whose virtues alone would have given her an exalted name.
iVhat changes have here taken place ! "What revolutions have
swept over this land ! What contentions of nations for the
mastery ! But amidst them all, three thousand years have not
effaced the knowledge of this place, and Jew, Christian, and
Mohammedan alike revere the memory of her who sleeps
beneath this monument. The following notice, from the jour
nal of another traveler, is here so much in point, I take the
liberty of copying it : " The Turks are anxious that their bones
may rest near hers, and hence their bodies have been strewn
under tombs all around the simple grave of Rachael. The
sweet, domestic virtues of the good wife have won their love
and admiration, as the tomb of Absalom, near the brook of
Kedron, has their detestation—upon the latter they throw a
stone, to mark their horror of the disobedient son, while round
the former they wish when they die their bodies may be interred.
Nor is this wonderful. The wife, worth fourteen years
service as a shepherd, must have been worth having. The
whole life of Rachael is, indeed, one of the most touching in
biblical history. The sweet shepherdess has left her mark upon
the memory of man as well as her tomb. The tribute to her is
the tribute to a good wife ; and infidel, and Jew, and Christian,
all combine to pay it. The great women of the earth—the Ze¬
nobias and Cleopatras—have died, been buried, and their very
places of burial have been forgotten ; but to this day stands
over the grave of Rachael, not the pillar that Jacob set up, but a
modern monument in its place, around which pilgrims from
every land under the sun gather, in respect and reverence foi
the faithful wife and good mother of Israel."
BETHLEHEM—THE "HOUSE OE BREAD."
A walk of about fifteen minutes from the tomb of Rachael
brought us to Bethlehem. The natives now call it Beit Lahm,
"Hause of Flesh" It is indeed the place that has given to
190
THE HOLY LAND.
mankind the living bread and the flesh that sustain the life of
the world. ^ Little it was, and little it still is among the thous¬
ands of Judah, hut out of it came Him who is ruler of the
world. It was with no ordinary feelings I climbed the rugged
road that leads up to the birth-place of Jesus. The city is
situated upon a hill, the gray stone houses rising tier above
tier, presenting quite a substantial and formidable appearance,
while the great stone buildings of the convent and Church of
the Nativity, with the massive, fort-like walls that inclose them,
form the most conspicuous object in the place, looking like
some of the old fortifications of feudal times. It was formerly
a walled town, but the walls, no longer considered essential,
have been allowed to fall into decay. There are about three
thousand inhabitants, nearly all of them Christians. The
streets are narrow and dirty, and like all others of Palestine,
full of fleas. Many of the inhabitants live by the cultivation
of the soil ; the vine and olive are extensively cultivated, and
the country around has a more flourishing and fruitful appear¬
ance than the hills about Jerusalem. A great amount of busi¬
ness is carried on in the manufacture of olive wood, bone and
shell, into beads, cameos, crosses, crucifixes, and various other
articles. The women of Bethlehem are proverbially beautiful,
having in their features much of the European stamp, while
the whole population appear to be industrious and well dis¬
posed.
CONVENT AND CHUBOH OF THE NATIVITY. *
Our home at Bethlehem was to be in the convent, and our
Jerusalem monk had the sesanm, in obedience to which its pon¬
derous doors were readily opened. "We received a welcome
^reception, were assigned our rooms for the night, and provided
with a wholesome, but plain repast of bread, meat, eggs ana
tí »flee. This place is an immense pile of stone buildings, of
great antiquity. There are three convents included within the
walls—^Latin, Greek and Armenian—the inmates each retain¬
ing their respective forms of worship, and all having access by
different passages to the " holy places." The chief object of
attraction is the " Church of the Nativity." This is said to be
CHUBCQ OV THE HOLT SEPaLCHRE.—See page 110.
GROTTO OF JESUS.
Conyent etected on what tradition affirma tobe the Care of the Natiyity
LODGING IN TOMBS.
198
b'lilt over the grotto or cave that formed the stable in which
the Savior made his advent into the world.
1 have often been asked, since my visit to this place : " Is it
at all probable the Savior would or could have made his.ap¬
pearance in the world in the manner, and in such a place as the
scripture narrative represents ?" 1 see no improbability in it a
all. Indeed, it would not be strange for a child to be born, even
now, in similar circumstances. The rocky hill-sides about Je¬
rusalem, Bethlehem, and other cities of this land, are full of
artificial grottoes cut in the rocks ; some of these were origin
^ally tombs, some were probably excavated for other purposes
It is no uncommon thing at the present time to see these used
as herding places for animals, and quantities of provender are
frequently stored in them. In walled cities, as at Jerusalem,
the gates, at night, are shut, and the belated traveler is some¬
times compelled to take refuge for the night in these deserted
tombs or grottoes, and if he can find one with a bed of straw,
so much the better. It is easy to conceive how, under circum¬
stances like these, and more especially among people of such
habits as we find here, the necessities of a mother might drive
her for- shelter to a stable. It was a similar case to this that
happened eighteen hundied years ago. A decree of the reign¬
ing monarch had called a multitude together at Bethlehem.
The mother was not debarred from the city because the gates
were shut, but from the multitude of people " there was no room
in the inn' Where then could she find shelter but in one oí
these same grottoes or stables? So far from there being any
thing improbable in the narrative, it is precisely such an event
as might, in such a combination of circumstances, happen at the
present day.
But was this grotto beneath the Church of the Nativity the
one ? That, of course, I cannot tell. As early as A. D. 827,
Helena built a splendid edifice over this cave; by what evidence
she settled the question of the locality of the place it would be
impossible now to tell. Certain it is, it was regarded as the
place then, and has continued to be so regarded since. The
church now standing here is said to be the same as built by
Helena more than fifteen hundred years ago, ihough, doubtless,
194 THE HOLT LAUD.
it has uudergone many changes. It is about one hundred and
twenty feet long, one hundred and ten feet broad, and is the
oldest specimen of Christian architecture in the world. The
roof is of wood; the naked beams and rough frame-work sup¬
porting it is left on the inside uncovered, giving it a very unfin¬
ished appearance. This roof is supported by forty-eight Cor¬
inthian columns, arranged in four rows of twelve columns eacL
These columns are each of one single piece of stone, two and a
half feet in diameter,' and more than twenty feet high, and are
supposed to have been taken from some more ancient building,
some think from the porches of the Temple at Jerusalem. This
great church is now seldom used for worship, and seems to be
only a vestibule or thoroughfare to the smaller churches and
apartments of the convent, and especially to the Grotto of the
Nativity.
"With one of the Latin monks for our guide, we passed the
gloomy portals of this old church, thinking.of Helena, Con
stantine, and of the strange events of the past, until we came
to the dark, narrow passage leading down into the Grotto of
the Nativity. The monk handed each of us a lighted taper,
and led the way down a narrow stairway cut in the solid rock
"What was once a simple grotto or cave in the hill-side, has been
BO fenced in and covered over by this great church, and trans¬
formed by the hand of art, a visit to it is now like a descent
into a cellar. I cannot detain the reader by describing all I saw
in these subterranean apartments, nor the manner in which the
various rooms are arranged with the altars, pictures, lamps and
numerous costly decorations. We were shown the altar and
tomb of St. Eusebius ; the altars and tombs of Saints Paula and
her daughter; the tomb of St. Jerome, and what was of more
interest to me, his study. This is in a vault or chamber near
twenty feet square and about nine feet high. It is cut in the
rock, and has been transformed by the monks into a chapel.
On one side of the room a handsome altar has been erected,
and over it is placed a picture of the Saint, representing him in
the attitude of writing, while a large lion lies resting at his feet
Here, then, I was really in the room where this devoted man
passed so many years of his life; these walls echoed the voice
GROTTO OP THE NATIVITY.
195
of hi!j prayer and witnessed his austerities. "Here it was,"
Bays one historian, " that he fancied that he heard the peals of
that awful trump, which shall one day summon all mankind to
judgment, incessantly ringing in his ears. Here it was. that
with a stone he struck his body, bowed by the weight of years
and austerities, and with loud cries besought the mercy of th
Lord. Here, too, it was that he produced those laborious work
that have justly earned him the title of the Father of the
Church."
.In another apartment, now also turned into a chapel, is an
altar said to mark the spot where the innocents slain by Herod
were buried. Passing on through one or two more apartments,
a door was reverently opened, and we entered a room nearly
forty feet long and eleven feet wide. This was the sanctum
sanctorum of the whole building. At one end of this room
was an altar; beneath it, raised a little above the floor, a marble
slab ; on the center of the slab a large silver star, flfteen to
eighteen inches in circumference ; around this star, engraved in
i.atin: "Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary."
Around this star and over this altar are suspended sixteen sil¬
ver lamps, kept continually burning. The chapel is richly em¬
bellished with gold and silver ornaments and pictures. The
monk who guided us approached the place, reverently fell upon
his knees and kissed the revered spot, as is their custom always
when they approach it. This then was the spot that has made
this a place of pilgrimage for many centuries. For this spot
this massive convent and costly church, and these numerous
chapels, have- been erected. I looked upon the place, and
around the room, and in imagination tried to divest it of its ap¬
pendages and adornments, and see on4y a simple cavern in the
rocks, such as even now can be seen around Bethlehem and Je¬
rusalem, and into which the herdsman still drives his cattle tc
shelter and feed them. I recalled the simple scripture narra¬
tive, how Joseph and Mary, in their extremity, were driven into
one of these places, and " she brought forth her first born son
and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in
the inn" I thought of Him who took not upon himself the na-
1 ure of angels, but the seed of Abraham ; who, though he was
196
THE HOLY LAND.
rich, became poor, that we through hU poverty might be made
rich. What a stoop was that from the throne of the universe
to the manger of Bethlehem ! Why was he not bom in the
imperial palace, in princely state, and to regal honors? He came
to teach us humility, self-abasement and self-denial, and it be-
ûooved him to be made in all things like unto those whom he
«vas to elevate from the defilements and degradation of sin.
DAVID'S WELL—VIEW OF THE COUNTEY.
After visiting the Cave of the Nativity, we had time to wan¬
der about the place. The "Milk Grotto," just upon the sub¬
urbs of the city, is one of those places that has obtained celeb¬
rity, and which every one visits, without any faith in the foolish
legend that has given it its name. It is a little cave excavated
in the soft rock, upon one side of which the crumbling lime¬
stone has a peculiar white, milky appearance, giving rise to the
absurd story that here the Virgin nursed her child, and the
milk was spilt upon the side of the grotto—Whence its name.
A few rods' walk in another direction brought us to "David's
Well." This is a large, deep cistern, hewn in the solid rock,
with several openings in the top. The event that has given it
its celebrity is recorded in Ist Chron. ii. The Philistines had
taken possession of Bethlehem, and David was sheltered in the
cave of Adullam. And David said : " 0 that one would give
me to drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem that is at
the gate." And three of his men broke through the host of
the Philistines, and drew water from the well and brought it to
David. But David would not drink it, for it was like drinking
the blood of the men whose lives had been put in jeopardy to
procure it ; and he poured it out to the Lord.
What an interesting day we have had in our ramble from
Jerusalem here, and in visiting these renowned localities ! Now
as the day is declining, come with me to the top of the convent,
and from its flat roof Jet us take a survey of the surrounding
country, and call to mind some of the memorable events^thai
have here transpired, and that have made this little place so
prominent in the religious history of the world. First, we may
call to mind the interesting history of Buth, the Moabitess, the
PLAINS OP BETHLEHEM
197
great grandmother of David, who came here with her mother-
iu-law from beyond the Jordan. Upon^some one of these very
fields upon which we are now looking, she went out to glean
baney, the narrative of which is so beautifully and artlessly re¬
corded in the word of God, and which resulted in her marriage
with the kinsman of her deceased husband.
But what was of deeper interest, here was the home of the'
shepherd boy that afterwards became Israel's king. Over these
bills and through these valleys David led his flocks, before any
visions of his future greatness had dawned upon his imagina¬
tion or inflamed his ambition. It was here to the house of his
father Jesse, Samuel came, his steps directed by the Almighty,
to anoint with his horn of oil the lad who was afterwards to
act so prominent a part in the history of the nation ; whose
sword was terrible to his enemies, and whose devout and holy
meditations still continue to awaken the devotions of the pious
heart. But what was of more interest, here on these very
fields, at a later period, other shepherds watched their flocks,
and here was announced the advent of another and a greater
king, and from the angelic choir the song of peace and good
will first fell upon the ear of man.
Bethlehem is still little among the thousands of Judah, but
it has a history that will never be eflaced. Men and nations
have passed away ; the glory of Israel has departed, and the
hand of deflation has been laid upon this once fertile land ;
but here stand the hills, there lie the valleys, and these are the
rocks and the fields that were kindled by the glory of the pres¬
ence of God, and gave back the triumphant echoes of that
heavenly song, "Glory to God in the highest; and on earth
peace and good will to men." And yet how variable are hu¬
man events. How closely allied are light and darkness, joy and
sorrow. How these mothers of Bethlehem were made to sit
in sackcloth, and these same rocks and hills echoed with the
wail of thousands of bereft ones, when Herod, jealous of the
security of his throne, " sent forth and slew all the children in
Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old
and under." Then was there a voice heard in Eamah, lamen¬
tation, weeping and great mourning. Eachael weeping for her
193
THE HO^iT LAND.
children, and would not be comforted because tbey were not
But while we have been contemplating these interesting events,
the dim twilight has crept over the landscape, and we are called
to seek rest for the night. To-morrow we shall pursue our in¬
teresting journey to Hebron.
POOIiS OF SOLOMON.
A night's rest in the convent, a beautiful April morning—
and April here is like our June—a hospitable breakfast fur¬
nished by the monks, all conspired to invigorate our spirits, and
at the early hour of 6 o'clock we left Bethlehem, and continued
our journey towards Hebron. We passed part way down the
hill on which Bethlehem stands, and then commenced a slight
detour from the main road to visit the celebrated reservoirs
known as the Pools of Solomon.
Our course lay along the aqueduct leading from these pools,
or reservqirs they might more properly be called, to Jerusalem,
the grading for which along the hill-sides forms a comfortable
horse and foot path. This old aqueduct, between Bethlehem
and the pools, is in a good state of preservation, and in many
places has been recently repaired. It is built of stone, the pas¬
sage for the water about eighteen inches broad, and twelve to
fifteen inches deep, and lined with a strong coat of water-proof
cement. In the early days of the construction of these water
works, the modern method of i^arrying water over hills and
through valleys in pipes was not understood, or they had not
the art of making pipes of sufBcient strength to resist the pres¬
sure of the water; so this aqueduct is carried the whole distance
upon a level, or nearly so, following the windings and sinuosl
ties of the hill-sides like a canal. Through this ancient chan¬
nel the water was still flowing fresh and clear, as in the days of
the great monarch of Israel. Occasionally a hole was broken
through the top of the passage, that the thirsty traveler miglit
refresh himself from the inviting stream. We had occasion
several times to try the quality of the water, and found it ex
ccllent.
Although the pools are less than one hour's ride from Beth
lehem, we indulged ourselves in loitering along the way, stop
A REMAEKABLE FOUNTAIN.
199
ping occasionally to rest, or to gather flowers, multitudes of
which, of bright and varied colors, strewed our way, so that we
did not reach the place until about half-past 8 o'clock. Upon
entering a ravine between two high and rocky hills, these great
works of antiquity were suddenly revealed to our view.
They have so often been described in the letters of travelers,
it seems unnecessary to detain the reader by any minute de¬
scription of them. They are partly excavated in the solid rock,
and partly built up of hewn stone. Many of these stones are
of great size, and bear the marks of great antiquity. There
are three of these tanks, ranged along the ascent of the valley,
one above and beyond the other, so constructed that the bot¬
tom of one lies as high or higher than the top of the one next
below it. Thus, when the lower one is exhausted, the second,
can be emptied into it, and then the third through the second.
The size of these reservoirs is as follows :
The supply of water is abundant, as well as excellent—a larg«
stream of waste water flowing down the valley from the Lower
Pool after the aqueduct is supplied. The great curiosity con¬
nected with these pools is the fountain from which they are
filled—a place generally overlooked by visitors. Dr. Barclay,
author of "The City of the Great King," whom we met in Je¬
rusalem, had spoken to us of this place, and told us how to-find
it, and advised us by all means to see it. Having examined
the pools, we proceeded in a northwestern direction some forty
rods, to an open field covered with barley. Here we found a
small opening in the ground like the mouth of a well, nearly
choked up by dirt and rubbish. It was a forbidding looking
place, both from the dirt and smallness of the aperture. My
companions examined it as well as they could from the top of the
opening, and decided they would not attempt to enter. I toiJ
them I had come to see all that could be seen, and I was going
down if it was possible. So it was arranged I should first enter
the well, and if I found any thing worth seeing, I should calí
Fpper Pool.
Middle Pool
Lower Pool.
Length. Average breadth. Depth.
380 feet, 232^ feet, 25 feet.
423 feet, 232} feet, 39 feet
582 feet, 177} feet, 60 feet
36
200
THE HOLY LAND.
tb« rest. The descent was perpendicular for a little more tbau
the length of one's body, and then turned in an angle of about
forty -five degrees. There was scarcely room to crowd the body
through, and 1 was soon involved in darkness. I slipped along
a muddy inclined plane ten to fifteen feet, until I could stand
partly erect. Then I drew from my pocket matches and a cau¬
dle, and struck a light. Fifteen or twenty feet below me 1 saw
an open chamber, and heard thp gush of running waters. I
clambered down over rocks and dirt until I saw the place was
worth a visit, and then returned and called to my companions,
and one after another they crept through the passage into the
opening below. Three or four candles were now lighted, and
we were enabled to look about us and examine the wonderful
place. We stood in a vaulted chamber upwards of forty feet
long and near twenty-five broad, the sides and roof protected
by stone masonry. Upon one side of this there was an opening
into another smaller apartment, walled in the same manner.
This is the fountain head from whence the large reservoirs and
aqueduct are supplied. The water springs up in copions
streams from four different places, and is brought by smaller
passages^into a large basin, from whence it flows off in a broad
subterraneous passage. This passage is walled and arched, and
large enough for three men to walk abreast. We did not care
to follow it, but were told it was carried to the northwest comer
of the Upper Pool ; there it branched into two, a portion of the
stream flowing iqto a vault twenty-four by five feet, and* from
thence into the Upper Pool. Another carried a portion of the
water along the hill-side by the pools, and was so arranged as
to carry a part into the second and third pools, and the re
mainder directly to the great aqueduct below the pools, from
whence it was carried by a winding course to Jerusalem. The
wisdom of this arrangement, for the production of an imfailing
supply, is at once apparent. In the time of freshet, when the
fountain yielded more than was heeded, the surplus passed into,
and was preserved in the pools. In the time of drouth, when
the supply from the fountain was inadequate, it was augmented
from the pools. The entrance to this underground fountain
was, no doubt, guarded with great care, and from this Solomon
THE SEALED FOUNTAIN.
201
Î8 supposed to have drawn the beautiful comparison used in his
song: "A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring
shut up, a fountain sealed ; " and hence this place among the
monks has the name of the sealed fountain."
POOLS OF SOLOMON.
The annexed diagram, which we have prepared for the pur¬
pose, will give a better idea of the pools and the underground
passages by which the water is conveyed to them, than any
mere verbal description. The left hand denotes the upper por¬
tion and place of the well, and the white lines the underground
passages by which the water is conveyed along and to the res-
srvoirs. These great reservoirs are now called El Eurak, and
that they were built by Solomon, no one, I believe, questions.
If they are the work of that great monarch, for near three
thousand years they have been receiving and pouring out their
inexhaustible supply of waters. They are not only ingeniously
^nstructed, but are built upon a scale of magnificence that
would be creditable to the art and enterprise of modern days.
From this place the Holy City and Temple were supplied with
water. The termination of the long aqueduct, it is said, may
still be seen in the area of the Harem upon Mount Moriah«
where now stands the Mosque of Omar, but where once stood,
in grandeur and glory, the magnificent Temple of God.
.WALK TO HEBRON OONTINUED.
Having finished our visit to Solomon's Pools, we started ofi'
in the direction öf Hebron, having now about fifteen miles to
walk over a rooky'road, and under the full rays Of the sun, as
they fell upon us from a cloudless sky. About four miles south
éf the pools, we came upon a broad cultivated valley, where
the natives were diligently at work in the cultivation of the
202
THE HOLT LAND.
soil. They were mostly dressed in Turkish costume, with loose
robes gathered at the bottom, and turbans upon their heads.
Most of them had broad swords or cutlasses dangling at theii
sides, and their old flint-lock gun» near at hand. Their imple¬
ments of husbandry were of the rudest kind. Their plows, the
same as used two thousand years ago—a crooked stick, with a
pointed iron upon the end, that only scratched the ground two
or three inches deep; their yokes, a strait stick tied to the*
oxen's horns. Their draft animals were most varied and fan¬
tastic. In one place we counted nine teams plowing in one
fleld. One man had a tall, lean camel harnessed to his jdow;
another an ox, another a cow, and a fourth a little donkey, not
much larger than a sheep, yoked to a very small heifer, and so
on, in most amusing and everchanging variety.
From the imperfect manner of their tillage, their crops, of
course, are very light. The top of the soil is worn out by long
cultivation, and no renovating measures are employed to in¬
crease its fertility. As we approached Hebron, we found the
country more fertile, and in a better state of cultivation than
any other portion we had yet seen. The valleys were broader,
the hill-sides more sloping, and sometimes covered with brush¬
wood. Upon many of the steeper acclivities the old terraces
were still kept up, and vineyards, and the olive and the fig yet
flourished. In these vineyards could be seen the stone towers
and the wine vats, just as in the days of the Savior. It was
not the time for gathering fruit, so we were not permitted to
hear the joyous shouts of the vintage. Occasionally a large
flock of goats, sometimes intermingled with sheep, could be
seen upon the hill-sides, generally attended by young persons
or children.
I noticed, as we passed aiong, two or three limekilns. One
at first wonders how, in this country so destitute of timber, and
even of shrubs, they can contrive to get up sufficient heat to
make lime. It is done by gathering various kinds of woody
herbage that grow upon the hill-rides and along the valleys,
and leaving them exposed to the hot sun till they are thorough¬
ly dried. Their ovens are still heated with the same materiaL
I several times saw this process of making heat. It takes an
EXCURSION TO HEBRON.
203
increíble amount of this light fuel, hut they succeed in mak¬
ing a very hot fire, and when necessary, in keeping it up day
after day. I was hy this forcibly reminded of the words of the
Savior : " The grass of the fiêld that to-day is, and to-morrow
IS cast into the oven."
But we are now close upon the ancient city. The soil upon
the hill-sides and in the valleys is mostly of a deep yellow, in
some places quite red. Some of the vines you pass have the
marks of great age. Occasionally we walk upon the remains
of the pavement of the ancient road that once constituted the
great" thoroughfare to Jerusalem. Important personages have
traveled along the way we are now walking. Over this road
Abraham probably traveled on that solemn errand, when he
went with his son Isaac to lay him, in obedience to thé com¬
mand of the Almighty, upon the altar of sacrifice. Over this
road Jacob walked on his journey to Haran, when he fled from
his angry brother Esau. Over this road David led his invading
army, when he went up and wrested Jerusalem from the pos¬
session of the Jebusites, and made it the city of the Great King,
and the capital of the Hebrew nation. And here, too, proba¬
bly, Joseph and Mary passed with the child Jesus, when they
fled from the blood-thirsty Herod into Egypt. Come, stand
upon this eminence and look out upon these hills, yet covered
with the vine, and cast your eye along the rich
VALLEY OF ESCHOL.
Now you are reminded of the story of the spies, sent out by
Moses as he emerged from the great wilderness, and came upon
tlie borders of the Promised Land. And is it possible that
grapes ever grow here in such enormous clusters as this narra¬
tive represents? These hills enjoy an elevation, and are favored
with a climate in which the vine flourishes most luxuriantly.
Indeed, Jewish tradition says the vine here had its primeval
«eat. Here, according to the prophetic declaration of Jacob,
Judah was to have his inheritajpce: "Binding his foal unto the
nnc, and his asses' colt unto the choice vine, he washed his
garnients in wine and his clothes in the blood of grapes." It
was not the time of grapes when I was here, but modern ac*
204
THE HOLT LAND.
counts sufficiently confirm the fact, the Esohol grape still prp
duces dusters of astonishing size. The autumn before leaving
home I visited a grapery in Cleveland, Ohio, where the propri*
ctor was cultivatii^ a slip from' a vine in this valley, and it
then had two clusters not yet ripe, each two and a half feet
long, and which would weigh from six to eight pounds, and 1
was assured they had been grown in other graperies mucb
larger than this. If such is the size of these clusters when
grown in foreign climes, what might we not expect to see,
when growing in their own native soil, and under the genial
infiuence of their own sunny clime ? Indeed, the testimony of
many travelers unite in fixing the weight of some of these dus-
ters at from ten to fourteen pounds. But here, too, is the
Plain of Mamre, and there is
ABBAHA^'S OAK,
Spreading wide its luxuriant shade. Just by it is a heautifol
spring of water, and you may come and refresh yourself, and
find protection from the scorching rays of the sun. The Lord
appeared unto Ahraham in the Plain of Mamre, or, as some say,
it should he translated "the Plain of Oaks;" and he satin hir
tent door in the heat of the day. It was while thus seated the
angels appeared to him, and announced the solemn event of the
approaching destruction of the cities of the plain. And
that high eminence, a little to the east of us—a mountain-top,
from which you can see the blue waters of the Mediterranean
on the one hand, and the deep valley of the Jordan on the
other—is pointed out as the spot where this hoary patriarch
stood, and saw the smoke of Sodom ascending from the deep
gulf between the mountains of Moab on the east, and the hills
of Engedi on the west.
"But you do not believe," says one, "this is the oak undei
which Abraham pitched his tent? " No; though some of -the
credulous Arabs about yoti will affirm it is the veritable one.
But though not the one, it is a descendant, and a conspicuous
one among the very few representatives of its ancient progeni¬
tor. There it stands, and there it has stood probably for a
thousand years. This tree stands alone, the ground about U
HBBBON.
HISTOKY or HEBEON.
207
smooth and covered with a thick carpet of grass. It is twenty-
three feet in circumference at the base, and its huge branches
spioad over a diameter of about ninety feet. It stands, one of
the last of that, sacred forest, vihere Abraham entertained
angels as his guests, and communed familiarly with his Maker.
A walk of about twenty-five minutes from Abraham's Oak
down the valley brings us to
HEBRON.
This IS one of the oldest cities in the world, and has a long
and varied history, but we can not dwell upon it here. A
thousand interesting incidents are connected with it. Every
spot, about it has been consecrated by the tread of patriarchs
and prophète. In the days of Abraham's first visit it was
called Kiijath Arba, from Arba, the father of Anak, from whom
descended the giant Amakims. The Israelites, under Joshua,
took it &om the descendants of Anak, and it was assigned to
the Levi tes, and subsequently set apart as one of the six cities
of refuge. David, upon his accession to the throne of Judah,
established himself at Hebron, and reigned here seven and a
half years prior to the removal of his court to Jerusalem.
The city was laid in ruins at the time of the Babylonian cap¬
tivity, and rebuilt after the return of the Jews, It was after¬
wards conquered and held by the Edomites, and rescued from
them by Judas Maccabeus. Then came the Bomau conquest,
and it is said thousands of the captive Jews were brought here,
and sold into slavery at the Oak beside Hebron. Afterwards
came the Mohammedan desolation, and then the victorious
Crusaders, and the city under them was made a Latin bishopric.
The Moslems again displaced the Crusaders, and have since
remained masters of the place. What changes have here taken
place since the patriarchs made this their favorite campingi
ground, and their flocks herded in these valleys, and grazed
upon these hill-sides !
Modem Hebron contains a population of about ten thousand.
The houses are mostly of stone, two to three stories higli, and
very strongly built. For some half a mile before entering the
city, we were traveling upon a road coarsely paved with large
208
THE HOLY LANH.
bowlders, and walled on each side five or six feet high. An
archway supporting a gate, seemed to be built merely to de«
fend the road, as there is no wall about the town. A small
garrison of Turkish soldiers are quartered here, as weL as in all
.the other prominent towns of Palestine. We entered the place
about two o'clock. There is no hotel, or public house, foi the
accommodation of travelers. We made application to a Jew
who had been recommended to us at Jerusalem. One of our
number could converse with him in German, and in that lan¬
guage the negotiation was conducted. There were seven of us in
company. He had but one room and one bed. It was at last ar¬
ranged that we should have the room, lunch, supper and break¬
fast for five ^dollars. They were a kind-hearted family, and
did the best they could for us ; but with the miserable, filthy
cookery, the camp on the fioor, and the multitude of fieas, we
did not pass a delightfully pleasant night.
We learned from our host that there were about forty fam¬
ilies of Jews in the place. Many of the race make a pilgrim¬
age here to visit the home and burial place of their great
ancestor, but Moslem intolerance prevents many of them from
making it a home. Aside from a few Jews, Turkish soldiers and
native Mohammedans make up the population. Franks and
the Frank dress are much more of a novelty here than at Je¬
rusalem and Bethlehem, as but few visit the place. The people
stared at us; the children followed after us; some of the rndei
ones hooted at us, and occasionally a stone would come whirl¬
ing along our path. We walked through the bazars, and
bought oranges, figs and raisins, and visited some of the estab¬
lishments where glass bracelets, beads and other ornaments are
made, large quantities of which are manufactured here ano
texported to other cities.
Among the curiosities of the place are two large pools, oi
reservoirs pf water, evidently of great antiquity. The lowt
one is called the Pool of David.
It is a square, each side one hundred and thirty feet, thi
depth fifty feet. It is very firmly built, with large hewn stones
It aflbrds an abundant supply of water, a large stream constant
ly flowing through it. This is supposed to be the pool ove>
VISIT TO HEBRON.
200
»vhich David hang the murderers of Ishbosheth, as recorded in
the 4th chapter of 2nd Samuel. Tradition also points out
some other localities here, but they need evidence to authenti¬
cate them, or are too absurd to claim credence, and we did not
inquire for them. Such are the tombs of Abner—of Jesse,
David's father—^the spot where Abel fell beneath the murder¬
ous hand of Cain, and the red earth from which Adam was
made. But the great attraction of the place, the sacred spot
which Jew, Christian and Moslem alike reverence, is the
CAVE OF MAOHPELAH.
Sarah died in Kirjath Arba—the same is Hebron—and Ab¬
raham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her. But
Abraham was among strangers, and had as yet made no pro¬
vision for the burial of his dead. The stern necessity was now
forced upon him by this bereavement. He had received the
promise of the Almighty, that this land should be a lasting in¬
heritance for his children, and why should he not now make
arrangements for a permanent resting place for himself and
family ? A negotiation was conducted in true oriental style,
and the first bargain and sale which we have on record, resulted
in the purchase of the sons of Heth, of the cave of Machpelah.
The specification is very definite. He bought the field and the
cave that was therein, and all the trees that were in the field,
and that were in the borders round about. The purchase price
was four hundred shekels of silver, and the title deed was con¬
firmed in the presence of the children of Heth, at the gate of
the city, before all that went in and out.
This cave is upon the hill-side, close upon the borders of the
city. Of the identity of the place there can be little doubt.
Through a long succession of near four thousand years it has
been .preserved ; Jews, Christians, and Moslems have in turn
possessed it, and watched over it with jealous care. It is now
inclosed by a massive stone wall, two hundred feet long, one
hundred and fifty feet broad, and about sixty feet high.
Within this harem, as it is called, or forbidden inclosure, stands
a Turkish mosque, once a Christian church, and for aught I
^ow. before that a Jewish synagogue. Beneath that mosque
210
THE HOLY LAND.
ts the cave. The story of the little cluster of graves concealed
there, is best told in the pathetic language of Jacob. In the
land of Egypt he gathered his sons around his dying bed, and
exacted an oath from them that he should not.be buried among
strangers in Egypt. " I am to be gathered unto my people ;
bury me vs^ith my fathers in the cave that is. in the field of
Ephron, the Hittite. There they buried Abraham and Sarah
his wife ; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah his wife ; and
there I buried Leah."
And Joseph went up from Egypt with a great retinue of
chariots and horsemen, and servants, and kindred, with great
pomp and ceremony, and laid the embalmed body of his father
to rest with his kindred. Here, then, within that massive wall,
beneath the dome of that mosque, are enshrined the ashes of
the six ancestors of the Hebrew nation. Is it any wonder that
the Jew still lingers around this consecrated spot—that they
should cling to it as they do to the moss-grown stones that mark
the foundation of their Holy Temple ?
Would you like to visit this sepulchral abode of the vener¬
able dead? Yon attempt it at your peril. You will not have
reached the bottom of the stone steps that ascend to the door
of the inclosure, before a dozen Turkish soldiers will stand
athwart your path, and a dozen gleaming bayonets will warn
you back. Like the tomb of David, on Mount Zion, or. tlie
site of Solomon's Temple, on Mount Moriah, it is too sacred a
place to be polluted by the foot of a Christian. For many
hundreds of years it has been thus jealously guarded and it
has been only by accident or stealth tl^at any knowledge of the
interior could be obtained. Why is this ? Mohammedans have
a high regard for the patriarchs of Old Testament history, espe¬
cially for Abraham, whom they call El-Khulil—" the friend of
God." In the long succession of wars that have taken place
for the possession of these ancient and sacred places, in which
Jew, Christian, and Mohammedan have alternately held the
mastery, a deep and settled siarit of hostility has been nurtured.
For many generations it has been perpetuated, and many more
will elapse before it will be eradicated. After many changes,
the Mohammedans, in 1187, succeeded in wresting this place
CAVE OF MACHPELAH.
21J
íroni the crusading Christians. The^ converted the church
into a mosque, closed the gates against the admission of Chris¬
tians, and with most unwavering hostility, have not to this day
relaxed in the least their jealous watchfulness over it.
We have spoken of the early history of Hebron, its wars and
changes—of the crusading period, when again and again i
was ravaged by successive masters. Its modern history has not
been more favorable for its peace and prosperity. It was oc¬
casionally visited by travelers, until towards the latter part of
the seventeenth century. From that period, through a long
succession of years, few, if any, Frank travelers found their
way to it. The people were restless, hostile and warlike.
About one hundred years ago, Bethlehem and Hebron waged
a bloody war against each other, and a majority of the best in¬
habitants of both villages, as well as of the surrounding coun¬
try, were destroyed. The neighborhood of Bethlehem was
ravaged and laid waste. From 1806 to 1833, mention is made
of only five or six Frank travelers visiting this place. In 1834,
Hebron and the surrounding country engaged in a desperate
rebellion against their Turkish rulers. But they only brought
heavy chastisements upon themselves. Ibrahim Pasha marched
down upon them with a large force ; the rebels met him, and
gave him battle near Solomon's Pools. Here they sufiered a
signal defeat, and retreating, they intrenched themselves in
Hebron. Ibrahim carried the place by storm, and vexed at
the obstinacy ot the inhabitants, gave it up to be sacked and
pillaged by his soldiers. From this blow, it is said Hebron
has never recovered. As one of the results of this war, all
obstacles to the visit of travelers have been removed, and more
or less every year find their way here, to look upon the home
of the ancient patriarchs.
I went up to the top of the hill that overlooks the city, and
the harem inclosing the cave, that, amid all these changes, has
commanded the respect of conquerors and conquered. I sat
down upon a large rock, and mused upon the events that had
transpired around me. Thought wandered back into the dim
obscurity of the earliest records of our race. I looked away
toward the east—the land "the other side of the flood"—the
2T2
THE HOLY LAND.
<incieut home of the Chaldean race. I saw Abraham, the
father of the faithful, separating himself from his home and
kindred, wandering in the land of strangers, until he came and
pitched his tent under the oak upon the plain that lay just at
my feet. I saw him communing with angels, and conversing
familiarly with his God. I saw Isaac, in the blindness of his
old age, laying his hand upon the head of Jacob, and pro¬
nouncing the blessing upon him. I looked away southward:
I saw Jacob, with all his household of children and servants,
taking his departure toward Egypt, to escape the desolations
of the famine, and to be nurtured in that land of plenty by
his son Joseph, whom he had long supposed dead. I saw that
dutiful son returning with the embalmed body of his father, to
lay him, in obedience to his promise, in that sepulchral cave just
beneath me, where they buried Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and
Kebekah, and where he had buried Leah ; and then, in ima^n-
ation, I looked down into that home of the illustrious dead.
"Would that I could with one stroke annihilate the intolerance
that for near seven hundred years has held dominion there;
throw open those iron doors and enter. But what would I see Î
Could I find the tomb of the "Father of the Faithful?"
Could I recognize the ashes of Isaac, the child of promise, in
whose seed the nations of the earth have been blessed ? But
Jacob was embalmed, and many bodies embalmed long before
his death still exist. How I should like to look for once on
the form of that old patriarch, upon whose monument the
•storms of thirty-five hundred years have spent their force.
I was aroused from my revery by a troop of young Hebron
ites, who came noisily upon me, with a lot of old coins, beads
and relics, which they were anxious to dispose of for a few
piasters. I stopped to barter with them, and they followed
me to the foot of the hill and into the town, until I was
forced, even with rudeness, to cheek their importunities.
Our visit to the home of the patriarchs was over. "We had
fifteen to eighteen miles to walk on our return, and the sun
was already shining hot in the heavens. We bade farewell to
the Jewish family that had opened their doors for us, left
VISIT TO BTHAM.
21»
ffebron and all its interesting associations behind, and retraced
our steps homeward.
SOLOMON'S BEATTTIFUL OABDENS.
As we approached Bethlehem, we again turned aside from
our main path into a valley hounded on each side hy high rocky
hills, pointed out as the site of ancient Etam, or Etham, the
supposed place of Solomon's gardens. Its location is in the
valley, just below the Pools of Solomon. Josephus speaks of
a place about six miles from Jerusalem, called Etham, pleasant
for its fine gardens, and abounding in rivulets of water, to
which Solomon was accustomed to make his morning drives,
sitting on high in his chariot. The same great monarch, allud¬
ing to himself, says : " I made me great works ; I builded me
houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and
orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kinds of fruit; I
made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that
bringeth forth trees." Eccl. ii, 4, 5. Tradition has long
pointed out this valley as the place alluded to in these quota-
lions. The valley is a narrow one, but v.ery fertile ; high, shelv¬
ing banks of limestone rising on either side, and a beautiful
stream of clear water dashing along its rocky bed. A miserable
Arab village, mostly in ruins, called Urtas, has long existed
here. A few ruins are scattered about the valley, a wall of
hewn stone, the massive foundation of an ancient tower, exca¬
vated rocks, and old grottoes in the hill-sides, are the memen¬
toes of ancient and more prosperous times.
A few years since a Mr. Mashellam, a converted Jew, com-
nienced improvements here, intending to instruct young Jews
in agricultural arts, and prepare them to gain a livelihood by
cultivating the soil of their'fatherland. His eiforts thus far
bave been very successful. Under his transforming hand, the
neglected valley is assuminig its ancient fertility and beauty.
Ho IS able to irrigate the soil by the copious streams of water
tliat come down, not only from the old pools of Solomon, but
other portions of the valley above. I saw him at work in his
grounds, in the midst of vineyards, fig and olive groves, a little
paradise of greenness and verdure, in contrast with the barren,
214 THE HOLY LAND.
rocky hills around. The productiveness of the soil, Le assured
ine, was wonderful. By properly arranging his succession of
crops, he gets four harvests in a year.
But the design We have in making such particular allusion to
this place, is to call attention to some excavations of ancient
ruins just being made. A short time before I was there, Mr.
Mashellam, in digging in a portion of these grounds, came
upon a wall of heavy stone that excited his curiosity, and
through the assistance of some French gentlemen, interested
in antiquities, who famished him capital, he had, when I was
there, near a hundred Arab men, women and children, at work,
clearing thA dirt and rubbish from this work of ancient times,
that for many generations had been entirely covered by the
accumulated debris of the valley. "And what," you ask,
" were these ruins, and to what age, and to whose constructing
hand are they likely to be traced?" A large room, some
twenty feet by forty, had been cleared when I was there, with
sides of hewn stone, and polished marble ornaments, with
marble floor, inlaid with mosaics. A division wall separated
this large room into two, in the smaller one of which were the
marble baths, with the water courses, and fountains, and retir¬
ing rooms, just as they originally stood when in use.
These discoveries seemed about to confirm the ancient tradi
tions relating to this spot. Here were the gardens, and here
the fountains, of costly and elaborate workmanship, that
adorned the grounds. How wonderful are the revelations of
modern researches and discoveries ! What a refiection, as the
mind, with the rapidity of thought, wandered backward
nearly three thousand years ! And here the great and wise
monarch of Israel had lived, planned and executed ! Here he
had acquired a portion Of that experience, that, from its unsat¬
isfactory results, had led him to pronounce the sentence,
"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." The queen of Sheba came
from the far south to see the wisdom of Solomon. Bid that
monarch, when he walked upon the walls of yonder huge
reservoirs, or rested im the fragrant shades of these gardens,
or cooled himself in these costly baths, ever dream that in
long, long ages after, men and women would come, not from
MÜÜRNING WOMEN.
215
Ethiopia, but from the far distant regions of a then unknown
world, and from far across unknown waters, to stand where he
stood, to wonder at his greatness, and be astonished at the ex¬
humed monuments of his wealth and power ?
Again we climbed the rocky hill-side that led up to Bethle¬
hem. Night was settling down upon the landscape as tho
doors of the convent were opened for us, and with weary limbs
and blistered feet, we sought refreshment and rest.
A MORNING IN BETHLRHEM.
April llíA. On going out of the convent gate this morning,
f had an illustration of the practice of mourning for the dead,
reminding one vividly of the allusions in scripture. Just east
of the convent gate was a small burying-ground, and a number
of women were seated around a new-made grave, all dressed in
long white robes, with white vails, uttering shrill, piercing
wails of sorrow. On inquiry, I found the interment had taken
placé the day before, and the women this morning, like Mary
of old, were " early at the sepulchre." I was also reminded
of what the Jews said of the sister of Lazarus, when she left
the house, " She goeth to the grave to weep there."
We had also a little time to wander about the town, visit the
shops and trade with the natives, during which time, after
much effort and long bartering, I succeeded in purchasing one
of the curious head-dresses worn by the girls. I had several
times before endeavored to procure one, but without success,
as the young ladies seem extremely loth to part with them.
They consist of a woolen cap, fitting close to the head, cloth
more or less rich and embellished, ornamented in front with
heavy rows of coin. The one I purchased, I found, upon more
minute examination, was ornamented with more than two hun¬
dred pieces of silver coin, ranging in value from three cents to
half a dollar, making an aggregate value of a little over nine
dollars, besides the silver chain used to fasten it under the chin.
Our visit was ended. Adieu, Bethlehem, birth-place of the
Savior ! Adieu, ye plains where shepherds kept their flocks,
where David held communion with his God ! A walk of five
miles, and again we were in Jerusalem.
37
21C
the holy land.
CHAPTER VIIÏ.
Excursion to Jordan and the Dead Sea—Ancient and Mod¬
ern Jericho—^Ford of the Jordan—^Appearance op the Sea.
We had now another excursion to make, one to which we
had looked forward with great interest, and for which we had
been several days preparing—^this was a visit to Jordan and the
Dead Sea. This excursion usually occupies three days—the first
day from Jerusalem to Jericho—here you spend the night;
the second day to the ford of the Jordan, thence to the Dead
Sea, and back to Jericho, where you spend the second night;
thence, the third day returning to Jerusalem. Here you are
going into a hostile portion of the country, and must take your
supplies with you—provisions, tent, etc.; and as the safety of
the country has not improved since the days of the Savior,
when a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and
fell among thieves, you must take an armed escort with you.
The Arabs on the Jerusalem side of the Jordan are all friendly;
it is the Moabite Arabs, froin the other side of the Jordan, who
are constantly making predatory excursions across to the plains
of Jericho, against whom you have to guard. Two or three
robberies had already taken place this season, and we were ad¬
monished to he on the alert.
A sheik of the friendly tribe who lived near Jericho, and whô
» had come up to Jerusalem in search of employment, oflered
us his services. The usual price charged by the sheiks is about
five dollars for each traveler, but as there were some twelve or
fifteen of us to go, he concluded to charge us only about two
and,a half dollars apiece. The keeper of the German Hospice
furnished us horses and tents, with servants to attend to and
manage them for us ; this cost us each about one dollar and a
quarter a day, while each one was expected to look out for
A EIDE TO JERICHO 217
•
Liluseli" for his three days' rations. Myself and comrade put a
couple of dollars into the right hand of Joseph, our convent
cook, and a liberal backsheesh into his left, and forthwith our
traveling bags were so bountifully stufied from the convent
etores, with bread, ham, fried chickens, cheese, raisins, figs and
the like, that no fears of famine haunted us during our excur¬
sion. Under this arrangement, our three days' excursion cost
as about nine dollars each. A more common method is to hire
a dragoman, who furnishes escort, tents, provisions, and all
needed requisites; in this way it usually costs each traveler
from fifteen to twenty dollars.
All things being in readiness, we left Jerusalem between ten
and eleven o'clock, passed out of St. Stephen's Gate, crossed
the valley of Jehoshaphat and the brook Kidron, wound
around the southern brow of Olivet, leaving Bethany a little
distance ußon.our left. In about an hour, having passed over
a desolate looking rocky ridge, and wound our way down a
long stony declivity into a deep, wild looking ravine, we came to •
a fine fountain of water. This is supposed to be the Enshe-
mesh mentioned by Joshua, xv. 7, in designating the boundaries
of the tribes. The^fountain was formerly fitted up at great ex¬
pense; a large stone trough still remains, and over it an old
Saracenic arch, while the great hewn stones that once consti¬
tuted the building are scattered about in wild confusion. At
this place travelers from Jerusalem to Jericho always stop
to refresh themselves; and here, no doubt, the Savior and
his disciples often rested as they passed between the two places.
Leaving this fountain, we passed on for a couple of hours
through a rough, hilly country. The valleys were cultivated,
and occasionally a fellah could be seen driving his antique
looking plow through the soil, while cultivated patches of
barley could be seen upon the hUl-sides, and occasionally a
flock of sheep or goats, watched by the women or children.
These hills still bore traces of the ancient terraces, and in the
growing crops gave evidence of the fertility they still possessed,
tíoon the country became more wild and broken ; the hills rose
up in rugged aspect about us, and the defiles were deep and
narrow. Some idea of these may be formed from the pmture
218
THE HOLT LAN».
upon the opposite page. About one o'clock we were climbing
along a rocky ascent, so difficult, both from the steepness of
its sides and of the rocks that blocked the road, we were com¬
pelled to dismount and lead our horses. On the top of this
bleak elevation, we found the ruins of an immense stone
building ; old, dilapidated walls and ruined arches are still leñ
standing. There is also a deep well, cut in the solid rock,
while great caverns have been hewn in the hill-sides. Wnen
and by whom these were constructed, none can now tell. Upon
this hill we stopped, and in the shade of the old walls took
our noon-day lunch.
Again we were on our way, sometimes climbing the hill-sides,
sometimes making a precipitous descent into some deep valley ;
now we were trying to select the place where the man in the
parable fell among thieves, and sometimes were wondering if
such a place was not the location of the inn where the good
Samaritan brought him. Then, again, we were trying to im¬
agine if there was any danger of our sharing the same fate ;
and as we looked along some rocky gorge, we could almost
fancy we caught glimpses of the lurking Bedawin, with his
old musket and flowing robe. As we approached the Jordan,
the country became more broken—the mountains high^—the
ravines deeper—the peaks sharper, their sides more precint¬
en s, sometimes broken into ragged cliflfe, rising almost perpen¬
dicularly to a dizzy bight. These cliffs were mostly limestone,
sometimes of a' chalky whiteness, resting upon a base of varie¬
gated flint. One writer aptly remarks of these mountmns,
they " seem to have been loosened from their foundations, and
rent to pieces by some terrible convulsion, and then left to be
scathed by the burning rays of the sun."
ELIJAH AND THE KAVENS
About four o'clock, as we wound our way, at a high elevation,
around one of these great chalky cliffs, we saw upon our left a
depp ravine, where the water had cut its way far down into the
soft limestone rock, making a high waterfall, and a deep, wild-
looking gorge. That brook was Cherith, and that wild, se¬
questered place, the traditional spot where Elijah hid himself
WILD MOUNTAIN DEFILE BETWEEN JERUSALEM AND JERICHO
PLAINS OF JERICHO.
THE BROOK CHERITH. 221
Irom the persecuting Ahab, and where the ravens brought him
bread and meat in the morning, and bread and meat in the
evening. "We dismounted, and clambered down the rocky sides
to get a better view of the place, and to listen to the dashing
water as it went leaping over the cataract, and sparkling along
its bed of foam. " And here," we said, " the faithful propho
was miraculously sustained while the dearth was in the land,
until the brook was dried up;" and while we were thinking
ai»on the strange event, just at that very moment, as if to add
to the vividness of the scripture narrative, a large black raven
set up a croaking almost immediately over my head. I looked
up, almost expecting to see him with a supply in his mouth, on
an errand of mercy for the old prophet of the Lord. A more
secluded glen, or appropriate hiding place, could scarcely be
imagined. This ravine is now called "Wady el Kelt, is very
narrow, and from four hundred to five hundred feet deep.
The sides are almost perpendicular, and the noisy streamlet
that goes gliding through it is fringed with oleander and
other shrubs. The steep, rocky acclivities are pierced with
numerous grottoes, in former ages the abodes of anchorites, who
sought salvation in acts of austerity about all these localities
that- had been marked by the miracles of scripture. The
mouth of this ravine, where it opens upon the valley just below
us, is undoubtedly the valley of Achor, where Achan was
stoned.
Occasionally on our route we could see the remains of tne
old Roman road that once led from Jerusalem to the rich
plains and populous city of the Jordan. How different now
from the days when these hills were adorned with the olive and
the vine—^when Herod, Cleopatra, and other kings and princes,
were accustomed to ride here in courtly pomp and splendor.
The hill we were now on was one of those that skirted the
plain of the Jordan, and as we wound around it, suddenly,
from our high elevation, we caught a view of the country
below, and the waters of that wonderful sea of death that roll
their leaden waves over the ruined and sunken cities that once
existed there. By a long and winding desöent, we at last
reached the plain, very near the site of old Jericho. This, to
222
THK HOLY LAND.
US, was a place of great interest, and it was with no ordinarj
feelings of awe and reverence we rode over the ground where
stood the city renowned in the wonderful conquests of Joshua.
Though we returned to the place and examined it more leis¬
urely, we shall, for the sake of a more connected narrative,
*•
give the whole account as we proceed.
THE THREE JEBICH0E8.
As we struck the plain we turned to the left, riding a little
more than a mile along the base of the hills, when we were
upon the supposed site of ancient Jericho, or the Jericho of the
Old Testament—the City of Palm Trees. Near by is the valley
of Achor, where the terrible execution of Ach an took place.
The high mountain that rises up in the rear of the place is
called Quarantania, from its being the traditional place of the
forty days' fast of the Savior. Between it and Jerusalem is the
wilderness of Judea. The mountain has a desolate and gloomy
appearance. Upon its top may be seen a little, solitary look-
iilg chapel of the monks, while along up its chalky, precipit¬
ous sides, may still be seen numerous caves and grottoes, dug
in more superstitious times, by religious devotees, and once in¬
habited by these misguided zealots. I noticed several of these
high up the cliff had been seized upon by some poor Arab
families, and converted into temporary residences. No one
looking upon the scenery here, can fail to appreciate the accu¬
rate description of Milton :
" It was a mountain at whose verdant feet
A spacious plain, outstretched in circuit wide,
Lay pleasant; from his side two rivers flowed,
The one winding, the other straight, and left betwesin
Fair champaign with less rivers intervened.
Then meeting joined their tribute to the sea;
Fertile of corn the glebe, of oil, and wine ;
With herds the pastures thronged, with flocks the hills,
Huge cities and high-towered, that well might seem
The seats of mightiest monarchs, and so large
The prospect was, that here and there was room
For harren desert, fountainless and dry.
To this high mountain, too, the tempter brought
Our Savior, and new train of words began."
JBRICHO OP JOSHUA.
223
Xear by, in the midst of luxuriant and tangled foliage,
i^ursting from the base of a high mound, is a copious fountain
of water, now called Fountain of the Sultan. The water is
.slightly tepid hut sweet. There can he no doubt hut this is the'
fountain whose waters were healed by the prophet Elisha (2
Kings, xix. 22); therefore we are certain here is the site of ancient
Jericho—^here was the Jericho of Joshua and the prophets.
The whole plain about here is covered with mounds of ancient
ruins, heaps of rough stones, the whole intermingled with
fragments of pottery, while large portions are overgrown and
almost concealed from view by tall weeds, and a luxuriant
growth of brushwood.
We drinked from the waters of the fountain, recalling the
story of their miraculous cleansing by the prophet of the
Lord ; then climbed the high m^und from the base of which
they spring, and sat down to recall the former history of the
place, and reflect upon its utter overthrow. ÏTot a vestige of
that old city now remains; and yet what wonderful events
have here transpired Í Here, on this very spot, the great work
of the conquest and subjugation of the land by the Israelites
commenced. We could look across the plain of the Jordan to
the hills of Moab, where the hosts of Israel were encamped.
To this place Joshua sent spies. Hete they were received and
hid by Rah ab, until they could be sent away in safety. Here
it was that the mysterious circuit of the city was made by
seven priests, bearing seven trumpets, accompanied by the ark
of God, when, on the seventh day, the walls were overthrown.
The destruction of Jericho was complete ; it was not only ut^
terly overthrown, but a curse of a most singular kind was pro¬
nounced against the one that should rebuild it : " Cursed be
the man before the Lord, that riseth up and buildeth this city
Jericho ; he shall lay the foundation thereof in his first born,
and in his youngest son shall he set up the gates of it."
jebicho bebuilt.
A little more than five hundred years after its destruction,
txx the reign of the wicked king Ahab, Hiel the Bethelite,
either having forgotten the curse, or impiously defying it, com-
224
THE HOLY LAND.
menced rebuilding the city. The graphic description given os
in the word of God is : " He laid the foundation thereof in
Abiram, his first born, and set up the gates thereof in his
youngest son Segub" (1 Eings, xvi. 34) ; meaning, as we are
told, that the death of his children commenced with the com¬
mencement of the work, and its completion found him child¬
less. This second Jericho became quite a flourishing city, and
many of the interesting events of the days of the prophets are
connected with it. A wild mountain pathway led from this
place to Bethel, an easy day's journey distant. It was along
this pathway that Elisha was traveling, just after he had wit¬
nessed the strange translation of Elijah, when the ill-bred
children gathered around him, and in mock derision of what
he had reported of his master, cried out : " Go up, thou bald
head ! " This act of hatred «against God and his prophets was
severely punished, and forty-two of these children, the account
informs us, were torn of wild beasts. The event is recorded as
an admonition to those parents who neglect the education of
their children, and a warning to the young against disrespect to
the aged, and disobedience to the commands of God.
THE FIRST LITERART INSTITUTION.
Here was not only a home for Elijah and Elisha, but here
they established a school of the prophets, and to this place
young men gathered to be instructed in the knowledge of
God. In connection with' this place and this school, we have
an account, I believe, of the building of the first theological in¬
stitution on record. These sons of the prophets said to Elisha ;
" Behold now the place where we dwell with thee is too strait
for us." So they proposed to go down to the Jordan, only a
short distance, and cut timber, and take every one of them a
beam, and build a house to dwell in. It seems they were con¬
tent with a more humble college than modern taste demands.
Tney did not send to Lebanon for beams of cedar, or to the
quarry for blocks of marble; willing to labor with their own
hands, they went with their president to the Jordan, to cut the
timber that grew upon its banks. Like most theological
students, they were poor, and the very tools they used upon the
BUILJDIKG A COLLEGE.
225
oci^aaion appear to have been borrowed. As tbey were chop¬
ping, one of them lost the bead of bis ax in the river, liad
it been bis own be would not so much have cared. Many
people are very careless of borrowed things ; not so with this
conscientious student. "Alas! Master, it was borrowed."
Elijah helped him out of the difficulty by cutting a stick, and
nj some strange, miraculous power, making the iron swim upon
the surface of the water. How 1 wish there could have been
Bome photographic views of this scene preserved—of the old
nald-beaded president and bis industrious pupils sweating
under the burden of their labors, as tbey added log after log to
their bumble structure. How 1 wish I could take a peep into
the rooms of their literary associations, and see their libraries,
and the emblems of their Alepb Baitb Gimel, and Saraecb
Tetb Sheen societies. Alas ! all is buried in the oblivion that
has crept over the place But their theology was better than
their college, while many a modern college is better than its
theology.
Of the subsequent history of this Jericho of the prophets
little is known. On the site of these instructive events the
traveler now sees nothing but mounds of earth, mixed with
stones and bits of broken pottery ; the wild weeds, the thorn,
and the brier grow in rank and tangled masses; no human
form is seen; no human voice greets the ear; nothing is heard
but the song of the wild bird, and the gush of the running
Waters from the Fountain of Elisha.
THE JEEICHO OF THE NEW TESTAMENT.
Jericho was again rebuilt; when, history does not inform us,
out not upon prescisely the same site. It w^as about a mile
farther to the south, and just where we struck the plain as we
came down the steep descent of the hills, and upon the banks
of the Kelt or Cherith. One of the first things we saw was
the ruins of an old aqueduct that was used to carry these
waters of the hill-side fountains over the plain. The numerous
crumbling arches of this great work still attest its former mag¬
nificence. Here, also, are the remains of an ancient reservoir,
four hundred and ninety feet broad, and six hundred and fifty-
2:0
THE HOLY LAND.
seven feet long, nov? filled with rubbish, and its walls nearljr
buried from sight. The city that could boast such aqueducts
and reservoirs, must have been a place of great wealth and
population. Here was the Jericho of the days of the Savior
and of Herod. Accqrding to Josepbus, it was a large and beau¬
tiful city. The country, seventy stadia one way and twenty
another, was watered by the abundant fountains, while the
plain was covered with extensive and luxuriant palm groves
aiid gardens, reaching even to the banks of the Jordan. These
gardens not only produced common fruits in abundance, but
opobalsara, and other choice productions.
This beautiful city and its environs was ^ven by Mark An¬
tony to Cleopatra, and was bought from her by Herod the
Great, who made it one of bis royal cities. He enriched and
adorned it, and added many Costly buildings. Here, too, this
luxurious an J dissipated prince and monster of iniquity, in the
midst of bis excesses and voluptuous refiuements, died. To
this city the Savior came ;*bere be healed the blind man, and
here be visited the home of Zaccbeus. Of this beautiful and
magnificent city scarce a vestige nowremains. Those beautiful
gardens have all disappeared ; those precious balsam trees have
perished, not a representative of them remains in all the land;
even those transplanted by Cleopatra to the gardens of Heliop-
olis in Egypt, have become extinct. Of those beautiful palm
groves, that once spread for miles over the plain, there was in
1837 a solitary tree remaining ; now the last representative of
their beauty and glory has entirely disappeared.
ENCAMPMENT POR THE NIGHT.
«
Having wandered over the site of these old Jericboes, we
passed on in an easterly direction towards the Jordan, near
a mile, and about 5 o'clock pitched our tents at the usual
camping ground. It was a beautiful green spot, in the midst
of a grove of acacia, just upon the banks of the brook Cherith.
A few rods distant from us was Hiba, or the modern Jericho,
the only representative left of either the place or the name of
the ancient city. It is a miserable, dirty village of a few dozen
■liouses, peopled by a ragged, profligate looking set. A large
BNCAMPMENT AT JERIOHO.
ARAB HORSEMANSHIP.
229
orush fence of the dry limbs of the thorny nubk incloses the
town, intended as a wall of defense against the raids of the
Moabites. These villagers are represented as being poor and
profligate, still retaining some of the great vices for which
Sodom was notorious four thousand years ago.
There were over twenty in our own company, and on our
way here two other companies, one of American and one of
English travelers, joined us; so that when we pitched our tents
for the night, there were of travelers, escort and attendants,
between seventy and eighty of us. In addition to this, we had
scarcely erected our tents, when the company of French offi¬
cers from Beirut, before spoken of, arrived, nearly one hundred
in number, and bivôuacked upon the same ground. So formi¬
dable did this render our encampment in point of numbers, alf
fears of Bedawin or Moabites were completely dissipated.
Having several Arabic and Bedawin dragomen and sheiks in
our confederate clans, they amused us with their exhibitions
of skill in tournament and tilting. Their feats of- horseman¬
ship were quite exciting. As they sometimes came driving at
each other at full speed, with their long lances poised in the air,
they presented a wild and alrqost terriflc appearance. But
these long Bedawin lances are more formidable in appearance
than in reality. Their great length renders them almost en¬
tirely useless in a close encounter, and the use of fire-arms fully
as much so when the parties are at a distance. Still, the Beda¬
win horseman continues to carry them, perhaps in honor of his
ancestors, though they are about as useless a weapon as be can
well incumber himself with. Indeed, though we paid a heavy
tax for our armed escort, we placed but little reliance upon them
for protection. A sheik with one of these long, cumbrous
lances in his hand, and a pair of old, lusty horse-pistols in his
belt, and two tawny assistants, each with an old flint-lock mus¬
ket, was all the guard furnished us. Of these two muskets I
noticed, after we started, that one the locks had no flint in it,
and very likely the barrel had no load, and so little reliance did
the carrier place upon it, he never discovered the defect till we
got back to Jerusalem.
We kindled a fire, boiled some coffee, and ate our cold lunch. •
230
THE HOLY LAND.
Just at dusk a company of the Arabs came out to entertain nf
witn some of their wild songs and dances, ending with an earn¬
est importunity for a backsheesh. The dogs of the village,
and the fleas of our tents, gave us but little opportunity for
sleep, while the thieving villagers were prowling around, watch¬
ing a chance to commit some depredation. %[n one section of
our camp a tent was entered, and nearly all their provision
stolen.
THE aiLOAL or JOSHUA.
This portion of the "Plain of the Jordan" is truly a cele¬
brated place. We have spoken of it as it was known under
Joshua—the Prophets—the Savior. In the days of the Crusa¬
ders it was also a noted locality. Under them the sugar-cane
was extensively cultivated here, and the place seems to have
regained something of its ancient fertility and celebrity, and
was considered the garden of Palestine. Large revenues, it is
said, were drawn from here, which the Latin kings gave to the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and which were afterwards
transferred to a convent at Bethany. These revenues, it is
said, amounted to five thousand pounds sterling per annum, an
immense sum for those days. In this village, close by us, stands
a large stone tower, thirty feet square and forty feet high, com¬
manding an exténsive view of the ' plain. This tower is sup¬
posed to have been built in the days of the Crusaders, for the
protection of the fields and gardens against the Bedawins.
But the spot where we have encamped had other associations
connected with it of more intense interest than any of these.
I forgot the dangers of the night, barking dogs and thieving
Bedawin, in the remembrance that the very spot upon which
^we were now encamped was the supposed site of Gilgal, the
first camping place of Israel after crossing the Jordan, and
where they first set up in the Holy Land the Tabernacle of
God. If so, what a history it has, and by how many striking
events it has been consecrated ! Here, after their long, weary
march through the wilderness, they stopped to rest and refresh
themselves before they commenced the conquest of the land.
Here, the rite of circumcision, which had been suspended foi
EVENTS AT GILGAL.
23J
thirty-eight years, was renewed, and, as a consequence, the
Lord said: "This day ñave I rolled away the reproach of
Egypt from off you." Josh. v. 9. Here it was the feast of the
passover was again celebrated, and the people, on the day after
the passover, eat the old corn of the land, and the manna that
had been their bread for forty years ceased to fall. Ey these
solemn religious rites did Joshua, in the very face of hie pow¬
erful enemy, commence his great campaign. Here, too, was
•'holy ground," fer here, near Jericho, Joshua stood and lifted
op his eyes, and saw a Man over against him with his sword
drawn in his hiand. And Joshua went unto him, and said:
"Art thou fcr us, or for our adversaries?" And he said:
"Nay; but as tcaptain of the hosts of the Lord am I now
come. Locee thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place where¬
on thou standest is holy." And here Joshua fell on his face to
the earth and worshiped. Erom here it was that strange ex¬
pedition was fitted out before which the strong walls of yonder
Jericho were laid even with the ground. Here, in later times,
Samuel came to judge Israel; here he offered sacrifices, and
here he brought Saul to confirm him in the kingdom. Here,
too, for his rash act of unbidden sacrifice, that kingdom was
taken from Saul and his posterity. "When David in the rebel¬
lion of Absalom had fled beyond Jordan, it was at this place
the tribe of Judah assembled to welcome him back; here the
prophets were accustomed to come, and here some of their
miracles were performed, ás the healing of the poisoned pot¬
tage, the cure of the leprous Syrian, .and the punishment of
Gehazzi. Truly, we have pitched our tent on historic ground,
and strange things have here transpired !
VISIT TO THE JORDAN.
April 2d. "We rose early, impatient to be on our way to the
Jordan. Our simple breakfast of brown bread, cold meat and
QggB, was soon over, and by a little after 7 o'clock we were on
our way to the waters of the sacred stream fraught with so
many scriptural associations. Our tents were to be left behind,
and we were to return to them to spend the night, so two or
U^ree of our servants remained to take charge of them. The
38 .
232
THE HOLT LAND.
company of Freu oh officers had started a little before ns, and
following in the wake of so strong a military band, we felt
quite sure our path would be cleared of all prowling bands of
Moabites. The valley of the Jordan is a deep depression,
reaching from the base of Hernion on the north, to the Gulf
of Akaba on the south. A large portion of this valley lies far
below the level of the sea. Here the Jordan finds a winding
pathway through a beautiful and fertile plain, till its waters are
swallowed up and lost in the mysterious sea of death. This
valley of the Jordan is narrowest just below the sea of Gali¬
lee, and is there six hundred and fifty feet below the waters of
the Mediterranean ; it expands to its widest dimensions in this
vicinity of Jericho, and is here from ten to fifteen miles broad,
and where it touches the waters of the Dead Sea thirteen hun¬
dred and twelve feet below the Mediterranean. Thus the
waters of the Jordan, in passing from the sea of Galilee to the
Dead Sea, a distance of about sixty miles, make a descent of
between six hundred and seven hundred feet. It is said the
only known instance of a greater fall than this is in the waters
of the Sacramento, in California. The rapidity the current
would acquire in making this rapid descent is checked by the
tortuous course of the waters ; for in passing this distance the
river actually runs near two hundred miles.
The western range of hills lying along this portion of the
valley rises up quite abruptly to the hight of about fifteen hun¬
dred feet; the mountains of Moab upon the east, at first are not
BO abrupt or high, but they continue to rise, peak over peak, as
they recede from the valley, until they culminate in the tower¬
ing hights of IsTebo and Abarim, from two thousand to twenty
five hundred feet above the plain. These high lands upon both
sides stretch away to the northward, hedging in with their
mountain barriers the beautiful plain. Between these gigantic
walls and the lower terraces that form the bed of the Jordan,
the river is described as rushing on its way through endless
sinuosities and contortions, leaping down frequent and most
fearful rapids, and dashing from side to side of the narrow bed
in which it is imprisoned, as if struggling to burst the barriers
PLAIN OP THE JOEDAN.
283
ny which it is confined, and save its sacWd waters from being
lost in the sea of death below.
The distance from our encampment to the river in a direct
line was probably not over three miles, but our course being in
a southeasterly direction, we rode between four and five miles.
We descended two terraces before reaching the immediate
l)ank of the river. These were plainly marked, and" the descent
from one to the other was quite abrupt and several feet high.
The river lying quite low, and being fringed with thick foli¬
age, cannot be seen till you are close upon it. On we rode,
eagerly watching for the first glimpse of its waters. We had
looked down into the valley from the hights of Olivet, from the
"House of Abraham" at Hebroii, and from the look-out at
Mizpeh, and seen the winding line of its blue range from a dis¬
tance ; but we were anxious to stand upon its shore, go down
into the stream, and mingle our meditatons with the music of
its waters. As we emerged from a thicket of oleanders and
willows, " There it is ! " burst from several of our party ; and
there, sure enough, it was, and close by its rushing current we
stood.
A BATH IN .THE JOBBAN.
More than three thousand years ago it was said "Jordan
overfloweth his banks all the time of harvest." Already the
fields had commenced whitening for the sickle, and the stream
was rapidly increasing from the falling rains and melting snows
of the far distant mountains of Hermon. This freshet gives
the waters a white, turbid appearance, and they were running
quite swiftly. The size of the Jordan, of course, varies much
at difierent seasons of the year, and like other rivers, the width
and depth are quite different in different places, according to the
nature of the ground. It had now risen so as to nearly cover
the pebbly shore, and touch in" some places the white, clayey
bank tbat constituted the lower terrace of the plain. At t^e
point where we visited it, the waters were now about one hun¬
dred and twenty feet broad, the depth in the middle of the
stream probably ten or twelve feet.
According to the usual custom of visitors, we commenced
234
THE Hotyj É. LND.
arrangements for a bath when our sheik interposed, declaring
the current was too swift, and that it would be dangerous to
enter the stream ; that a man had been drowned in this very
place only a few days before. But we had not come so far to
be thwarted in our plans by trifles. Being a good swimmer, I
measured the strength of the current with my eye, and willing
to risk it, plunged in, and my companions, one after another^
followed. We found the current quite strotag, so that we could
not venture in to a great depth, but far enough to accompliaí|
our purpose of a plunge bath ; some dipping themselves once,
some in imitation of the leprous Syrian, seven times ! Our bath
Over, we filled our tin bottles, which we had bought of the
monks at the convent for the purpose, with the water to be
borne to our far distant homes. And now shall we go ? K"ot
yet. Wait till we can recall some of the events that have made
this spot so memorable in the world's history. Several scenes
have here transpired, any one of which would have given a
world's immortality to the spot that witnessed it. Come and
sit down under the shade of this willow, and let us review
some of these famous events. First,
ISRAEIi'S ENTBANCE ÏO'ÏHE PBOMISED LAND.
This is " The Ford of the Jordan." Look toward the rising
sun and see that lon^ mountain wall, towering peak beyond
peak ; then look behind you and see the ramparts of hills
through the narrow defiles of which we reached this place
from Jerusalem. Here is one of the few passes among these
long lines of hills by which communication is kept up, and has
been for thousands of years, between the eastern and western
portions of the country. From their camping place on yonder
hi^ts of Moab, the multitudes of Israel came down in tri¬
umphal march toward this beautiful plain. On that plain over
which our eye can now look, Joshua marshaled his host in
obedience to the command of his Divine leader. When God
leads the commander he can safely lead his people. With the
sacred ark, the symbol of Jehovah's presence borne in front,
onward the triumphal procession moved. Less than four hun¬
dred years before, seventy souls, to whose posterity the Lord
The Eiver Jordan.
banks of ÏHB jordan.
THE POED OP THE JOEDAN. 237
had p/oinised this land, had gone down into Egypt. We have
seen them there; looked upon their afflictions, rehearsed the
story of their bondage and deliverance; followed their track
through the wilderness, and now here we meet them again,
numbered by millions, led and defended by an army of six
hundred thousand trained warriors, ready to claim the inherit¬
ance that God had given by oath to their father Abraham.
The place was "right against Jericho," the time the latter
part of April, and the Jordan was at its flood ; how was the
river to be passed? "And the Lord said unto Joshua, this day
will I begin to magnify thee in the sight of all Israel, that they
may know that as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee.
And thou shalt command the priests that bear the ark of the
covenant, saying, when ye come to the brink of the water of
the Jordan, ye shall stand still in Jordan." Josh. iii. And
what was the result ? Onward moved the sacred ark ; behind
it came the many thousands of Israel. The priests dipped
their feet in the turbid stream—the waters acknowledged the
presence of their God. Those " which came down from above
stood and rose up upon a heap ; and those that came down to¬
wards the sea of the plain, even the salt sea, failed and were
cut ofi"; and the people passed over right against Jericho." They
were moving in obedience to the commands of God, all dangers
vanished, and all difficulties were overcome. In the path of
duty we need have no fears, sink under no discouragements ;
God can divide waters and cleave mountains asunder!
ELIJAH AND BLI8HA AT THE JORDAN.
*
The dividing of these waters before the Ark of God is not
the only time they have felt the direct influence of Divine pow
er. We have already looked in upon the school of the proph¬
ets at Jericho, and seen them coming down to Jordan to cut
timber for their college ; but there was another visit of these
two old prophets to this vicinity worthy of special notice.
Elijah's history had been a strange and remarkable one, and
now it was to ha.ve a still more remarkable termination. He
evidently had a presentiment that bis earthly mission was fin¬
ished, and he seemed desirous to withdraw himself from all
238
THB HOLT LAND
associates. The young men of his school noticed something
unusual in his manner. He was at Gilgal, the very spot where
our tents are now standing. Elisha looked up to him as a son
to a father, and seemed resolved not to be separated from him.
" The Lord hath sent me to Bethel," said Elijah, " tarry thou
here." But Elisha would not stay, and they went to Bethel.
" Tarry thou here," said Elijah, "for the Lord hath sent me to
Jericho." Elisha would not be left behind, and back to Jericho
they came, "Tarry thou here," said Elijah, "for the Lord hath
sent me to Jordan." And Elisha said: "As the Lord liveth,
and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee." And the two
came hither to Jordan. And the old servant of God took hie
mantle and smote these waters, and they were divided hither
and thither, and they two passed over. Elijah was bom into
this world on that side of Jordan, from that side he was now
to he transported to a better. They walked on across the
plain; Nebo, where Moses died, was full in sight. On they
went, still talking together, and behold, "there appeared a
chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asun¬
der, and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven !" Elisha had
followed him to Bethel, to Jericho, to Jordan, but he could fol¬
low him no further. He cried out and rent his clothes at the
bereavement, and with the mantle of his master and a double
portion of his spirit—what an inheritance !—retraced his steps.
Musing on these strange events he comes again to the Jordan.
By the faith.of Elijah a highway had been opened for him to
go out, but how was he to return? With the mantle of his
master agayi he smote the fiood, and the waters were again
divided, and he returned with the strange news to Jericho.
But a greater than Elijah has been here; this was the place of
THE BAPTISM OP JESUS.
Behind us, among those rugged hills, is the wilderness of
J udea, where John came preaching ; here, roll the waters to
which the people came to be baptized. Then came Jesus from
Galilee to Jordan unto John to be baptized of him What a
strange event was that among the wonders that have here
transpired, when the Son of God came up out of these waters!
BAPTISM OP PILGRIMS.
239
In that countenance,,radiant with light and life, was seen the
kindling glory of God ; there hovered the emblematic dove, the
token of the spirit that rested upon him, while a voice from the
skies broke the awful stillness that had hushed in silence the
wondering multitude : " This is my beloved Son, hear ye him."
What event could have given the place a more holy consecra¬
tion? What thif.ang associations stir the heart of the Chris¬
tian as he looks upon this place !
In commemoz'ation of the baptism of the Savior, a singular
celebration annually takes place among eastern Christians at
these waters—at the time of the Greek Easter, multitudes of
pilgrims gather here to bathe in the waters. We were too early
m the season to witness this strange celebration, but several
travelers have given us minute descriptions of the scene. On
Monday of passion week, the throng of pilgrims, numbered
by thousands, march down in procession from Jerusalem, under
the protection of a company of Turkish soldiers, and encamp
or bivouac upon the plain near Jericho. Early the following
morning, while it is yet dark, equipped with torches, and most
of them arrayed in white robes prepared for the occasion, they
commence a tumultuous march for the Jordan. Lieutenant
Lynch, of the United States exploring expedition, was en¬
camped here in the spring of 1847, and gives us a graphic de¬
scription of the scene as he then witnessed it. As early as
three o'clock in the morning they saw thousands of torchea.
gleaming through the darkness, and moving toward them.
Men, women and children, mounted on camels, donkeys, mules,
and horses, rushing impetuously toward the bank, presenting
the appearance of fugitives from a routed army. At five
o'clock, just at the dawn of day, the last part of the proces¬
sion was seen coming over the crest of a high ridge, in one
tumultuous and eager throng.
"In all the wild haste of a disorderly rout, Copts and Rus¬
sians, Poles, Armenians, Greeks and Syrians, from all parts of
Asia, from Europe, from Africa and from far-distant America,
on they came ; men, women and children, of every age and hue.
and in every variety of costume ; talking, screaming, shouting,
in almost every known language under the sun. Mounted as
240
THE HOLT LAxíD.
variuasly as those who had preceded them, many of tb«
women and children were suspended in baskets or confined in
cages ; and, with their eyes strained toward the river, heedless
of all intervening obstacles, they hurried eagerly forward, and
dismounting in haste, and disrobing with precipitation, rushed
down the bank and threw themselves into the stream.
" They seemed to be absorbed by one impulsive feeling, and
perfectly regardless of the observations of others. Each one
plunged himself, or was dipped by another, three times, below
the surface, in honor of the Trinity ; and then filled a bottle,
or some other utensil, from the river. The bathing-dress of
many of the pilgrims was a white gown with a black cross
upon it. Most of them, as soon as they were dressed, cut
branches of the agnus castus, or willow ; and, dipping them in
the consecrated stream, bore them away as memorials of theii
visit.
" In an hour, they began to disappear ; and in less than three
hours the trodden surface of the lately crowded bank reflected
no humau shadow. The pageant disappeared as rapidly as it
had approached, and left us once more the silence and the soli¬
tude of the wilderness. It was like a dream. An immense
crowd of human beings, said to be eight thousand, but I
thought not so many, had passed and repassed before our tents
and left not a vestige behind them."
Such are some of the events that have transpired in this im¬
mediate vicinity. "What a history this part of Jordan and its
plain has! But alas, how changed from the days of the
prophets and the Savior, when populous cities, groves of palm,
and beautiful gardens abounded here, and the valley was filled
with industry and beauty ! All has become a wilderness, and
solitude and desolation hold undisputed reign. The curious
traveler comes and goes, and the lawless Bedawin seeks his
plunder undisturbed, but Jordan has a name prominent among
the rivers of the earth, and the events that have immortalized
it will never fade from the page of history. "When will the
desolating curse that now rests upon it be removed, and the
voice of civilization, and the hum of industry again be heard
iiiong its hanks ? Here is room and means of support for a
THE DEAD SEA.
241
rmmeroua population. "This river," says Thompson, "winds
incessantly, falls every where rapidly, and has about thirty dis¬
tinct cascades. Hère is unappropriated water power to drive
any amount of machinery, and elevation sufficient to allow
«very part of this valley to be irrigated at all times of the
year. Thus treated, and subjected to the science and the
modern mechanical appliances of agriculture, the valley of the
Tordan could sustain half a million of inhabitants."
rIde to the dead sea.
Again we were upon our horses, under a full gallop across
fhe plain toward the Dead Sea. As the Jordan approaches the
Bea, the river widens and the banks are low and marshy. A
short distance from the sea. Lynch found it forty yards wide
and twelve feet deep; then fifty yards wide and eleven feet
deep; then eighty yards wide and seven feet deep, and finally,
one hundred yards wide and three feet deep upon the bar.
" Thus," says one, " this sweet type of life subsides into the Sea
of Death." The marshy nature of the ground would not allow
us to follow the course of the river, so we struck off in a south¬
westerly direction.
This sea has ever been considered a wonderful and mysteri¬
ous place. As a natural phenomenon it has no equal upon the
face of the globe, while in the moral associations connected
with it, it is a miracle full of profound and awful significancy.
As we rode on, the fertility of the plain gradually diminished,
and at last almost every appearance of vegetable life disap¬
peared. The whole scenery of the place wore a strange,
solemn and impressive aspect. As the visitor approaches the
place, if all knowledge of his locality and its previous history
could be obliterated, he would still instinctively feel that he
was in close proximity to the theatre of some appalling or por¬
tentous event. All around him is a sterile desert of sand, an.d
beneath his feet the salty incrustations crackle and break at
every step. Ho signs of human habitation—no sound of human
voice—no song of bird—no footfall of beast—no hum of
insect—a silence, profound and awful as the chamber of death,
lb there ! On one side rise up the lofty mountains of Moab,
242
THE HOLY LAND
with all their dread associations of robbery and blood ; on f he
other, the rugged bluffs of Engedi, presenting to the eye no
sign of vegetation, their jagged peaks and yawning caverns
all conspiring to deepen the solemnity and awfulness of the
scene. The traveler in this strange place, looks about him with
something of the nervous hesitation and trembling the timid
boy in the evening would look into a tomb. Such is the ap¬
proach to these mysterious waters of death.
THE SEA AND ITS PE 0 U LI A EXT IE S.
This sea, as we have before said, lies in a deep basin, one
thousand thjee hundred and twelve feet below the level of the
Mediterranean; the most depressed sheet of water known.
Here it lies in this deep caldron, ^urrounded by tall, ragged
cliffs, its bosom exposed to the burning rays of a cloudless sun,
encompassed by sterility and deathlike solitude. It is known
in the books by different names. Dead Sea—^Lake Asphaltites—
Salt Sea—Sea of Sodom—Sea of the Plain—Eastern Sea, and
is sometimes called by the Arabs Lot's Lake, but by whatever
name known, it is the same stern, solemn emblem of death.
The first account we have of this portion of the country, is in
the thirteenth chapter of Genesis, in connection with the con¬
troversy that arose between the herdsmen of Lot and Abra¬
ham, about 1900 B. C. They were feeding their flocks about the
rich pasture grounds of Bethel, when dissensions arose among
them. A separation became necessary, and the magnanimous
Abraham gave his nephew the first choice : " And Lot lifted up
his eyes, and beheld all the plain of the Jordan, that it was
well watered every where, before the Lord destroyed Sodom
and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the Lord, like the land
of Egypt as thou comest unto Zoar." In the cities of the plain,
where now these dark waters roll. Lot chose his inheritance,
and found rich pasturage for his flocks.
Then follows the account of a battle—^the first battle the
pages of history record. Five kings of this plain of Sodom
had for twelve years paid tribute to a distant and powerful
prince. Tired of this tribute, they rebelled. Then came
Chedorlaomer, king of Elam ; Amraphel, king of Shinai ;
THE DEAD SEA.
243
Anocli, king of Ellasar; and Tidal, king of nations, to reduce
these rebellious provinces to submission. The kings of Sodom,
(4omorrah, Admah, Zeboim and Zoar, went out to meet them—
four kings against five. The ground chosen for this battle was
the vale of Siddim,/MK of slime pits. This accidental mention
of these slime pits, or bituminous springs, gives us some
knowledge of the character of the country and of the agencies
already existing here that afterwards became instrumentalities
in the hand of the Almighty for its fearful overthrow. The
fortunes of the battle we need not follow—the five kings were
defeated ; Lot, his family and flocks, carried away captive by
the conquering kings, and subsequently delivered by Abraham.
We have made this allusion to the early history of the plain to
show what it once was, and that this sea was a subsequent
creation.
WHEN AND HOW IT WAS FORMED.
The impressive and graphic description of this is likewise
given by the sacred historian, and is so familiar, it need not be
repeated here. The depths of depravity into which the cities
of the plain had fallen, provoked the displeasure, and drew
down the terrible judgments of the Almighty. We have stood
upon the plain of Mamre, where the angels talked with Abra¬
ham, and God revealed his fearful purpose of destruction.
We have seen how terribly those purposes were executed:
" And the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone
and fire from the Lord out of Heaven. And he overthrew
those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the
cities, and that which grew upon the ground," What language
could be more accurate? Look upon this parched and vefdure-
iess plain of sand, those bleak and naked hills ! " And Abra¬
ham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood
before the Lord. And he looked toward Sodom and Gomor¬
rah, and toward all the land of the plain, and lo ! the smoke
of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace." Gen. xix.
It is but a few years since we had any accurate information
of this remarkable body of water. Our knowledge of it was
derived mostly from the ignorant and superstitious people who
244
THE HOLT LAND.
inhabited the country about it. Having some traditions of
the terrible convulsions that had taken place here, and of the
fearful doom that had been visited upon the cities that once
occupied its site, their imaginations had invested it with char
acteristics awful and supernatural. In addition to the fact that
its waters would not sustain animal life, it was said they were
so dense the winds would not move them, that they were
thick and clammy, and corroded and blistered the skin where-
ever they touched it—that no boat could navigate the sea ; that a
poisonous exhalation continually arose from it, so that no bird
could fly over it without being suffocated, and many other
marvelous and fantastic things. The mystery of some of
these strange stories had been increased from the fact that two
travelers, Costigan, a young Irishman, and afterwards Moly-
neaux, an Englishman, had both perished in their attempts to
explore these waters.
The flrst successful attempt at a thorough exploration of this
remarkable sea, was made by an expedition sent out by the
United States government in 1848, under the charge of Lieu¬
tenant- Lynch. April 8th, with a crew of ten men—all native
born Americans, and all pledged to total abstinence from in¬
toxicating liquors, he launched two boats of copper, and one
of galvanized iron, which they had conveyed across the country
from the Mediterranean, upon the Sea of Galilee, proceeded
down the Jordan, making a thorough exploration of all its
cataracts and windings. They then traversed these waters in
every direction, taking soundings, mapping the whole sea shore
and surrounding mountains. He entered the Jordan from the
Sea of Galilee, April 10th, reached the Dead Sea April 19th,
and spent twenty-one nights on its shores.
As a result of these explorations, it was ascertained that the
sea is forty-two miles long, and in the widest place, about nine
miles broad. About two-thirds of the distance from the head
of the lake is a broad low promontory, with a long cape oi
peninsula, called by the Arabs "the tongue," cutting the sea
nearly in two. Above this the waters are very deep, in one
place 1,300 feet ; below this they are quite shallow. Ho animal
life 18 Found in its waters, but Lynch frequently met with ani-
VISIT TO THE DEAD SEA.
245
tuais about the shore, generally in the vicinity of the fresh
water streams that empty into it, among which are mentioned
doves, hawks, partridges and hares; and what is singular,
the birds, insects and other animals, are all of a light stone
color, the same as the materials of the shore and mountains.
I noticed this same thing in the Sinai desert among the few
birds and insects 1 saw there. Ducks are occasionally seen
swimming upon the water. lío poisonous exhalations arise
from it, but bits of sulphur are sometimes met with upon the
shore, and sulphurous exhalations in some places arise from
the ground. At the mouth of one of the valleys on the west
side are the celebrated warm springs, to which Herod the great
went, in the vain hope of being cured of his loathsome disease.
Here, between lofty perpendicular cliifs of red sandstone, a
copious stream of warm, sweet water flows into the lake.
Where the fresh water streams flow in from the mountains, the
willow, tamarisk, oleander, and various shrubs are found, and
the song of birds may be heard, but over all the rest of the
banks and the shores, sterility and death-like solitude abound.
The scenery is magnificently wild, stern and impressive. At
ihe southeastern portion of the sea, the original name Sodom,
seems to be retained, applied to a portion of the country and
the salt mountains—Oosdom, sometimes written TJsdom. Here
there is an immense ridge of salt, five miles long, and from one
hundred to one hundred and fifty feet high. In connection
with these saline hills, is found
THK CELEBRATED PILLAR OF SALT,
vV^ith which the story of the strange fate of Lot's wife has
been connected. Josephus tells us that the pillar of salt into
which she was changed existed in his day, and he had seen it.
Other early travelers have spoken of this remarkable monu¬
ment as still being in existence here, and various marvelous
and superstitious stories were told in connexion with it.
Lynch's account of it is as follows: "Approaching the salt
mountain, we saw, to our astonishment, on the eastern side ot
Usdom, a lofty, round pillar, standing apparently detached
from the general mass [of salt] at the head of a deep, narrow
246
THE HOLT LAND.
and abrupt chasm. "We found the pillar to he of solid salt,
capped with carbonate of lime, cylindrical in front and j yra-
midal behind. The upper, or rounded part, is about forty feet
high, resting on a kind of oval pedestal, from forty to sixty
feet above the level of the sea. It slightly decreases in size
upwards, crumbles at the top, and is one entire mass of crystal-
ization. A prop or buttress connects it with the mountain
behind, and the whole is covered with debris of a light stone
color. Its peculiar shape is doubtless attributable to the action
of the winter winds." This singular column is undoubtedly
the result of natural causes, and yet it is not strange that it
should become blended in the minds of the inhabitants of the
.and with the story of Lot's wife.
It is this salt formation, about the lower part of the sea, that
imparts its intense saline properties to the waters; probably
the depths of the sea also abound in salt pits and springs.
The Jordan, with its vast floods; the Arn on, Cherith and other
mountain streams, have been for near four thousand years
pouring into it their supplies of fresh, sweet waters, but they
produce ho change. Some idea of this intense saltness may be
formed from the fact that while common sea water has only
four per cent, of salt. Dead Sea water has twenty-six. The
water also contains other chemical properties, rendering U
intensely bitter and pungent, making it one of the most dis¬
gusting and nauseous compounds imaginable. A single drop
of it can scarcely be endured upon the tongue. The salt
obtáined by the evaporation of the water is too bitter for use,
and is given by the Arabs to their sheep for medicine. It is
said, however, they have a process of purifying it so as to make
it palatable. The specific gravity of the water is about 1,200,
distilled water being 1,000. The following analysis may be
taken as about an average of the results of several analyses of
Its waters, showing the proportion of salt to the one hundred*
Muriate of Lime 3,920 gridns.
Muriate of Magnesia 10,246 "
Muriate of Soda 10,360 "
Sulphate of Lime '. 0.054 "
Large lumps of bitumen or asphaltum are found along the
BUILDING A COLLEGE.
247
€hore, and during the earthquakes that have taken place here
in modern times, large quantities of this substance have been
thrown up from the waters of the sea. This substance hardens
Into lumps,, and is known under the name of Jews pitch,
Moses stone, or Dead Sea stone. It partially ignites in the fire,
and emits a sulphurous smell. Quite large quantities of it are
taken to Jerusalem and manufactured into cups, bowls, snufi-
boxes, rosaries, crucifixes and the like, and bought up by visit¬
ors, to take home with them. The sea,"having no known out¬
let, the influx of the waters of the Jordan and other streams,
during the rainy seasons of the year, increases the depth of the
water from ten to fifteen feet. This is thrown off again by
evaporation during the heat of the summer, and it is this
rapid evaporation of the water that produces the constant hazy
state of the atmosphere, much like the Indian summer of our
western prairies, that all travelers notice, adding greatly to the
appearance of solitude and gloom that enshrouds the place,
lu addition to the intense heat of the sun pouring into this
deep caldron-like basin, the neighborhood of the sea is occa¬
sionally visited by the scorching sirocco of the southern deserts.
These fiery winds Lynch's men found it almost impossible to
endure, their face and hands were blistered, the sands on the
shore become so burning hot they could not stand upon them,
and every metalic object scorched the hand that came in con¬
tact with it. The thermometer stood at 98® at midnight, and
the men were sometimes compelled to wrap themselves head
and body in a blanket and throw themselves upon the ground.
A BATH IN THE DEAD SEA.
Such are some of the characteristics cf this wonderful body
of waters over which there hangs the everlasting shroud of its
own changing vapors. Let us approach the shore, and come in
closer contact with it. I found it quite different from what I
expected. My imagination had not only wrapt the sea in
gloom, but invested its shores with swampy morasses, and its
waters with a dark, turbid aspect, and overspread them with
slime and pitch. What was my surprise to find a clear trans¬
parent water, of a deep green hue, lying calm and tranquil in
39
248
THE HOLT LAND.
the sun.ight, and bounded by a clean, bandsome, pebbly shore I
Lynch tells us, be found near the southern end, in some places,
a dark scum on the waters and a marshy shore, but here there
was nothing of the kind. It was a clear, calm day, and the
water lay in tranquil beauty, like an immense mirror, tossing
the sunbeams from its bosom. It was a strange contrast with
the surrounding sceneiy, and only served to render its immense
frame-work of craggs and clifls far more magnificently wild
and majestic.
What traveler, after so long and toilsome a journey, would
miss the opportunity of a bath in these strange waters ! A few
minutes, and our whole party, I believe, without a single except
tion, were floating about like so many corks. The density ot
this sea is greater than that of any other known body of watei.
I tried several experiments to test this peculiar property of the
water ; by keeping the feet under me with only motion enough
to keep the body in a perpendicular position, I could float with
my head and shoulders to the arm-pits above the water. Ly¬
ing at length upon the water, I could not float, for the density
of the water was such that the feet would be thrown upward, so
as to submerge the head ; but when I turned upon my back,
elevated the head, and drew up the knees so as to balance the
body on the water, I could lie with head, arms and knees above
the water and float like a piece of wood, as long as I kept my¬
self in that position. The experiment has been teied of swim¬
ming a horse in the water, when it was found the buoyancy of
the water was such as to render it impossible for the animal to
keep his feet under him ; in his terror, he could only flounder
about upon his side.
I went ir to the sea with great hesitation and dread from the
stories I had read of its corrosive properties, and the clammy
prickling sensation it produces. I am inclined to think travel¬
ers have very much exaggerated this effect of the sea. K such
smarting sensations have been produced it must be in conse¬
quence of the sign's having been previously fretted by riding
or irritated by the heat ; in such cases, this water would produce
the same effect of any other salt water applied to the raw flesh.
All the effect I perceived, on emerging from the water, was a
THE DEAD SEA.
249
Blight greasy feeling of the surface of the body. I wet the end
of a towel in some fresh water I had with me for drink, rubbed
myself with it, and felt no more inconvenience of any kind.
Lynch did not find any such irritating quality in the water, un¬
less from long exposure to it. In bathing, it is best to avoid
getting the water into the hair ; and no one who has tasted a
drop of it, need be admonished not to get it into his mouth. *
"Wherever it touches the clothes, a white spot is produced from
the salt left in the evaporation.
And now, we have seen the sea, bathed in its waters, recalled
its strange history, examined some of its wonders, and looked
upon the solemn scenery that gives sublimity, grandeur and
awfulness to the place. Shall we go? "Wait.^ Cast your eye
on those scathed and blasted hills, over these burning verdure-
less plains. Are there any lessons to be read there? Look
away down into the profound depths of those transparent
waters ! Do you see any thing? Hark ! Are there any mur¬
muring voices whispering in solemn accents in your ear? Ah,
in the solemn hush of the deepest silence that broods over this
sea of death, the very solemnity is instructive ; and when the
tempest comes howling from those mountain crags, waking the
deafening echoes of their yawning chasms, lashing into tem¬
pest these dark and leaden waters, above the mingled roar of
the deafening storm, and the dashing of the angry waves on
the foetid shores, may be heard the sépulchral voices that come
up from the entombed cities of forty centuries, speaking of the
ttfue when
" The cup of guilt was full- up to the brim
And Mercy weary with heseeching, had
Betired behind the sword of Justice, red
With ultimate and unrepenting wrath."
Lieutenant Lynch, after the ample facilities afibrded him,
after having made a most thorough exploration of this sea in
all its parts, and all its surroundings, says: "The inference
from the Bible that this entire chasm was a plain sunk and
^overwhelmed' by the wrath of God, seems to be sustained by
the extraordinary character of our soundings." He records
250
THE HOLY LAND.
his impression that the mountains are older than the sea—"the
sea loas a subsequent formation." In conclusion hQ gives the im¬
pressions made upon his own mind, and upon the minds of his
men; and it is the more impressive, as coming frt)m one who
went out simply as a scientific man to make an exploration in
behalf of his government for scientific purposes :
"Upon ourselves the result is a decided one. "We entered
upon this sea with conflicting opinions. One of the party was
skeptical, and another, I think, a professed unbeliever of the
Mosaic account. After twenty-two days of close investigation,
if I am not mistaken, we are unanimous in the conviction of the
truth of the Scriptural account of the destruction of the cities of the
plain. I record, with diffidence, the conclusions we have
reached, simply as a protest against the shallow deductions of
would-be unbelievers."
The story in Genesis is a strange one ; we need strong evi¬
dence to give us faith in the wonderful narration. Aside from
the evidences that conspire to establish the Book of Eevelation
as a whole—and if we take the whole we must take its parts—
how much evidence is here seen to confirm the special narration
that records the overthrow and overflow of the cities of the
plain. Is any thing too hard for the Lord ? Is not his quiver
full of arrows, and can he not direct them with unerring skill
and certainty, and with the awful energy of Omnipotence? No
doubt but God here made use of natural agencies for the exe¬
cution of his stern and fearful judgments ; but the execution
was none the less terrible, and none the less an act of direct
and Almighty power on that account. The overthrow was ac¬
companied by exhibitions of the most awful and terrific kind.
Thç vale was full of bituminous pits. These inflammable sub¬
stances were kindled, and fire broke forth from the ground. By
the power ot volcanic action they were ejected into the air, and
came raining down from the uplifted and quaking hills. Here
Sodom and Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboim met their astounding
and deserved overthrow! It was an utter and irreparable ruin.
No one can stand here and look on this impressive scenery, and
not feel the conviction that this sea is a creation of the wrath
of God. The hand of the Almighty has been here, and he has
SEA OF SODOM.
251
lift Ms imprint on this barren plain, these scorched and black¬
ened hills, these sulphurous shores, these salt and bitter waters
of death. This dark and mysterious sea, and these gloomy
hills are monuments placed here by the Almighty, upon which
all succeeding generations may read, traced as with letters of
fire, the Handwriting of his judgments, the certainty of his ^
displeasure against sin. Jude tells us, in the book of God, that
these buried cities " giving themselves over to fornication, and
going after strange flesh, are set forth an example Buffering the
vengeance of eternal fire." God created a beautiful Eden, and
man rejected it. That Eden the joyous type of innocence has
faded from the earth ; sin reigns, and here the symbol of its
punishment remains, a type of the retributive justice of God !
252
THE HOLY LAND.
CHAPTER IX. .
Return from the Dead Sea — lsavina Jerusalem—Tour
Horthward.
We spread our cloth upon the shore of the sea, arranged our
lunch, and amid the solitude and gloon^ of the place, took our
frugal meal of cold chicken and brown bread. Here our com¬
pany separated, a part to visit the convent of Mar Saba, and
from thence to return to Jerusalem by way*of Bethlehem, a
part to return direct to the city. The Convent of Mar Saba is
situated among the wild, rocky ravines of the wilderness of Ju-
dea, and is said to be one of the most extraordinary buildings
in Palestine, built upon the sides of precipitous rocks, and partly
excavated within them. For ourselves having visited Bethle¬
hem, and had quite an experience in convent life, we preferred
taking the shortest passage home. A couple of hours* ride
across the plain, brought us to our tents at Jericho, which we
found doubly stocked with fleas, the lounging, fllthy villagers
having taking advantage of our absence to rest in the shade,
and sleep upon our mats.
We spent the evening hours wandering about the site of old
Jericho, meditating at the bas^ of Quarantania, and watching
the fading sunlight as his parting rays died away on the oppo¬
site mountains of Moab—^Nebo, Pisgah, Peor and Abarim.
Here I was in the very midst of the scenery of one of our most
beautiful hymns, and with what force the words were brought
home to me :
•
"Sweet fields beyond the swelling fiood,
Stand dressed in living green ;
So to the Jews fair Canaan stood,
While Jordan rolled between.
BHILOH.—See page 270.
FRUIT OF THE VALLEY.
26b
Gould I but climb where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o'er—
Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood,
Should-fright me from the shore."
As the dusk of evening crept over the land, we repaired to
the brook Cherith for a bath; thus we had enjoyed a bath in
the Jordan in the. morning, in the Dead Sea at noon, and in the
waters of this renowned stream at night.
APPLES OP sonoM.
♦
We were anxious to see some of the celebrated apples of
Sodom ; but it was either not the season for them or there were
none in this vicinity ; we inquired among the Arabs for them,
but none of them could show us any. The first mention of
these is said to be by Josephus; he says they have a color as if
fit to be eaten, hut if you pluck them with your hands they dis¬
solve into smoke and ashes. Tacitus in speaking of the vicini¬
ty of this sea says : " The herbage may spring up, and the
trees may put forth their blossoms, they may even attain the
usual appearance of maturity, but with this flower outside, all
within turns black and molders into dust." I find a great va¬
riety of opinion among different writers, who have visited here,
m reference to this fruit. Lynch gathered and preserved some
of the fruit of the osAer, which he says was fair to the eye, and
bitter to the taste, and when ripe, filled with fibre and dust.
These specimens he brought home, and deposited in the patent
office at "Washington, as the genuine apples of Sodom. Some
writers have treated the whole account of them as fabulous,
among whom are Pocoke and Shaw. De Chartres was here as
early as the year 1100, and makes mention of this fruit, and
compares its deceitful appearance to the pleasures of the world.
Others have made mention of the fruit, but have ascribed its
production to diflferent species of plants. From all accounts I
can gather of this fruit, it seems to be much like the "oai
halls" or "oaÄ apples" sometimes called—of our own forests.
These are produced by the puncture of an insect upon the
young tender leaves in the spring. I used to gather them by
the hatfull in my school-boy days ; they grew, many of them,
256
THE HOLT LAND.
as large as a medium-sized apple, very fair and handsome to
the sight, but containing nothing but a little fibrous matter
with a worm in the center, and when left till they were dçy
they contained nothing but a little dust. I apprehend these
apples of Sodom are a similar product, and if so, they may be
found on different varieties of trees, which may account for the
discrepant account travelers have given of thiir origin,
A SUPPOSED BOBBER AND A PBIOHT.
Amid Bedawin, dogs, thieves and fleas, our slumbers on retir¬
ing for the night were not likely to be of the profoundest kind.
The robbery of one of our tents the night before was calculated
to awaken suspicion, and put us on our guard. A little past
midnight a slight rustle in the tent awakened me, and I was
conscious some one was stealthily crawling about. I called out,
"What's wanted?" ^^Moiya"—the Arabic for water was the
answer. Receiving an answer in Arabic, I supposed, of «ourse,
an Arab had crept into our tent, and now under pretence of
wanting water was trying to excuse his presence. I started up
on hands and kness, and fiercely ordered him out of the tent.
In the dim starlight I could just discern him as, also on all-
fours, he turned round and facing me only two or three feet
distant, commenced jabbering in an unintelligible jargon. I
was too much frightened to reason, and knowing my compan¬
ion had his revolver under his pillow, I commenced shouting.
Baker, Baker, a robber ! shoot him ! shoot him ! The more 1
shouted the more earnest the intruder became, until my com¬
panion, who was more of a linguist than myself, was sufll-
•ciently aroused to take jiart in the scene. He found myself and
one of our German companions both on our hands and knees,
our heads within five feet of each other, myself shouting in En¬
glish to have him murdered, and he jabbering away in German,
trying to expláin to me his presence in our tent, while I, too
much excited to distinguish German from Arabic, supposed I
was facing a Bedawin robber. Wanting a pitcher of water
that stood in our tent, and not wishing to disturb us, supposing
we were asleep, he had thus stealthily crawled in to get it.
His first answering me in Arabic was what had misled me
KBTURN rO JERUSALEM.
257
W^inn "We came to undentand it, the scene was so ludicrous it
^oded in a hearty laugb, though but for the timely explanation
^ might have ended in a tragedy.
"yV^ith the fright and the fleas, there was no more chance for
sleep. The moon was soon above the horizon, and we struck
our tents and packed our mules by her light, and before the
first rays of the morning sun had touched the tall, white clifla
of Quarantania, we were moving across the plain. "We now
»ealized the accuracy of the Scripture language, where speak-
of Jesus in his journey from this place it says: "He went be¬
fore ascending up to Jerusalem" for we had now an ascent of
about three thousand five hundred feet to make to reach the
city. At last, the toilsome labor was accomplished; about 3
o'clock in the afternoon we wound around the southwestern
slope of Olivet. Jerusalem burst upon our view, and we saw it
again from the very spot from which Jesus looked when he
wept over it. Jehoshaphat and thé Kidron were passed, we
bowed to the guard at the gate of St. Stephen, and our excur¬
sion was ended.
ARRANGEMENTS TO LEAVE JERUSALEM.
' We had spent a month in the Holy City, and the time was
now approaching that we must leave its interesting scenes. A
company of six clergymen, three from Scotland, and three from
England, joined us, making a party of nine, and we were to
make the tour of northern Palestine together. The first thing
was to secure a dragoman. Several ofiered their services, but
we thought their terms too high—^though the expense of travel
through this land for thé last few years has considerably in¬
creased. Parties of two or three are compelled to pay a good
dragoman as high as seven or eight dollars a day. The more
there are in the party, the less per person the contractor can
afibrd to take them for. "We ascertained first from resident
Americans what would be a fair compensation, and that wo
were willing to give. At last, we selected our man, an active,
intelligent Jew, a native of the city, and who had been for a
number of years, engaged in the business. Meeting at the
258
THE HOLY LAND,
office of the British Consul, we entered into the following
contract :
"This agreement made this 6th daj of April, A, D. 1861, between E. P. Baher,
A. C. Herrick, D. A. Randall, J. "W. Coombs, Arthur Hall, Bryan Dale, George
Sandie, George McCorkindale and James McGregor of the first part, and Abraham
Mordeica of the second part, Witneg$eth;
1. That the said Abraham Mordeica agrees to convey the parties of the first part
from Jerusalem to Beirut by the way of Samaria, Nazareth, Tibeiias, Mount Car¬
mel, Tyre and Sidon ; the journey to commence on Monday, April 15 1861, and
to occupy not less than twelve nor more than thirteen days.
2. The parties of the first part shall have the privilege of directing the details
of said journey ; deciding what places on said general route they will visit, and
how long they will remain at each; but no variations or stoppages shall be made
that will protract said journey beyond the thirteen days ; and if the party choose
to remain encamped and rest from travel on Sunday, they shall have the privilege
of doing so.
3. The said Abraham Mordeica agrees to furnish the aforesaid party good riding
horses, and aU necessary pack-horses or mules for the conveyance of their bag¬
gage, and all needed assistance and protection for the security of their persons,
and the safe delivery of their property in Beirut; and should any of the horses by
accident or fatigue become disabled, others shall be furnished in their place.
4. The said Abraham Mordeica shall furnish good tents, iron bedsteads, clean
beds and bedding. He shall also furnish a good and substantial breakfast of omu-
let or cooked eggs, one dish of meat with vegetables, and tea, cofiee, etc. At
noon a cold lunch of chicken or other meat, eggs, bread, cheese, fruit, etc. A
good dinner shall be furnished on encamping for the night of soup, two courses of
meat, bread, vegetables, cpffee, rice, fruit, etc. The provision and aU the supplies
to be of such quality, quantity and variety as is customary in such traveling ex¬
cursions.
5. The said Abraham Mordeica shall pay all the expenses of said journey to
Beirut, except such backsheesh as may be required of the parties of the first part,
in visiting such places as they may think best, and he shall perform all the duties
a dragoman is accustomed to perform on such journeys.
' 6. The said Abraham Mordeica shall receive from each of the above named par¬
ties of the first part, one pound sterling per day for each day of said journey ; six
pounds sterling to he paid by each person on the signing of this contract, one
pound sterling from each one at such time on the journey as the said Abraham
may wish, and the balance on arrival in Éeirut, and the said sum of one pound
sterling per day from each one is all the said Abraham shall be entitled to receive
for any expenses he may incur in the performance of this contract in going to
Beirut, and his retirrn shall be at his own expense.
7. Any difference of opinion that may arise in regard to the meaning or fidfill
ment of this contract shall be settled at the office of the British Consul in Beirut,
and his decision shall be final in the matter.
[Signed by the parties.]
VISIT TO THE SüPEKIOE.
259
Both parties appeared in Her Britanio Majesty's Consulate of Jerosalem, and
■greed to the above in my presence.
II. s.] Petes Meseüllak, Cancelliere.
Jebosalem, April lOth, 1861.
VISIT TO THE SUPERIOE DP THE CONVENT.
Saturday^ April 13. We had not yet seen the Head of the
Convent, and we made arrangements with the monk, StaflEbrd,
to accompany and introduce us during the afternoon. We
found him in his room in the convent building. He received
us pleasantly and cordially. Hot understanding his language,
(Italian) and having no good interpreter, we could hold but lit¬
tle conversation with him, but on parting we put into his hand
the following note :
Casa Ncova, April 13, 1861.
fo THE FatHEB SüFEBIOB OF THE COKVBBT:
We came into the Holy City strangers and foreigners. We came as Christians
on a journey of near seven thousand miles, to visit the holy places where Patri¬
archs, Prophets and Apostles traveled, toiled, suffered and were entombed ; and,
more than all, where the blessed Savior was bom, cradled, labored, wept, agonized,
died, was buried, rose again, and ascended in triumph to heaven. We were re¬
ceived into your hospitable home, we have been'kindly treated, and many facili¬
ties have been afforded us in visiting those sacred places, towards which every
Christian heart turns with fondest affection. We expect to leave on Monday
morning. Please accept our thanks for all your kindness and hospitality. We
shall, in our distant homes, cherish a grateful remembrance of the kind attentions
we have received, and our affections will hereafter cluster more closely around the
cross of the blessed Savior as the result of this pilgrimage to the Holy Land and
the City of the Great King.
We cheerfully tender the accompanying donation, which please accept in part
compensation for the trouble and expense we have occasioned you. With our best
wishes for your welfare—^farewelL Yours truly, &c.
LAST MORNING IN JERUSALEM.
April 15. In the distribution of backsheesh we did not for¬
get Joseph the butler and cook, nor the old door-keeper, who
was ever ready to serve us. In return, as a parting memento,
he gave each of us a rosary made from the stones of the olives
that grew on the old trees in the Garden of Gethsemane, gath¬
ered and strung, as I understood, by his own hand. Their be¬
lüg done up in the form of a rosary added nothing to their
value, in our estimation, but the locality from which they came,
•260
the holt lanl
and tlie apparent good will with which they were bestowed
upon us, made them a precious souvenir. The Father Supe¬
rior also sent each of us the following printed certificate, which
we brought away with us, and which I here insert as a matter
of curiosity, not expecting, however, a diploma from such s
source will add any thing to our standing among our protestant
friends. We give the original and a translation:
IN DEI NOMINE AMEN.
Omnibiis, et singulis prsesentes litteras inspectnris, lectims, yel legi anditniis
fidem, notumque facimns, Nos Terr» Sanct» Gustos Domino David Austin Randall,
Americanum, Jerusalem feliciter pervenisse die 21st mensis Martii, 1861, Inde
subsequentibus diebus pr»cipua Sanctnaria, in quibus Mundi Salvator dilectum
populum suum, imo et totius humani generis perditam congeriem ab inferi Servi¬
tute misericorditer liberavit, utpote Calvarium, ubi Cruci affizus, devicta morte,
Cœlî-januas nobis aperuit; SS. Sepulchrum, ubi Sacrosanctum ejus corpus recon
ditum, triduo ante suam gloriosissimam Resurrectionem quievit, ac tandem ea
omnia Sacra Palestin» Loca gressibus Domini, ac Beatissim» ejus Matris Marise
consecrata, a Religiosis nostris, et Peregrinis visitari sólita, visitasse. In quorum
fidem has scripturas officii nostri sigUlo munitas per Secretarium ezpediri manda
vimus.
Datis apud S. Civitatem Jerusalem ex Venerabili nostro Conventu SS. Salva-
toris, die 15 mensis Aprilis, aimo D. 1861.
/—^ Dt Mandato Revemdiss. in Christo Patiis.
Eb. Clxuxns a. Solxbio,
Terr» Sanct» Secretarina.
IN THE NAME OP GOD, AMEN.
To all and each, who shall inspect, read, or hear these writings read: We, the
guardian of the Holy Land, give assurance and proof; that Rev. David Austin
Randall, an American, happily arrived at Jerusalem on the 21st day of the month
of March, 1861 ; then on subsequent days, visited the principal sacred places, in
which the Savior of the world, mercifuUy delivered his beloved people, yea, and
the lost mass of the whole human race, from the lowest bondage ; viz : Calvary,
where fastened to the cross, with death vanquished, he opened to us the doors
of heaven ; the Holy Sepulchre, where his most holy body having been laid, rested
three days before his most glorious resurrection ; and finally, all those sacred pla¬
ces of Palestine, consecrated by the footsteps of the Lord and his most blessed
mother, Mary, accustomed to be visited by the pious, and by strangers. In assur¬
ance of which, we have caused this writing, confirmed by the seal of our office, ta
be prepared by the Secretary.
Given at the holy city of Jerusalem from our venerable Convent of Saint Salva
ttor, on the 15th of the month April, A. D. 1861.
Bn command of the most Reverend Father in Christ.
Clbiiehs a. Solebio,
Secretary of the Holy Land.
LEAVING JERUSALEM.
261
Quite a heavy ehower of rain fell this morning, accompanied
by lightning and heavy thunder. This is just about the clos¬
ing up of the "latter rains;" after a few days they expect no
more rain till the latter part of September or October. It was mf
last morning in Jerusalem. I rose early, and taking my Bible,
like Peter of old I went upon the house top to read, meditate,
and pray. What a place for devotion! I was often there
during my stay in the convent. It was an elevated position,
and I had a fine view of the country about. To the east of
me was Olivet, the Mount of Ascension, its summit just bathed
in the golden light of the rising sun ;• at its base, and now
buried in its deep shadow, lay Gethsemane, reviving afresh
a thousand recollections, while nearer still towered up the
majestic dome that sheltered Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre.
From*the Bible I read again the story of the agony, the betrayal
and the crucifixion. My soul was wafted upward on wings of
faith and love, and again I communed with God. I rejoiced that
my eyes had been permitted to look on these places. I regret¬
ted I was now to leave them, and see them no more. This I
said was Jerusalem ; it is such no longer! It has accomplished
its mission! Jerusalem is on high. From this city I must
turn away, bat toward the real one I hope to be continually
• traveling, till I hail its pearly gates, its golden streets, its
everlasting light. I could not sing, but there was music in my
heart, and the soul's devotion found expression in the words of
a famUiar hymn :
" Jérusalem ? my glorious home I
Name ever dear to me I
When shall my labors have an end,
In joy, and peace, and thee ?
01 when, thou city of my God,
Shall I thy courts ascend Î •
Where congregations ne'er break up,
And sabbaths never end 1 "
By previous agreement, we were to leave the city at 10
o'clock. On arriving at the place of rendezvous, we found
that our cook and one of the servants, in passing one of the
narrow streets with some of our mules and luggage, had got
into a quarrel with some Turkish muleteers, about the right of
262
THE HOLY LAND.
way, and our cook had been arrested for assault and battery,
and thrown into prison. Our dragoman spent nearly all the
morning trying to procure his release, but in vain, and at last
was forced to employ another man. We had also considerable
difficulty about our horses ; they had been previously selected
and shown us, and we had tried and accepted them; but now
that we were ready to start, we found several of them had^been
changed, and much poorer ones substituted—a common trick
among these dragomen.
At last, after many vexatious delays, we made our escape
from the ragged, loafing crowd of Arabs and beggars that
always assemble on such occasions, eager to hold your horse,
or lift your traveling bag, or adjust your stirrup, or in some
way, no matter how trivial, lift a hand for you, to open the
way for an earnest solicitation for a backsheesh! We lefe the
" Traveler's Eest," wheeled into the street of Mount Zlon, and
went clattering along the rude pavement, and emerging from
the city by the Damascus Gate, took the great northern thor¬
oughfare toward Samaria.
In ancient times there was no doubt a well graded and finely
paved road here, and a few traces of it can still occasionally be
seen, hut the ravages of time and war have nearly obliterated
it. Again we were on the ground where Titus commenced the
siege that ended in such terrible scenes of massacre and blood.
We passed the tombs of the judges and of the kings, crossed
the head of the valley of the Kidron, and ascended the ridge
of Scopus. This ridge once passed, Jerusalem would be hidden
from our view forever; for none of us expected to return.
What multitudes of pilgrims have caught their first view of
the city from this eminence, and hailed with joy the cheertul
sight of Zion I What multitudes, as they have left it, have
paused here to take the last long, lingering look, and say
farewell 1 We rode to the highest point of the eminenceii
wheeled our horses about, and for a long time gazed in silence,
each absorbed in deep contemplation. One poet says:
"It is fine
To stand npon some lofty monntain thonght,
And feel tlie spirit stretch into a view."
PAKEWELL TO JERUSALEM
265
Was there ever a spot more elevating, more suggestive,
fraught with scenes of holier and more stirring interest than
the one on which we now stood ! From the dark mountains
of Moab that blended with the distant horizon ; from the
mysterious" depths of that solitary sea, over which they cast
their shadows ; from the long winding vale of the Jordan ;
from the distant hills and valleys of Bethlehem, there seemed
to come strange voices, whispering of angel's visits ; while
mingled with the dim mysteries of the past were the visions of
wonderful scenes, presenting in striking contrast the dark
clouds of wrath, and the radiant light of mercy. And set in
this strange and magnificent frame work, every foot of which
was teeming with history, every valley and hill top of which
had its lesson, lay the wonderful city—the city witn its history
of four thousand years—^the city from which has gone out the
influence that is ruling the world ! Every dome, minaret and
spire seemed to talk to us and the mountain bights kindled
with a fresh inspiration ! Jerusalem, wonderful city I Thou
art embalmed in the memory of every Christian ; thou hast a
home in the afiections of every one who is an Israelite indeed I
Thy high places have been made radiant with the presence of
Deity ; through thy streets, prophets, and apostles have walked !
Gethsemane, Olivet, thy paths have been hallowed by the foot¬
steps of the incarnate son of God ! His tears moistened thy
soil, and the wail of his anguish mingled with the murmur of
thy waters, 0 Kidron ! Moriah, thy temple, opened its gates
to the everlining Shekinah, and thou, O Calvary, didst drink
his blood ! How can I leave thee, 0 city of the living God !
" If I forget thee, 0 Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her
cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to
the roof of my mouth!" But we could not tarry. Slowly
and reluctantly we turned away. We descended toward the,
valley, and the long ridge of Scopus lay between us and the
city. Farewell, we said again, the bright visions of thy hal¬
lowed places will long shed their blêssed influence on the soul !
NOB AND THE MASSACRE OP THE PRIESTS*
We were now passing over a diversified country of lofty hills
40
264 THE HOLY LAND.
and wide-spread vales, the most of which presents only 4
barren and desolate aspect. The limestone rocks that were
once laid in handsome terraces and walls, are scattered about
In wild confusion, giving a ragged and barren appearance to
the hills, while the miserable cultivation of the valleys, and the
neglected fig and olive trees, deepen the general impression of
improvidence and decay. Still the close observer can easily
detect the traces of what might soon, under the transforming
hand of industry, make this neglected land what it once was
when the graphic pen of the sacred historian so aptly described
it : "a land of vines, and fig trees, and pomegranates ; a land
of oil olive and honey."
In our " foot excursions " we have described the prominent
scriptural sites in this immediate vicinity—Gibeah of Saul,
Mizpeh, Ai, Michmash, Gibeon, etc.—and need not detain the
reader with further notices of them. To one place only will
we call special attention. About three-fourths of an hour's
ride from Jerusalem, attention is directed to an eminence
covered with loose stones, the top marked by the ruins of what
appears to be a very ancient town. Portions of the rock have
been cut away and leveled, and large cisterns hewn in the rocks
are still to be seen. This is supposed to be the site of Kob,
an ancient city of the Israelitish priests. If so, let let us pause
here a moment, for it has been the scene of one of the blood¬
iest and most inhuman tragedies that characterized the reign of
a mad and God-forsaken king.
Cast your eye along the valley toward yonder hill, the sum¬
mit of which was once crowned by ancient Gibeah, the birth¬
place and home of Saul. Prom that city Jonathan descended,
after having ascertained the design of his father to slay David.
'Among the rocks of this valley, along which we have been
riding, David, by previous concert with Jonathan, had con¬
cealed himself. Jonathan gave him the sign by which he
understood that his life was sought, and that there was no
safety but in immediate fiight. Here they met, wept, embraced,
and parted, after having entered into a solemn covenant of
perpetual friendship.« Jonathan returned to yonder Gibeah,
and David came here to Hob. By an artfully framed story, he
MASSACRE OI' PRIESÏS.
2b5
secured the assistance of Abimelech, the priest, who fed hun
with the consecrated bread, and gave him the sword of Go¬
liath ; and he fled to Achish, the king of Gath. The story of
David's reception at Nob, and his subsequent flight, was made
known to Saul by Doeg, an Edomite, Saul's chief shepherd;
and the anger of Saul was kindled against the priests, and
against the city. In vain was Abimelech's explanation; in
vain his asseverations of his innocence, of the purity and loyalty
of his intentions ; his assertions that he knew nothing of the
quarrel that had excited the revenge of Saul. Abimelech
and all his house were doomed by the inexorable king to
destruction. But such was the evident injustice and madness
of the decree, not a single one of all the servants of Saul, of
Hebrew blood, would lift a hand to execute the sentence !
They dare not, and would not, thus slay the priests of the
Lord. And Saul said to Doeg: "Turn thou, and smite the
priests." And this Edomite, stranger and spy, was base
enough to become the king's executioner; seizing the imple¬
ment of death, he "slew fourscore and flve priests that did
wear a linen ephod ; " 1 Sam. xxi. In this horrid massacre,
this whole city was overthrown, and men, women, children and
sucklings, oxen, asses and sheep, were slain with the sword.
site of ancient betheii.
About 3 o'clock we stopped to take our lunch, near Beeroth,
now called Bireh, another of the four cities of the crafty
Gibeonites. It now contains seven hundred to eight hundred
Moslem inhabitants, and a few Christian families. Piles of old
ruins here attract the attention ot the traveler, among them a
fine old gothic church, large portions of the walls of which are
still standing, another hoary monument of the days of cru¬
saders and knights templars.
• About half-past 4 o'clock we ascended a long low ridge,
severed with great piles of stone. Here we paused and looked
eagerly about us—^we were standing upon the site of old
Bethel! Between three and four acres of ground are covered
by the ruins. Foundations, fragment's of walls, and heaps
of loose stones, lie in promiscuous heaps around you. On the
266 THE HOLY LAND.
highest point may he seen the remains of an old square tower,
in another place the ruins of an old Greek church, inclosed
within the foundations of another and much older edifice. A
*
few miserable huts, some fifteen or twenty in number, con¬
structed from the ancient materials, and occupied by ragged,
miserable looking tenants, constitute the modem village. In
the valley, a little to the west of the village, is a huge cistern,
built of massive stones, three hundred and fourteen feet long,
and two hundred and seventeen feet broad. One side of this
great reservoir is still entire, the others have been much dilapi¬
dated by the ravages of time. Its bottom is now a beautiful
grass plat, and near by are two small fountains of pure, clear
water, from which this great tank was ori^nally supplied.
This place is about twelve miles nearly north of Jerusalem,
and is undoubtedly the Bethel of scripture.
We may then sit down by these fountains, and with thr
Bible in our hand, that great text hook of ancient history,
recall the interesting incidents that have here transpired. Surelj
this spot is historic ground, and renowned visitants have been
here ! Originally it was called Luz. Ahraham, on his first
journey through the land, pitched his tent here, and here he
built an altar, and called on the name of Jehovah. On hia
return from Egypt, he could not forget the rich pasture
grounds, and the refreshing springs of water that existed here.
Rich in cattle, in silver and gold, to the altar he had built be
returned, and here again he called on the name of the Lord.
Over these broad valleys his flocks roamed ; from these foun¬
tains he watered them, and here the maidens of Sarah came
to fill their pitchers. Here, in these pasture grounds, com¬
menced the strife between the herdsmen of Abraham and hii
'nephew Lot, and here the old patriarch made that magnani¬
mous offer : " Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me
and thee, and between my herdsmen and thy herdsmen ; for
we be brethren. Is not the whole land before thee ? Separate
thyself, I pray thee, from me ; if thou wilt take the left hand,
then I will go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand,
then I will go to the left." From this place it was. Lot looked
down upon yonder beautiful plain of the Jordan, beautiful as
visit to bethtsli. 26T
/
the garden of the Lord, and chose him a residence among
those cities that now lie entombed beneath the bitter waters
of the Dead Sea. Here too, it was, the Lord appeared to
Abraham, and made him that memorable promise, that in our
jouraeyings we have seen so signally fulfilled to his children :
" Lift up now thine eyes and look from the place where thou
art, northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward,
for all the land which thou seest to thee will I give it, and to
khy seed forever." Gen. xiii.
Time passed on ; Abraham found a resting place in the cave
of Machpelah, and Isaac saw his sons growing up around him.
A lone traveler, with his staff in his hand, is seen passing along
this valley. He has made a long, weary journey of forty miles,
from Beersheba, and now the shades of night are gathering
around him. He gathers soine stones for his pillow, and with
the hard earth for his bed, and the broad canopy of the
heavens for his coveringj composes himself to rest. He had a
long journey of near five hundred miles before him ; he was
in the vigor of life, and though his fare was scanty and his
pillow hard, he had a stout heart, and was favored with
pleasant dreams. He saw á ladder set upon the earth, and the
top of it reached to heaven ; and behold the angels of God
ascending and descending upon it ! Above that ladder he saw
the vision of the Holy One, and he heard a voice : " I am the
Lord God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac ; the
land whereon thou liest to thee will I give it, and to thy
seed : " and here the promise was made him that he should be
jcept m all his ways, and brought again in safety to this land.
He awoke from this strange vision. " Surely," said he, " the
Lord is in tliis place, and I knew it not. How dreadful is this
place ! This is none other but the house of God, and the gate
of heaven." Early in the morning, Jacob rose up, took the
stone he had put for his pillow, set it up for a memorial and
dedicated to the Lord. And he called the name of that place
Beth-el—House of God.
Years passed away. "With flocks and herds, a large family
of children, and a numerous retinue of servants, Jacob came
back to the land of promise. Again the Lord appeared to him
268
THE HOLY LAND.
and said : " Arise, go up to Bethel, and make there an altar
Unto God." Again Jacob and all his household dwelt upon
this ground. Again he built an altar here and worshiped
God. And he called the place El-Beth-el—God the House
of God. Here Deborah, Rebeka's nurse, died, and they buried
her "beneath Bethel, under an oak." What a history this
place has I How strange to stand here on the camping ground
of the ancient patriarchs, musing on the wonderful events in
their history !
We have not time to trace the subsequent fortunes of Bethel.
In the time of the conquest by Joshua, it was one of the royal
cities, governed by a king, and was conquered by the Ephraim-
ites, as it lay just upon the borders, between them and Benja¬
min. It afterwards became one of the cities in which Samuel
held his circuit court when he judged Israel. The Ark of the
Covenant seems at one time to have been kept here, and some
suppose the Tabernacle was set up here. In the separation of
the kingdom, after the death of Solomon, Jeroboam, fearing
to have his people go up to Jerusalem to worship, lest they
should be drawn back to their former allegiance, established
idolatrous worship, made two golden calves, set one in Dan and
the other he placed here in Bethel, and here he built a magni¬
ficent temple, after an Egyptian model, intended to rival the
one at Jerusalem. Sqch was the iniquity and abomination of
this idolatrous worship, the name Bethel—House of God—
seemed no longer appropriate, and the name was changed to
Beth-AVEN—House of Idols. Jt was in one of these idolatrous
festivals that Jeroboam attempted to lay hold of a prophet of
God who rebuked his abominable worship, and his arm was
paralyzed and withered. These iniquities drew down the
wrath of God upon the place, and twenty-five hundred years
ago the prophet Amos was inspired to say : " Seek not Bethel,
nor enter into Gilgal; for Gilgal shall surely go into captivity,
and Bethel shall come to naught." Look upon these heaps of
ruins, these broken cisterns, these neglected valleys ; has this
prçphecy been fulfilled ? Whose Handwriting is here ?
Our view of the desolate ruins of Bethel was completed, and
we had now a ride of three or four hours to make to reach ths
A WILD GLEN. 269
\
place of our encampment, whither our mules and luggage had
gone. Do the hest we could, it would be dark an hour before
we could reach the place, and these wild glens are not pleas¬
ant places for night travel. We now passed through a more
highly cultivated portion of the country than any we had seen.
Especially was this the case near a little village called Jifnah.
ft needed no interpreter to tell us that European capital and
enterprise were here at work. The terraces were restored,
waving grain adorned the valleys, olive and fig trees were
planted upon the hill-sides, and the vine adorned their summits.
the bobber's fountain.
From this we passed into a region of the most wild and
romantic scenery. Occasionally the remains of the old Roman
road, in some places quite perfect, could be seen. Along this
route Titus came with his invading army, and not far from us
was pointed out a place where he made one of his encamp¬
ments. The scenery of our road was constantly changing;
sometimes we were clambering along hill-sides, among limestone
bowlders, and the jagged points of liniestone rocks, and again
we plunged into the bottom of some deep glen, making our
way along the rocky bed of some winter torrent. Just about
dusk one of these wild glens expanded a little, giving a few
rods of breadth to the valley, and the trickling waters from
the rocks, festooned with ferns and trailing vines, were received
into artificial basins cut in the bottom of the ledge. This
'Omantic place was distinguished by the suggestive name of
" The Robber's Fountain." The name, the wildness of the
place, its remoteness from human habitation, the rocky hills
that rose up around us, the sombre shades of the evening, the
solemn silence that brooded over the scene, all conspired to
overawe the mind with an instinctive sense of fear, though
we knew there was little or nothing to dread from robbér bands.
Refreshing ourselves and horses from the fountain, on we
hastened, for it'was now nearly dark, and we had four or five
miles of this gloomy, almost trackless road to traverse to
reach our tents. About 8 o'clock we reached our camp ; the
cook soon had his. smoking viands m the table, and we lay
270
THE HOLT LAHD.
down to rest, to spend our first night of " tent life " in our tour
of northern Palestine.
A VISIT TO SHILOH.
April IQth. On rising this morning, we found, what wo
could not see as we came in last evening, that our camp was
on a high hill overlooking one of the most beautiful valleys we
had yet seen, while near by us was quite a large Arab village.
We have many places of interest to visit to-day—Old Shiloh,
Jacob's Well, Shechem, Ebal and Gerizim are all in the pro¬
gramme, and we must lose no time. To reach Shiloh, now
called Seilun, we had to make a detour of about one-half
hour from our main road, and we hired an extra guide from the
village to conduct us to the spot. At one period the site of
Shiloh seems to have been overlooked, and almost forgotten,
and many had come to the conclusion that Neby Samuel was
the place where the ark was kept, and where the tribes were
accustomed to assemble. The researches of modern travelers,
and the accuracy with which the location is pointed out in
scripture, has identified the spot, I believe, to the satisfaction of
almost every one. , The Bible says it is " on the north side of
Bethel, on the east of the highway that goeth up fhom Bethel
to Shechem, and on the south of Lebonah." We found the
place an utter desolation—nothing to indicate that it bad once
been the center of worship, and the great rallying place of the
tribes of Israel. A valley, perhaps a quarter of a mile broad,
with sloping sides, forms the main feature. Projecting from
the ridge, on one side of this, is a round-topped hillock, present¬
ing from one point of view the appearance of a small hill
standing in the center of the valley. On this great natural
mound was no doubt the sanctuary of God. As soon as the
conquest of the land was so far completed as to allow it to be
done in safety, the Tabernacle of God, with the sacred ark,
and all its holy furniture, was removed from Gilgal to this
place, and here it stood during all the time of the Judges to
the days of Eli. Upon this site there is nothing standing but
the ruins of an old stone building, probably first erected for a
Christian church, and subsequently converted into a mosque.
VISIT TO OLD SHILOH.
271
Now the roof has disappeared, and the walls have fallen into
heaps. A Moslem tomb, marking the resting place of some
modern sheik, has been erected within the ruins, and this is all
that preserves it from complete demolition. The tall, rank
grass was waving among the stones, and the ground had been
plowed up to the very foundation walls, and a crop of barley
was rapidly approaching the harvest.
HOSTILITY OF THE ARABS.
"We led our horses through the standing grain, and placing
them in charge of the servants, were soon wandering about the
ruins. "We had been upon the ground but a few minutes when
several of the native Arabs made their appearance, and one of
them, with an old broad-sword dangling from his belt and a
long gun in his hand, running up to us in hostile attitude, and
apparently in great rage, ordered us off the ground. One of
our company, more belligerent than the rest, drew his revolver,
and gave the infuriated son of Ishinael to understand that he
was ready to meet him on his own terms. This only seemed
to increase his rage, and he raved like a madman, while, as if by
magic, though it was an out of the way place, near a dozen
evil-looking, swarthy-faced fellows suddenly appeared about
the place. I was standing near the tomb of the sheik, where I
had been gathering some flowers, as the man, gun in hand, ap¬
proached me, motioning me ofi'. It is said, love in the heart
makes rainbows in the eyes; and now I felt that the converse
of this was true, for malignity in the heart had filled his eyes
with dáncing demons, and I could see them spitting fire from
beneath his long, dark lashes. I was unarmed, but did not
care, for I knew of a charm that would exorcise the demoniacs
quicker and more effectually than brimstone and blue pill. I
8ent a searching but pleasant glance deep into his flashing eyes,
motioned—for I could not speak to him in Arabic—that I only
'wanted to gather a few flowers, and drawing a quarter of a dol¬
lar from my pocket, slipped it into his hand. 0 potent power,
to bind the infuriated passions! There is a music in the sil¬
ver's clink that softens and calms even the heart of the un¬
tamed savage. His manner towards me changed in an instant,
272
THE HOLY LAND.
i
and while he went on bullying the rest, he would occasionally
turn and give me a complacent. look, as much as to say, " Ott
where you please and take what you want." Our dragoman
interposed to preserve order between the natives and the more
rudely disposed of our party, and at last succeeded in prevent¬
ing a quarrel. There is no doubt but these natives are a law¬
less, plundering set, but we had intruded upon their grounds,
led our horses through their standing grain, and though the
crop was a light one, and but little injured by the intrusion,
still they had a just claim upon us, and a few pence from each
one, instead of meeting them by force, would have set the
matter all right. A party who followed us the same day got
into an open rupture with them, and only succeeded, with great
difficulty, in making their escape from them after blows had
been exchanged on both sides. But do not let these uncivil,
churlish Arabs divert us from the great object of our visit here.
THE TABERNACLE AT SHILOH.
This place was for more than three hundred years the center
of worship for the tribes of Israel, and here, during all the long
period of the Judges, they held their great annual festivals. It
is no common ground on which we stand. This hill-top and
this broad valley have been the theater of many an interesting
event. That wonderful Tabernacle, and that holy Ark, that
were built at the base of Sinai, and carried with such devout
reverence through the wilderness, were here permanently locatéd
in the very heart of the country. It was at this place the
tribes assembled together, when the land under Joshua was di¬
vided among them. Ilere Hannah of old brought her little son,
Samuel, and dedicated him to the service of God. "For this
child," said the pious mother, " I prayed, and the Lord hath
given me my petition. Therefore, also I have tent him to the
Lord as long as he liveth." Here that child of prayer grew up
amid the scenes of the sanctuary, to honor his parents and*
bless his countrj. Here, for a long time, Eli was high priest.
But though a well-disposed and amiable man, he appears to
have been negligent and inefficient in the discharge of many
of his duties. His two sons grew up in iniquity, unrestrained
INCIDENTS AT SHILOH.
27S
hy parental authority, and the Lord signally rebuked his neg¬
lect. The armies of Israel werç smitten by the Philistines, and
they said : " It is because we have not the Ark of God with
us." Tbey sent to Shiloh, and contrary to all precedent, took
the Ark of God from its place in the Tabernacle, placed it at
the head of their army, and again went out to meet their enc-
01 y. But Israel had sinned, and God was not with them. In
rain do we have the symbols of his presence if the spirit is not
with us. And now by the gate of this city, Eli, still anxious
for the honor of Israel and the safety of the ark, sát waiting
for tidings from the battle-fields A runner approaches, and
cautiously announces the result : " Israel is smitten before the
Philistines." Heavy news for the man of God. "There
has been a great slaughter, and thirty thousand of our men
have perished." Worse and worse. "Thy two sons, Hophni
and Phineas, are slain." Alas, those wicked sons ; what a blow
to an aged parent's heart ; but still the old man could bear up
under it. " And the Ark of God is taken captive." This was
the heaviest blow of all, for he loved the ark before which he
had so often sprinkled the blood of atonement. "When he
heard this he fell from his seat; his neck was broken, and life
was extinct. So vividly, as I stood on this ground, was this
tragic scene before me, I almost involuntarily looked about me,
wondering if the place where this old servant of God expired
could not still be found. That Ark never returned to Shiloh ;
Esrael ceased to .gather here, and the place was eventually for¬
saken.
As I looked down upon the valley, I was struck with the ap-
. propriateness of the place for the assembling of a large con¬
course of people. In that beautiful valley, and along those
sloping hill-sides, thousands upon thousands could have been
congregated, and all have been in the immediate vicinity and
within sight of the Tabernacle of God. This valley, during
the days of the Judges, was made the scene of a singular ad¬
venture by the renftnant of the Benjaminites, who escaped from
the frightful massacre with which their brethren had been vis
ited by the other tribes for the horrid crime perpetrated at
Gibeah. Their women had all been si ai n^ and the other tribes
27t
THE HOLT LAND.
liad all bouüd themselves by oath they would not give them
their daughters for wives. Knowing the maidens of Shiloh
held an annual festival in honor of the ark, by the connivance
of the elders of Israel, two hundred of these young Benjamin-
ites hid themselves in the vineyards upon these hill-sides, and
while the daughters of Shiloh were engaged in their open-air
festivities, they suddenly sprang upon them from their hiding
places, and each man seized upon a damsel, and bore her away
as his future wife.
Leaving Shiloh, we soon reached the main road, a troop of
the impudent natives following us nearly a mile; sometimes
holding on to our bridle-reins, clamoring for backsheesh. A
one-eyed, ruffianly-looking fellow had my horse by the head fall
fifteen minutes, until tired of his importunities, I gave him a
piaster, when the insolent vagabond left me.
We had been riding among the steep declivities and rocky
passes of Benjamin ; we were now emerging into the more fer¬
tile vales of Ephraim. The hills became more sloping, the val •
leys broader and more fertile. A succession of hills and vales
were passed. At last we wound our weary way up a high
ridge of land, and upon reaching the summit, what a view
greeted our eyes ! Before us, stretched away for many miles,
a beautiful valley, teeming with luxuriant crops ; to the left of
it peered up the round-top of Gerizim, and just heyond it the
more sullen-looking brow of Ebal, while far in the distance, old
Hermon lifted his hoary peaks into the clouds, covered with
huge banks of snow glistening in the sunlight. From this in¬
teresting hight we rapidly descended, wound around the base
of Gerizim, having the beautiful "Valley of Cornfields" upon
our right, passed Jacob's "Well, which we will not stop to exam¬
ine now, as we shall return to it again when we have more leis¬
ure, and about 4 o'clock pitched our tents under some old olivo
trees by the walls of
NABULOUS, OR OLD 8HE0HEM.
This city has an old an'd interesting history, reaching hack
four thousand years. In the striking and impressive events
connected with it, i^ holds a place next to Jerusalem and the
ABRAHAM'S ALTAR.
275
main of the Jordan. It is the Shechem of the Ohl Testament,,
the Sychar of the New. In the Roman conquest it seems to
have been completely destroyed, but was re-built by Vespasian,
and called Neapolis, New City, which in Arabic is now called
ííabulous, usually pronounced Nab-loos. Dr. Barclay, by pre¬
vious arrangement, again met us here, having came from Jaifa ^
for that purpose. "We are to spend one day and two nights
here, and shall have full time to visit all the interesting locali¬
ties of the place. Our visit completed here, a part of the com¬
pany are to go with the Doctor to explore the ruins of old
Caesarea upon the sea-coast, with a view of ascertaining the
feasibility of establishing a settlement there, while the other
part of our company will proceed to Beirut, by the way of
Mount Carmel. To-night we will look at the history of the
place ; to-morrow we will make an excursion about the city and
mountains.
The first account we have of this spot is in connection with
Abraham's entrance into the land. At the age of seventy-five
years, in obedience to the call of God, he left XJr first, then
Haran, crossed the Jordan, and passed through the land " into
the place of Sichern," the Canaanite being then in the land.
Wherever this patriarch went he took his religion with him.
Here, though among an idolatrous people, he built an altar
unto the Lord, and here God promised him an inheritance in
the land. Here, then, we have pitched our tent, where A.bra-
ham sojourned, and upon the very ground where stood the
first altar that Canaan saw consecrated to Jehovah God!
Jacob, after his sojourn in Messopotamia, returned with his
numerous family, his flocks and herds, and following in the
steps of his grandfather Abraham, came to Salem, a city of
Shechem, there pitched his tents, and bought from Hamor, the
father of Shechem, the piece of ground of which we shall have
occasion to speak hereafter. As if to perpetuate the remem¬
brance of this visit of Jacob, on the slope of one of the hills
opposite this valley, and not more than two miles distant, is a
little village, now called Salim. Here, too, in imitation of his
great progenitor, he built an altar, and called it El-Elohe-Isra-
el, God the God of Israel. But this place was not only early
276
THE HOLT LAND.
honored with the altars of God, here the earth was stained
with the blood of revenge ; for it was here Simeon and Levi, for
the wrong done their sister, treacherously brought the men of
the city into their power, and slew all the males, including
Hamor and Shechem his father, with the edge of the sword.
Gen. xxxiv. Other events we shall have occasion to describe
as we take our walks about the place.
THE SAMARITANS.
We have brought letters of introduction from Dr. Levishon
and Prof. Krauss of Jerusalem to Mr. Shellabar, (I am not
sure I have the name right, I spell it as pronounced,) a leading
man among the Samaritans ; and as we have time this evening
to go into the city, we will improve the opportunity and make
arrangements for our excursion to-morrow. We found Mr.
Shellabar a kind-hearted, intelligent man, and able to converse
fluently in English, and as he was brought up in this city, and
is well posted in all matters pertaining to the place, we consid¬
ered ourselves peculiarly fortunate in making his ^.cquaintance.
With two such persons with us as Mr. 8. and Dr. B., we shall
be able to spend our time here to the best advantage. There is
a remnant of the old Samaritan stock still existing here, main¬
taining the faith and forms of worship handed down from gen¬
eration to generation, as they believe, from the very time of
Moses. Among these Mr. S. was born and bred. They believe
as firmly as in the days of the Savior that in this mountain—
Gerizim—^men ought to worehip, and there only will they oflPer
their sacrifices. They .have a priest, who, they claim, is a line¬
al descendant of Aaron, and they assert that the priesthood
has continued in an unbroken succession among them. Their
present priest is quite aged, and the only person in the priestly
line that can succeed him is a nephew, now about twenty years
old. Their scriptures are the five books of Moses only. Of
these they have, as they claim, very ancient copies, of which
we have spoken in connection with Dr. Levishon's labors at
Jerusalem, and of which we shall speak again, as we expect to
see the old copy, written, they say, by the great grandson of
AaroE Thej adhere strictly to the Mosaic law, prohibiting
SAMARIA AND MOUNT QEKIZIM.
THE SAMAKITANS.
279
»ny alliance with other sects, and never marrying out of the
pale of their own society. The consequence is, they are con
stantly diminishing, and are now reduced, all told, to about one
hundred and thirty. Mr. S. informed us that they had sev¬
eral young men, who were living single, because they had no wives
for them! They live by themselves, despised, and often illy
treated by their Mohammedan rulers. A fine stone structure
in the city, about one thousand years old, was formerly their
synagogue, but it was wrested from them by their oppressors
and turned into a mosque, and they compelled to worship in a
more obscure and humble place. I was much interested in this
remnant of an ancient race, and these representatives of an an¬
cient religion, for I was not aware, until I mingled with them
^ here, that they had kept themselves so completely separated
from all foïeign alliances. "We shall learn more of them to¬
morrow.
ASCENT or OEBIZIM.
April Vlth. Before we commence our walk this morning, let
ns endeavor to have a definite idea of the localities of the
places we are to visit. Eeferring to the picture of Gerizim and
Ebal, standing in the foreground, just where you see the small
figures of men and horses, you are upon the beautiful "Plain
of Cornfields," along the left side of which we came as we ap¬
proached the city. The round-topped mountain upon the left
is Gerizim, the Mount of Blessings the bolder and rougher
looking one upon the right is Ebal, the Mount of Cursing."
J ust at the opening of the narrow valley that separates them is
Jacob's "Well, and a short distance from it, partly towards Ebal,
is Joseph's Tomb ; while from a half to three-fourths of a mile
up the valley is Shechem, or Nabulous. The valley between
these mountains is a beautiful one—a fine stream of water
flashing along its pebbly bed, fields of corn, large olive trees,
and orchards of various kinds of fruits, while the town, with
its gray walls and numerous domes, lies nestling under the base
of Gerizim, almost concealed by the tangled growth of trefes
and shrubbery that surrounds it.
"We left the city and took a circuitous path to reach the sum
41
280
THE HOLY LAND.
mit of Gerizim by as gentle an ascent as possible- At tbe
bight of about two hundred feet we came upon a conspicuous
fountain of water, sending a large, refreshing stream down to¬
wards the city, which seemed now to lie almost directly be¬
neath our feet. Standing thus and looking down upon the
domes and minarets of the city, one can readily understand
how it was that Jotham could stand here, and make his taunt¬
ing speech of the parable of the trees and the bramble, in the
presence of all the city, (Judges ix.,) and then make his escape
before the men of the city could reach him.
The mountain rises about eight hundred feet above the plain.
The soil is rich and capable of cultivatfbn to the very top. As
we came near the summit Mr. S. pointed out to us a small spot
of ground inclosed by a low, rude stone walL This, he in-^
formed us, belonged to the Samaritans, having been purchased
by his grandfather for their exclusive use. Here they come up
three times a year to worship the God of their fathers. The
anniversary of the Passover is their great annual festival. On
this occasion, all that are able to leave their homes, men, wo¬
men and children, make a pilgrimage up the mount, taking
tents with them, prepared to spend a night upon the summit.
On this piece of ground they encamp, and make preparations
for the solemn feast. Calling our attention to a hollow spot in
the ground"Here," he says, "is where the paschal lambs
are slain. Seven men, each with a lamb, arrange themselves in
a circlç around these stones ; the priest stands upon that little
eminence yonder and watches the setting sun. The seven men
have their victims bound, and knives raised ready to let fall the
blow. The moment the sun disappears below the horizon, the
word is given ; the knives fall, and the quivering victims are
writhing in the agonies of ,death." Then pointing to anothei
similar place, "Here," he says, "is the place where the flesh is
roasted in the flre ; and here is where the bones, and what re¬
mains after the feast is over, are burned." These last two places
had the remnants of the fires that had been kindled stiU re¬
maining, and on raking open the ashes of the latter place, I
found the remains of some of thé bones of the last sacrifice,
partially charred, which T brought away with me.
ASCENT OP GEEIZIlá.
281
From tliio place we had but a few rods to go^ and we stood
oil the site of their ancient temple. A large portion of'the
rock has been graded down, and is as level as a house floor, but
every vestige of the walls has disappeared. This spot is to
the Samaritan what Mount Moriah and the site of Solomon's
Temple is to the Jew. It is holy ground, and he takes ofl" his
ihoes when he steps u^on it. They claim that here is the place
that Melchisedek met Abraham, and that on this mount
Abraham ofiered Isaac ; and here our guide pointed out to us
twelve stones, which they believe to be the veritable ones
taken by command of Joshua from the bed of the Jordan,
when the waters were divided before the Ark of God! and
here they believe the ark was brought and the tabernacle
set up.
After the return from the Babylonish captivity, a mongrel
race of Jews and Gentiles inhabited this portion of the country.
They adopted the Pentateuch, and the leading features of the
Jewisn faith, but the Jews rejected them, and shut them from
the Temple at Jerusalem. This led to the erection of a Tem¬
ple on Gerizim, and to the claim set up by them that it was
the true place of worship ; hence the long and obstinate reli¬
gious feud that is perpetuated even to this day. This Samari¬
tan Temple upon Gerizim was probably built about four hun¬
dred and twenty years B. C.; when it was finally destroyed, it
'.s difficult now to tell. Upon the top of the mount are the ruins
of an immense structure, reaching about four hundred feet in one
direction and two hundred in another. It is a massive piece of
work, built of hewn stone, and among the ruins are several deep
wells and cisterns. Some suppose it to be the ruins of the old
Samaritan Temple. The Samaritans, however, do not claim it
as such, and most writers suppose it to be the remains of an old
Roman fortress built by Justinian. The view from the top of
.his mountain is one of the finest and most extensive in all
Palestine. Upon tue west are the waters of the Mediterranean,
with a jtortion of the Plain of Sharon and Jaffa ^yîng upon the
Bcashoie; on the east-you look down into the valley of the
.lordan; while far oeyond it, the view is bounded by the great
mountain chain stretching far away from north to south, and
282
THE HOLT LAND.
rising peak over peak ; to the north, old Hermon lifts his tow¬
ering form high into the heavens, his snow-capped peaks
wrapped in clouds of mist; while all around you are the moun¬
tains of Ephraim, the foriner home and great stronghold of
this powerful branch of the house of Joseph. "The rich plains
and valleys are seen winding like a green net-work among
them, waving with corn, and fat with the olive and the vine."
the piiace 01* blessing and cursing.
We now descended part way down the mountain-side toward
Ebal, to get a view of the probable place of the assembling of
the tribes under Joshua, to pronounce the blessings and the
curses upon Israel. In the narrowest portion of the valley
there was a kind of projection or spur upon the side of Gerizim,
and as we looked across there seemed to be a corresponding
one upon the side of Ebal. The valley here is not more than
sixty rods broad; Here, we almost involuntarily said, must be
the place of that august and solemn assemblage ! This meeting
was appointed by Moses beforê his death, and particular direc¬
tions given how it should be conducted. Here, after the con-
ques| of the land, Joshua assembled the tribes ; six of them
were placed on this side, and six on yonder Ebal—these to
bless, those to curse—the vast multitudes, no doubt, covering
the mountain-sides and filling the plain below. Here we sat
down, took out our bibles, and read aloud the blessings and the
curses as they were pronounced on that solemn occasion. Deut.
xxvii. xxviii. The ark of the covenant was here, the elders,
and officers, and judges ranged round it—^the whole nation of
Israel were here, with their women and little ones. " This was,"
says Thompson, "beyond question or comparison, the most
august assembly the sun has ever shone upon; and I never
stand in the narrow plain, with Ebal and Gerizim rising on
either hand to the sky, without involuntarily recalling and re¬
producing the scene. I have shouted to near the echo, and
then fancied how it must have been when the loud-voiced Le
vites proclaimed from the naked cliffs«of Ebal, 'Cursed be the
man that maketh any graven image, an abomination unto Je-
novah.' And the tremendous Amen ! tenfold louder, from the
A N OLD WEL L.
283
mighty congregation, rising, and swelling, and re-ecnoing from
Ebal to Gerizim, and from Gerizim to Ebal. AMEN ! Even
BO let him be accursed. No, there never was an assembly to
compare with this." Here, also, Joshua set up pillars of
stone, with the words of the law engraven on them. From
this point we made a direct and rapid descent toward
JACOB'S WELL.
Jacob's "Well! "What traveler through Palestine fails to visit
it? "What jodrnalist does not describe it? It is one of the
ancient landmarks ; many a historic association clusters around
it. Here patriarchs watered their flocks; here Jesus rested
and refreshed himself, and the modem traveler sits down by it,
looks inquiringly into its deep, dark depths, or lets down his cup
and line for a draught of its waters. It is situated just at the
opening of the valley, between Ebal and Gerizim ; is nine feet
in diameter, and about ninety feet deep—an excavation into the
solid limestone rock. The sides are hewn smooth and regular.
It must have been constructed at an enormous outlay of time
and labor. An excavation about flfteen feet square, and eight
or ten deep, has been made about the mouth, walled up and
arched over, making a subterranean vault or chamber over the
mouth of the well. The roof of this vault has now fallen in,
and the loose stones and dirt have accummulated about the
mouth below, and the natives have rolled a large stone over
the opening, to prevent the loose material from falling into
the well. This gave the well formerly two mouths or open¬
ings, one in the roof of the arched vault, one opening from
the floor of the vault beneath. It is this circumstance, I pre¬
sume, that has given rise to the discrepancies in the reports of
diflerent travelers, as to the depth of the well, some measuring
from the lower mouth, some from the opening in the vault
above. From the lower mouth it is seventy-flve feet deep. ^
We let down a line, with a cup attached, and drew up son>e
of the water, which each of our company tasted. The well
has no living spring oÄbuntain, probably never had. Mr. S.
informed us that the depth of water varied according to the
season of the year ; during the rainy season it accummulates
284
THE HOLT LAHD.
to the depth of fifteen to twenty feet, and in time of drought
sometimes entirely disappears. It may be this circumstance
of the failure of the water, that gave an intensity of meaning
to the words of the Savior as he talked with the woman : " If
thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that said to thee,
give me to drink, thou wouldst have asked of him, and *he
would have ^ven the living water." John iv. 10. A portion
of ground about the well has formerly been inclosed by a
stone wall, but it is now in a sadly dilapidated condition.
Near by the well are the ruins of an old stone church, built in
the times of the Crusaders. Among the ruins I noticed two or
three finely wrought granite columns. This renowned parcel
of ground, bought by Jacob of the children of Hamor, near
eighteen hundred years before Christ, for one hundred pieces
of money, has recently been sold again, Mr. S. informing us
that he assisted in the negotiation. It has been bought by
the Greeks, who paid for it one hundred thousand piasters.
They have already commenced improving the grounds, and
are inclosing about one-fourth of an acre with a heavy stone
wall, with a view, I presume, to reconstructing the old church,
and perhaps adding a convent, so that it will not be long
before from the spot on which Jacob built his altar, where
Samaritans and Mohammedans have worshiped, the songs of
Christian praise will again be heard.
This well was to me one of the deeply interesting places of
the Holy Land. Here we were, upon the great road along
which Jesus "must needs" travel in his journey from Jerusa¬
lem to Galilee. To this well he came, and weary with his
journey, on its open mouth he sat. To yonder city his dis¬
ciples went to buy meat, and here alone, during the burning
heat of the day, he reposed. Two thousand years have not
changed the scenery, while the customs of the inhabitants, in
many particulars, remain the same. Sitting here upon this
well, you may still see the women passing and repassing, with
their water-pots upon their heads, just as in those ancient
times. There, right before us, rises life mountain summit of
Gerizim ; here are the Sainaritans, just as tenaciously contend¬
ing with the Jews about the place of worship, as they did
JACOB'S WELL.
285
«rhen the woman, standing on this spot, referred the great
question to Jesus : " Our fathers worshiped in this mountain
[G-erizim], and ye say that in Jerusalem is the place where men
ought to worship." I could not but feel that this well, these
raountians, and that city, were so many monuments, planted
arid perpetuated by the wisdom and power of God, upon
which he has inscribed the evidences of his own truth. Here
men come, and sit and read the instructive lessons of Divine
revelation, and all the surroundings bring vividly to mind and
witness to the truth of the story of Jesus ! Here it was Joshua
was commanded to set up pillars of stone, and inscribe the
law of God upon them, that Israel might know his command¬
ments. Here, too, a greater than Israel's leader. Our own
Joshua, has left his memorial records, designed to keep fresh
in our minds the remembrance of the great fountain from
which we must draw the water of life.
joseph's tomb.
From his home in Hebron, Joseph, then a mere lad, came to
this field, seeking his brethren as they led their fiocks among
the rich pastures of this valley. A man found him wandering
about here and sent him to Dothan, whither his brethren had
gone. "What befell him there, at the hands of his envious
brothers, all well know. Had that lad Joseph, as he wandered
about these grounds, had power to look by prophetic ken
down the long vista of the future, what strange scenes of
history would have passed before his vision !
Nearly one hundred years passed away. In a distant land,
in a princely palace, surrounded by the wealth and splendor
of an eastern court, as prime minister of one of the most
powerful nations of earth, he lay upon his dying bed. His
children and kindred gathered around him to close his eyes in
death. "God," said he to his people, "will assuredly visit
you and bring you out of this land unto the land which he
Bware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob." There and then
he exacted of them an oath, that they would carry up his
bones with them when they went out of Egypt. Long years
passed away, strange events transpired, and his descendants,
280
THE HOLY LAND.
led by the wisdom and power of God, reared up their altars
in this valley. " And the hones of Joseph, which the children
of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in Shechem, in
a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamoi
the father of Shechem, for an hundred pieces of silver."
Josh. xxiv. 32.
Leaving the well, we passed a short distance across the plain
toward the base of Ehal, when we entered a little square area,
inclosed by a high stone wall, neatly whitewashed. Across
one end of this little inclosure is a Moslem tomb, surmounted
by a dome—the Tomb of Joseph. Samaritan and Jew, Moslem
and Christian, alike revere it, and honor it with their visits.
We paused a few moments in the interior, musing upon the
strange vicissitudes in the life of him whose dust was here
moidering under the shadow of Ehal and Gerizim. The
Tomb of Joseph !—^the dutiful son—the affectionate, forgiving
brother—the virtuous man—the wise prince and ruler ! Egypt
felt his influence; the world knows his history. Thirty-five
hundred years have not effaced the memory of his integrity
and wisdom ; his holy, useful life instructs us, travelers from
all climes come and meditate in the shadow of his monument,
and his tomb preaches to us! I plucked a few leaves and
flowers from the shrubs and vines that ornament the interior
of the inclosure, and with my companions turned away toward
the city.
THE OIiD MAHUSOBIFT.
We have before spoken of the old manuscript of the Samar¬
itan Pentateuch, procured from this people by Dr. Levishon
and Prof. Krause of Jerusalem. They have one in their syna¬
gogue here, for which they claim an antiquity quite astound¬
ing. Nothing but a liberal backsheesh can overcome the
strong reluctance of the priest to exhibit to infidel eyes this
remarkable document. The letter we had brought from Jeru¬
salem paved the way, and a gold sovereign overcame all
scruples. Divested of our shoes, we entered their little syna¬
gogue sanctuary, and stood before their altar. A richly
wrought curtain concealed a recess, from which the young
priest brought out the remarkable document and set it upon
SAMARITAN PENTATEUCH. 287
the table before us—the five books of Moses, written upon
beautiful parchnient, in the ancient Samaritan character,
(these Samaritans say the character used by Moses,) done up in
the form of a scroll, now kept in an elegant silver case, rolled
in an antique looking cloth of blue, purple and scarlet, inter¬
woven with threads of gold. As it is of comparatively recent ^
date that these manuscripts have been known to the world,
and exhibited to travelers, there has as yet been but little
opportunity of testing their claim to antiquity. If the one
now in possession of Dr. L., at Jerusalem, was written, as he
believes, while the first temple was standing, it is nothing un¬
reasonable to suppose that this may have been written while as
yet the Hebrews worshiped in the old Tabernacle. Such
antiquity at any rate they claim for it. The transcriber's im¬
print is wrought in one portion of the scroll into the text in the
form of'an acrostic, and reads : "Written by Abishua, son of
Phineas, son of Elbazab, son of Aaron!" Did I then look
upon a copy of the Pentateuch, transcribed by a great grand¬
son of the first Hebrew High Priest ! The stones set up by
Joshua, inscribed with the law, perished under the wasting
influence of time and the deva8ta;tions of war, and are known
no more. Did God hide away these copies written on parch¬
ment, and has he kept them secreted from the world for more
than three thousand years, that in the fullness of time they may
be brought from their obscurity and testify to the antiquity, of his
revelation ? It may be so. Some sincerely believe it. Dr.
Levishon's fac-simile of the one in his possession will soon bo
before the world, and scholars will have an opportunity of in¬
vestigating its claims.
Two or three hours of the evening were spent looking about
the city, climbing about the rugged sides of Ebal, and recall¬
ing the prominent incidents that have here transpired. We
wondered where that oak stood under which Jacob buried the
ear-rings, and strange gods that had perverted the worship of
his family ! We recalled that solemn assembly, when Joshua
gathered all Israel at this place, and gave them his earnest
dving advice. We thought on the strange anomalies existing
here, as seen in the oldest and yet the smallest religious sec^
288
1 â ¿. iOLY LAND.
in the world, and how in this vale, and on these hills, çrorshi}.
has been perpetuated, almost without change, from the days of
Abraham.
THE IiEFEBS OF SHEOHEM.
April 18. This city is one of the principal resorts of thv
lepers that still infest the land, and among whom that awfui
disease—a type of sin in the moral constitution of man—^iu
still perpetuated. Our tent was pitched under the shadow of
some venerable old olive trees, that must have séen the changen
of many hundreds of years. There is something interesting
in the olive ; a thousand scriptural associations are connected
with it. The morning was pleasant, and leaving our tent, our
breakfast table was spread in the open air, under the overhang-
iag boughs of one of these old trees. A large number of the
lounging villagers, men, women and children, gathered around
us. Among the rest came a company of disgusting looking
lepers, and seated themselves upon the ground, in a sort of
semi-circle, only a few feet from our table. Much as I com¬
miserated their sad condition, I could not endure the sight of
them so near me, especially at meal time, and I asked the
dragoman to send them away. This he did with considerable
rudeness, when, retiring to a more respectful distance, they
again seated themselves in the same manner. Breakfast over,
knowing they had come to beg, and feeling a sympathy for
them, I counted, and saw fourteen sitting in the company, side
by side. A lad from the city was there with a basket full of
barley loaves for sale. I bargained with him for a quantity,
and taking a loaf for each, went up to them, and commenced
the distribution. They immediately rose and clustered close
about me, eager to snatch the proffered gift, and before I had
finished the distribution, their number, as if by magic, seemed
to be doubled, and each, as he got his loaf, hid it under his
loose garment, and stretched out his hand for more. I saw at
once I had a larger contract than I had bargained for, and
thai when 1 undertook to feed the hungry, it was the people
that were multiplied, and not the loaves ; so I made a hasty
retreat from the unpleasant crowd.
CXJ> OLIVE TREEa
^ ^ %A,t9 ^^api^'¡íí^'*>,^'/i)h ^
^ Síí¥á7^^i:ín¡tí^áih-7*^9 '/¿y ¿z iy
• ^ 'y;? *iíj'%m
to ^'j^/a 'is
^ A <î7«J ej^^-S
/f- M/fío^
^ ''^-4'>Î"^'5fiî7'ÂiOÇ^-i.iJr'y»«i^^/^
SAMARITAN MANUSCRIPT.—See p»ge 286.
TOMB OF ST. JOHN.
CHAPTER X.
From Gerkim and Shechbm to Nazareth—Old Samaria —
Jezrebl—Mount Tabor—Sea op Galilee.
April 18<A. Leaving Shechem, our road, for nearly an hour,
lay through the beautiful Valley of NabulouB^ A fine stream
of water goes dashing along its pebbly bed, a rare and cheerful
sight in this now thirsty land. Not far from the city we passed
the remains of an old aqueduct, probably Roman ; several fine
stone arches still standing. "We also passed a mill for grinding
corn^ the first one I have seen in this country turned by water.
A ride of two and a half hours, over a road far better than any
we had before traveled, brought us to Samaria, once the capital
of this portion of the country, now called Sebaste or Sebustieh,
As we traveled northward the fertility of the land seemed con¬
stantly increasing. The inhabitants were a stout, robust-look¬
ing race, all armed, even when about their homes and most or¬
dinary business. Each man usually carried a fiint-lock gun, an
old, antique-looking broad sword stuck in his belt, and some¬
times pistols. As we approached Samaria, there was a beauti¬
ful diversity of hill and dale; the sloping hill-sides crowned
with verdure to the very summits.
At half-past 9 o'clock we reached Samaria, the ancient capi¬
tal of^ this portion of the country, now called Sebaste. It is a
miserable Arab village of about sixty houses, and is all that now
remains to mark the spot where a large city once stood, and
royalty held court in the midst of beautiful palaces and exten¬
sive colonnades. Of the modern village, the chief attraction to
the traveler is an old pile of ruins, dating back to the days of
the Crusaders, known as the Church and Tomb of St. John.
It stands upon the hill-side, a little east of the village, and
292
THE HOLÍ LAND.
the only portion of it in a sufficient state of repair to be used
is now Qccupied by the Moslem inhabitants as a mosque. Be¬
neath the ruins of this old church, in a little chamber deeply
cut in the rock, is the reputed tomb of John the Baptist, called
by the Arabs !N'eby Yahya. It was this tomb we desired most
to visit ; and apprised beforehand of the rude character of the
inhabitants. Dr. Barclay, who was still with us, had procured
a firman from the governor of liabulous, whose jurisdiction
extends to this place also, ordering the authorities to allow us
to enter. To enforce the firman, he sent with us two armed
soldiers from the standing guard kept at the former city. Some
of our company had gone on in advance, and apprised of our
approach, a rude rabble of citizens gathered around the church.
The keeper of the place demanded an exorbitant backsheesh
as a condition of opening the door. This we refused to pay,
Knowing it was a lawless act in them to attempt to obstruct the
order of the governor of ISTabulous. The soldiers coming up.
Dr. B. appealed to them to enforce the order, and open the
doors for us. By this time a fierce-looking set had gathered
around, armed with guns and cutlasses, evidently bent on mis¬
chief. They set us, soldiers, firman and all, at defiance, and de¬
manded the backsheesh as the only terms of admittance. The
soldiers, seeing the state of things, refused to enforce the order;
and after looking about the ruins, we left, much to iheir disap¬
pointment, for they had evidently calculated we would pay the
backsheesh, or fight our way through; but we thought best
neither to encourage their insolent demands, nor get into a
quarrel with them. For one, however, I confess I was consid¬
erably disappointed ; I did want to stand by the tomb, and look
upon the spot where moldered the remains of the man who
preached in the wilderness of Judea, baptized Jesus in the Jor
dan, who dared to rebuke a wicked king, and whose head alone
could fippease the wrath of an offended paramour.
THE ANCIENT OITT.
"We rode over the hill to get a view of the location of the
ancient city, and some of the ruins that still remain. The ori¬
gin of it is readily told: "In the thirty and first year of Asa,
s AM AjíIA.
203
fTing of Judah, began Ornri to reign over Israel twelve ^ears:
BIX years reigned he in Tirzah. And he bought the hill of Sa¬
maria of Shemer for two talents of silver, and built on the hill,
and called the name of the city which he built after the name
of Shemer, owner of the hill, Samaria." 1 Kings, xvi. 23, 24.
The site was certainly a most appropriate and picturesque one
Here is a beautiful valley about five miles in circumference,
surrounded by lofty hills covered with vegetation. In the very
center of this valley is a flatish, oval hill, upon which the an¬
cient town was built—a hill within an amphitheatre of hills, sur¬
rounded on every side by a beautiful valley. "Ho better site,"
says one, " could have been selected for a capital, in all the
length and breadth of Palestine—a strong position, rich envi¬
rons, a central situation, and an elevation sufficient to catch,
untainted, the cool, healthy breezes from the sea."
As we rode around the brow of the hill we passed along the
rums of an ancient colonnade, probably belonging to the days
of Herod. There were two rows of columns, about fifty feet
apart. These columns were sixteen feet high, and about two
feet in diameter; some of them are still standing, and the whole
highth can be seen above ground ; some of them are broken
off near the ground, and some can be seen lying about, scat¬
tered among the ruined terraces. This remarkable colonnade
extended about three thousand feet, and in one part of it some
sixty of the columns can yet be seen standing.' Having passed
along this ancient pathway, marked by majestic columns, we
left our horses, climbed over the stone walls, along the terraqes,
and through cultivated fields of grain and olive groves, to the
top of the hill. Here we found in one place an open area, once
Burroupded with columns, fifteen of which are still standing.
On the northeast side of the hill is another remarkable cluster
of these columns. They are arranged in the form of a quad¬
rangle, and the space inclosed, one hundred and ninety-six
paces long, has been leveled by the hand of art. Fifteen whole
îolumns are still standing, and the original number to complete
the inclosure must have been one hundred and seventy. These,
as well as other ruins, attest the former greatness and magnifi-
eeiK'C of the city. Around this hill and in the immediate vi-
294
THE HOLY LAND.
cinity of this ancient city have transpired some of the interest¬
ing scenes of biblical history. Omri died, and was succeeded
by Ahab, who married the notorious Jezebel, daughter of the
King of Sidon. Instigated by his idolatrous wife, he built here
a magnificent temple dedicated to Baal, planted a grove, and
ran into the wildest excesses of heathen abominations, so much
BO, it is said, he "did more to provoke the Lord God of Israel
to anger than all the kings of Israel that were before him."
Here was the scene of some of the striking events in the lives
of Elijah and Elisha. The King of Syria was at war with Is¬
rael, and he was astonished and perplexed to find that the King
of Israel was acquainted with all his movements. Suspecting
he had a traitor in his camp, he called a council and made the
inquiry: "Who among us is for the King of Israel?" One
of his servants said: "Kone, my Lord, 0 King; but Elisha the
Prophet that is in Israel telleth the King of Israel the words
that thou speakest in thy bed-chamber." Then he sent horses
and chariots and a great host to take that prophet of the Lord,
and bring him to the Syrian camp. And they came to Dothan
where Elisha was, and encompassed the city. Wken Elisha's
servant looked out upon that besieging army he cried out:
"Alas, master, what shall we do?" "Fear not," said the
prophet, " they are more that be for us than those that are
against us." And the Lord opened the eyes of that servant,
and he saw the "mountains full of horses and chariots of fire
round about Elisha." How strangely, and with what power
the Lord encamps about them that fear him. "Lord," said
Elisha, "smite these men with blindness;" and immediately
the whole multitude were groping about in darkness. " Whom
do you seek?" said Elisha, as he approached them. "This is
not the way, neither is this the city. Follow me, and I will
bring you to the man you want ! " And he led them into the
midst of this very city, Samaria! "Lord," said Elisha again,
"open the eyes of these men." What was their astonishment
to fina themselves prisoners in the very court of the King of
Israel. • " Wkat shall I do ? " said the King to Elisha ; " shall I
smite them?" "Ko. Thou shalt not smite them. Wouldsl
thou smite those whom thou hast taken captive with thy
SAMARIA DELIVERED.
295
BJTord?" The good and the great are always magnanimous.
"Feed them," said the prophet, and let them go." They came
to their master with the strange story of their mission. The
King of Syria was at an utter loss to know how to carry on a
warfare with such an enemy, and he immediately left the
country.
That plain also upon which we look down from this hill, was
the scene of two unsuccessful attempts of Benhadad to take
Samaria. The first time, he was defeated in consequence of a
drunken frolic, in which himself and chief officers were en¬
gaged—^not the only or last time a battle has been lost through
the incapacity of drunken officers. Upon another occasion,
that same king closely besieged tbis city, and the inhabitants
were driven to the utmost extremity by famine. The king,
clothed in sackcloth, had his soul wrought up to the most in¬
tense degree of anguish, by the appeal of one of the mothers
of the city. "What aileththee?" said the king. "This wo¬
man said unto me : Give thy son, that we may eat hkn to-day,
and we will eat my son t3-morrow." The first part of this
horrid covenant was consummated and the child cooked and
eaten; "and now," continued the complaining mother, "she
hath hid her son." In the midst of these indescribable horrors,
Elisha sat in his house, his life hunted by the king, and when
a messenger from that king with a warrant to slay him stood
in his presence, the prophet met him fearlessly. " Thus saith
the Lord, to-morrow about this time shall a measure of fine
flour be sold for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a
shekel in the gate of Samaria." The story is too long to nar¬
rate here. But that night the Lord filled the besieging hosts
of the Syrians with imaginary dread, and they fied, leaving
every thing behind them. All their immense stores fell into
the hands of the Samaritans, and the words of the prophet
were made true. 2 Kings, vii.
It was to this city Kaaman came to be healed of his leprosy.
To this idolatrous city, in less than one year after the Savior's
death, Philip came preaching Christ, and here was organized
the first Christian church out of Jerusalem. Of the glory of
ancient Samaria, nothing now remains but heaps of stones and
42
296
THE HOLY LAND.
mutilated columns. Where once costly palaces stood, and
mighty kings reigned, the half-civilized fellah builds his miser¬
able hovel; while along these valleys, where great armies en¬
camped, and bloody battles were fought, the wandering Beda-
win leads his flocks and pitches his tent. But the Handwriting
of öod is here, and the discerning eye of the traveler cannot
fail to read it. Recall the fearful doom pronounced by ihe
prophet Micah : " I will make Samaria as an heap of the field
and as plantings of a vineyard; and 1 will pour down the stones
thereof intS the valley, and 1 will discover the foundations thereof."
Now look about you and see the heaps of buried ruins, the
vineyards and olive trees covering the site of ancient temples
and palaces ; see how they have gathered up the stones from the
rich soil and rolled them down into heaps into the valley below!
Was there ever a more exact and literal fulfillment of a pro
«
phetic declaration?
Passing down the hill, and through the village, we stopped
to talk and bargain with the natives; they gathered around us,
rude and boisterous, picked our pockets when they could get a
chance—they stole from me two pocket-handkerchiefs—and
made .themselves so annoying we were glad to take our depart¬
ure. From Samaria we passed over a fertile portion of the
country, leaving Dothan a little to the right, but crossing the
rich pasture lands where the sons, of Jacob led their flocks
when Joseph followed them, and where they consummated
their wicked designs for his ruin by first casting him into a pit,
and afterwads selling him to the Ishmaelites. We encamped
for the night at Jenin, the ancient En-gannim, a Levitical city
of Issachar, just at the opening of the great plain of Esdraelon,
and on the northern border of Samaria.
THE MOUNTAINS OF OILBOA.
April 19iÄ. A short ride over the plain northward, and we
were winding around the western point of Gilboa. As we
looked out over the naked ridge, the defeat of Saul and Jona¬
than, and the pathetic lament of David, were fresh in our minds.
Saul was encamped at the base of these mountains, and the
multitude of Philistines spread themselves over the plain. Saol,
DEATH OP SAUL.
297
the night before, had made hie way over the opposite hills of
liermon to consult the witch of Endor, and his interview with
the disturbed spirit of Samuel had not been such as to arouse
any hope of victory. He returned disheartened to his camp,
conscious that some terrible calamity was. impending. As he
sat that night in the midst of his camp, gloomy and dejected
the poet represents him as pronouncing his own doom :
" My kingdom from me rent, my children slain,
My army lost, myself from hope cast out—
The seer hath spoken well. All is achieved.
David, thou art avenged."
In the morning the onset was made. The army of Israel
«vas driven back upon these'mountains of Gilboa. " The bat¬
tle went sore against Saul, and the archers hit him." " I am
sore wounded; slay me," said he to his armor-bearer, "lest
■these uncircumcisod come and thrust me through and abuse
me." But he would :aot lift up his hand against the Lord's
anointed. Then Saul took a sword and fell upon it. The next
day the Philistines found Saul and his three sons slain in Mount
Gilboa.
The news of this sad event was brought to David, who was
already apprised that he was to be the successor in the honors
of the kingdom. He had no feelings of malignity to be grati¬
fied in this untimely fate of one who had treated him with
base cruelty and ingratitude, while to Jonathan his heart had
been bound by ties of love and friendship such as earth seldom
knows. His lament over their death is one of the most beau¬
tiful and pathetic ever put on record. The magnanimity and
poetic tenderness of his nature rose superior to every feeling of
revenge or ambitious rivalry. He mourned, wept and fasted
for Saul and Jonathan his son, and the deep emotions of his
beart found vent in the most passionate exclamations :
"The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places;
How are the mighty fallen I
Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askalon,
Lest the daughters of the Philistines rqoice.
Lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph ;
Ya mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew.
298 THE HOLY LAND.
Neither let tlire be rain upon you nor fields of offering;
Por there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away,
The shield of Saul as though he had not been anointed with ciL
How are the mighty fallen in the midst of battle I
O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places 1
How are the mighty fallen and the weapons of war perished <
EUINB 07 ANOIENT JEZBEEL.
After reaching the base of Gilboa, a short ride brought us to
Jezreel, now called Zerin, a village of about twenty wretched
looking houses, built of mud and stone. It is upon a little em¬
inence in the midst of the plain, commanding an extensive and
beautiful view. An old stone tower in the midst of the village
attracted our attention as the most imposing object in the
town. Its rooms have been thrown open to the sheep and
goats, and they have herded here and climbed the stone stair¬
ways till the uppermost rooms are filled with their filth. We
succeeded, by dint of hard climbing, in reaching the tower,
where we remained for some time studying the localities of the
various strange incidents that had transpired in this immediate
vicinity. Here we looked out over the great Plain of Esdraelon,
stretching away for miles in beauty and fertility towards the
Mediterranean Sea. On the west was Carmel; on the north¬
west the hills of Galilee, among the quiet vales of which Jesus
spent his boyhood.
This Plain of Esdraelon is one of the great battle-fields of the
world. Its length is about eighteen miles, its breadth from
twelve to fifteen miles. It is the ancient " Plain of Megiddo,"
and the numerous battles fought here is supposed to have sug¬
gested to the Apostle John his name of the battle-ground on
which the last great confiict between the hosts of good and evil
shall take place. He saw these powers gathered against each
other into a place, called, in the Hebrew tongue, "Armageddorif^'
that is, the " City oj Megiddo"
Looking away across the plain towards Carmel, the base of
which is washed by the river Eashon, our eye rested on the
battle-field, where, more than three thousand years ago, Debo¬
rah and Barak overcame and made such terrible slaughter
among the hosts of Sisera—the event that gave rise to the sub
DEATH OF JEZEBEL
299
lime song of Deborah, in which the kkigs of Canaan fought by
the waters of Megiddo, the stars in their courses fought against
Sisera, and the river Kishon swept them away. Here, too, we
looked out upon the field where Necho, King of Egypt, en¬
camped on his way to fight against Carchemish by Euphrates
Josiah, King of Judab, rashly came up here and pitched battle
with him, and here he received his death wound. On this
plain the Crusaders have fought, and here, in still later times,
Kapoleon came to meet, in deadly strife, the Saracenic foe.
Kow let us turn and look down at our feet. On this very
ground was once the proud capital of Samaria. Where these
miserable Arab huts now stand, the place was once adorned by
royal palaces ; and here was the court of that wicked woman
Jezebel. Here was the vineyard of Kaboth—it appears to me
it would be easy to select the very spot, just upon the plain
.there that opens away toward the Jordan, and near the walls
of the city. Jezebel's conspiracy against Kaboth, his cruel
murder, the seizure of his vineyard by the king, are all too
well known to need rehearsal here. Jezebel thought that
wealth and royalty might commit crime with impunity ; but an
onmiscient God pronounced sentence against her by the mouth
of his prophet : " The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel ! '
It was not long after this that strange things were transpiring
about this city ; for great sins will provoke terrible judgments.
There stood a watchman on a tower in Jezreel—I almost won¬
dered, as I read the account, if this tower on which we stood
was not the very one—^he saw a hostile company approaching
the city, and " the driving was like the driving of Jehu, the
son of ÍTimshi; for he driveth furiously." And Joram, King
of Israel, and Ahaziah, King of Judah, went out in haste to
meet him. " Is it peace, Jehu ? " said Joram. " What peace,"
answered Jehu, "so long as the whoredoms of thy mother
Jezebel, and her witchcrafts are so many?" This cutting re¬
buke was followed by an arrow that pierced through the heart
of Joram, and they threw him in contempt into the vineyard
that his mother had obtained by the murder of its owner. And
now the avenger, Jehu, was in the city. "Throw her down,"
said he, as he looked up and saw Jezebel in the palace window.
300
THE HOLY LAND.
Dashed upon the pavement, her blood was sprinkled upon the
wall, and upon the horses, and they trampled her under foot ;
and when the messengers came to bury her, the ravenous dogs
had left only her skull, feet, and the palms of her hands ! We
looked down upon the ground that witnessed the horrors and
drank the blood of this awful tragedy, when our English
friends proposed, in view of the contrast between their good
queen'Victoria and the bloody Jezebel, we should sing "God
save the Queen." How different from the wail of that dying
woman, were the strains of that old national anthem, as they
floated away upon the breeze !
GIDEON'S WONDEBFUL VIOTOET.
A few minutes more and we had started down the valley,
close along the base of Gilboa, to visit the fountain of Jezreel,
where Gideon tried his army, and to ride over the fleld where
his wonderful victory was achieved. The fountain is only a
half hour's ride from Jezreel, and is now called Ain Jalud, The
water flows out from a large cavity at the base of Gilboa ; a
wall has been erected to conflne the waters, making an exten¬
sive pool, I should think two to three hundred feet broad, and
twice as long; from this it flows off in a clear, copious stream,
toward the Jordan. It was just here that Saul was encamped
with his army the night before the sad defeat that terminated
so disastrously to himself and family. But if this has been the
scene of a melancholy defeat, so has it also been of one of
the most remarkable victories on record. It was in the days of
the Judges, three thousand years ago. The enemies of Israel
were the Midianites, Amalekites, and the children of the East.
They crossed the Jordan, came up this valley, "with their
cattle and their tents, and as grasshoppers for multitude."
Then it was the Spirit of the Lord came upon Gideon.
Assured of the favor of God, he gathered an army of thirty-
two thóusand men and encamped on this side of the valley,
while the hosts of the invaders lay along the opposite side.
The Lord had a lesson to teach Israel of dependence and trust
on him. " The people that are with thee are too many ; who¬
soever is afraid let him depart." That simple test stripped
THE VICTOKY OP PAITH.
301
Gideon of twenty-two thousand men, and he had but ten
thousand left. " Bring them to the water," said the Lord, and
by this fountain they stood. Another test, from the manner m
which they drank, was applied, and only three hundred men
remained to Gideon, to subdue that countless host.
Under cover of night he stole into the camp of the Midian-
ites, and a man was relating to his fellow how he saw in his
dream a barley loaf tumbling into the camp of Midian, and it
smote a tent and overturned it. This dream was to Gideon an
omen of good. Then came the singular stratagem of the
pitchers, the trumpets, and the lamps, and the cry that carried
consternation through all the ranks of the enemy : " The sword
of the Lord and of Gideon." And the Midianites turned in
their consternation and fought each other. The result was a
total defeat, and they were driven back over the Jordan with
a great slaughter. Judges viii. It was with peculiar interest
I drank from the water of this fountain, and rode over this
wonderful battle-field! Thirty centuries have passed away
since it happened, but it still has its lessons of faith and trust
in an overruling God. Feeble instrumentalities, used in faith
and owned of God, may accomplish the most wonderful results.
We now struck directly across the plain of Jezreel, here from
four to five miles broad, reaching to the base of Little Hermon.
We stopped to take our noonday lunch at Shunem, now called
Salem. We cannot stop to rehearse the interesting event that
here transpired in connection with the prophet Elisha. This is
the place where " a great woman " built the " little chamber
on the wall," and here the prophet was entertained as he
passed back and forth in his missions through the land. Her
hospitality was afterwards rewarded by the restoration of her
little son to life. 2 Kings, iv.
We now passed around the western point of Little Hermon,
and caught our first view of Mount Tabor, lifting its great
oval form in majesty and beauty directly from the plain. One
hour from Shunem we reached Hain, the village where our
Savior met the funeral procession and raised the widow's son
to life. From this we turned somewhat aside from our direct
route, and in less than an hour we reached Endor, the home of
«02
THE HOLT LAND.
the witch Saul came to consult the night before his death. It
is now a village of some twenty miserable houses, perched upon
the hill-side, far above the valldy. One thing that struck me,
both here and at Nain, were the numerous caves excavated in
the rocky hill-sides ; they have a wild and gloomy look, and I
wondered if some of them were not the very ones mentioned
in connection with the invasion of the Midianites, at the tim«
of Gideon's battle, when the terrified Israelites " made them¬
selves dens which are in the mountains, and caves and strong¬
holds." If witches are still to be found, I should certainly
think they might be conjured up from those gloomy looking
abodes. From Endor we turned back to our direct route,
crossed the plain, passing a short distance from the base of
Tabor, climbed over a rugged ridge of hills, and at 6 o'clock,
after a loijg, laborious day, in which we had visited many
points of interest, pitched our tents in
THE OITT or NAZARETH.
April 20íA. Here we are, in the old homd of Joseph and
Mary—the city where Jesus spent his early life. If you are
disposed to ask, like one of old : " Can any good thing come
out of Nazareth ? " to the old question I would return the old
answer : " Come and see." "We are to take a walk in the city,
and the memory may be refreshed, and perhaps faith strength¬
ened, as we roam over the places where the Savior lived, walked,
and taught.
"We have taken our breakfast under the shade of a venerable
olive tree, close by the side of the great thoroughfare that
leads from the city to a fountain near by, from which a great
porlion'of the drinking water for the inhabitants is obtained.
A throng of women are continually passing and repassing,
with their waterpots poised upon their.heads, just as they did
when Jesus was a child Along this very path he has walked
again and again with his mother, as she went to fill hei
pitcher ; indeed, it is asserted by many, that it was at that
very fountain the angel met her and made the strange an¬
nouncement : « Hail thou that art highly favored, the Lord is
with thee; blessed art thou among women." Luke i. 28.
THE HOUSE OP JOSEPH.
303
This place is now called the " Fountain of the Virgin," and
the Greek Christians have a large structure near it, called the
"Church of the Annundation"
Nazareth, as we may learn from scripture, is built upon a
hill. Eeneath it is a fertile valley, and high above, covered
with foliage, and crowned with a little Moslem mosque, is the
bold summit of the eminence, to the side of which it clings.
It has a population of about four thousand, of which probably
tifteen hundred are Greeks. The others are Latin Christians,
Maronites and Mohammedans. The houses are of stone, sub¬
stantially built, and there is an air of thrift, enterprise and
manliness about the town we had not seen in any other place
since we left Jerusalem. "We first visited the English Mission
School, and were glád to find it in a flourishing condition.
Among the children were a number whose parents were
murdered in the recent massacre by the Druses.
Next we turned our steps to the Latin Convent—a neat pile
of buildings, inclosed with a massive stone wall. We took a
hasty walk through several portions of the building, and then
entered the church—the church that covers the ancient home
of Joseph and Mary ! Service was being performed, and the
familiar tones of the organ, and other accompaniments of
worship, awakened thoughts of Christian lands. We waited
till service had closed, when we descended from the main room
of the building a broad fiight of fifteen stone steps, into a
grotto in the hill-side. In a portion of this grotto is a beauti¬
ful marble altar, beneath it a marble slab, ornamented with a
cross. Here the Latins say the Virgin stood during the An¬
nunciation ! The whole interior of this sanctum and vestibule
is encased with marble, ornamented with pictures, and hung
with costly silver lamps. This is the "Holy Grotto" of Naza¬
reth. From this grotto you are taken back into still deeper
recesses, where the cold, rough, rocky walls are left uncovered
and unadorned. In one place a staircase leads to the " Virgin
Mary's Kitchen ! "
From the convent and church we passed on up the hill u
..hort distance, and were taken to the workshop of Joseph.
This is also now transformed by the Latins into a chapei.
304
THE HOLY LAND.
Here, they said, Jesus was accustomed to work with his father
Then we were taken to another building, said to be the syna
gogue in which Jesus read the scriptures on the Sabbath day.
This is now owned by the Greeks, and has also been trans«
formed into a Christian Church. It was from this synagogue
that Jesus was led by his enraged fellow citizens to "the
brow of the hill whereon the city was built," from which they
intended to cast him down. I went out with one of my fellcw
travelers, the morning we left here, to see if we could find near
by any precipitous place, of a hight sufficient to have answered
the purpose of these murderous K'azarenes. The monks have
located this place about two miles from the village, upon the
brow of a steep precipice overhanging the plain. It is not
likely, however, the place was so far from the town. Just in
the suburbs of the town, a short distance above where our
tents were pitched, we found a steep declivity that would
answer all the requisitions of the'scripture narrative.
Having visited the principal places of interest in the city,
we climbed the lofty hill in the rear of the town, to enjoy the
extensive prospect that may there be had of the surrounding
country. This view is said to be one of the finest in all Pales¬
tine. To say nothing of the picturesque hills and valleys just
about you, the bold summit of Tabor, the snowy peaks of
Hermón, the long, dark ridge of Carmel, the great plain of
Esdrselon, and the distant waters of the Mediterranean, are all
in view. But from these sublime prospects my own thoughts
were continually reverting to the events that had transpired
just at my feet. How I wished that we could know something
more of the boyhood of the Savior ! Here was the home of
his youth ; over these hills, and about these valleys, he wander¬
ed. Here he was obedient to the authority of his parents.
From this place, when but twelve years old, his parents took
him up to the temple at Jerusalem, where he astonished the
learned doctors by the wisdom of his questions and answers.
Here he increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with
God and man. Here his mother marked these wonderful
events and developments, and " pondered them in her heart."
Here he was known only as the son. of a carpenter, and here
A SACRED MOUNTAIN.
305
his orethrea and kindred lived ! What a strange life was that
of Jesus ! At the age of thirty, from the obscurity of this vale
of Nazareth, he burst like a meteor's light upon the world.
His career was a brief and humble one, confined to a small
extent of territory, yet he kindled a light that is enveloping
the world in glory! We wonder at the strange things he
wrougnt ; but the rise, spread and power of his religion is a
standing miracle, the greatest wonder of them all 1
MOUNT TABOB.
At 11 o'clock our visit to Nazareth was completed, and we
were on our way to visit Tiberias and the Sea of Galilee. In
a little less than two hours we reached the base of Tabor. We
had passed near it and had a fine view of it on our way to
Nazareth, as we crossed a portion of the great plain from
which it« rises. Now our road lay directly across its northern
base, and on this route the traveler generally takes the oppor¬
tunity of ascending its summit. It projects from the south¬
eastern formation of the hills of Galilee. It is a grand and
imposing object, an isolated mountain, between four and five
miles in circumference at the base, rising like a great round-
topped sugar loaf, 1,350 feet high; standing in lone and
solemn grandeur, upon the great plain of Esdrselon, which
forms its base. The ascent of this mountain is by a circuitous
path, and occupies about one hour. It is richly tídorned with
verdure—oak trees, and various kinds of shrubbery, covering
the top, while the sides are adorned with a great variety of
beautiful flowers. On the summit are found piles of old ruins,
the remnants of towns and fortifications that have existed
here from the days of Joshua down to the devastations of the
crusades, and from their day to this.
The great beauty, and singular position and formation of
Mount Tabor, would immortalize it, and, together with the
fine view from its summit, attract many travelers to it. But it
has other attractions. It is one of the sacred mountains of
the Bible, and standing upon it, we see around us, and beneath
us, the theatre of great and instructive events. It was at this
mount, while the Canaanites were oppressing Israel, that Bebo
306
the holt; land.
rahj by the direction of the Almighty, gathered ten thcusan u
men under the command of Barak. Along the base of Carmel,
by yonder Kishon, lay Jabin's army, an immense multitude,
with nine hundred chariots of iron, under the command of
Sisera. At the given signal Barak descended from Mt. Tabor,
and Sisera, with all his hosts, was smitten with the edge of
the sword. This signal triumph was celebrated by a song of
Deborah, the prophetess, renowned for its beauty and sublimity,
Judges v.
But not merely in ancient wars has this place been celebrated.
Bonaparte himself visited Mount Tabor, and'added another to
the baptisms of blood this hill and plain have received. On this
broad plain beneath our feet, a little more than fifty years ago,
an immense Turkish army of fifteen thousand infantry and
twelve thousand cavalry was drawn up in battle array. Kleber
marched out from Nazareth, about five miles distant, -yith thru
thousand men, and at once engaged in bloody strife with this
txoenty-seven thousand! We cannot stop to describe the particu¬
lars of the bloody scene. Six dreadful hours Kleber and his
handful of men fought against this fearful odds, piling around
them heaps on heaps of slain. At this critical juncture.
Napoleon is seen wheeling down from Tabor "with another
division of his men. The Turks were driven down upon the
Jordan, where Murat charged upon them with his cavaliy, and
decided the fate of the day.
And yet Tabor is not alone a mount of blood. It has wit¬
nessed other scenes that may well redeem it from these stains
of human carnage. It has been gory from the blood of thous¬
ands slain ; it has been covered with glory from the presence
and communion of heavenly visitants. Jesus, the Son of God,
"took Peter, and James, and John, and went up into a high
mountain apart," and Tabor was witness of a scene in which
heaven and earth had a deeper interest than all other events
that cluster about this sacred mount. "While He was praying,
the fashion of his countenance was altered, and his raiment
became white and glistering ; and there appeared Moses and
JBlijah from Heaven, talking with him. Moses was the great
lawgiver of Israel ; Elijah was the chief of all the prophets.
THE MOUNT OF BEATITUDES, 307
Their mission was now accomplished. In Christ, their great
successor, the prophecies centered, in him the law was fulfilled.
Now they came as the representatives of types, shadows, and
prophetic predictions, to lay down their mission at the feet of
IQm who was greater than them all ! The wondering disciples
were overawed by the radiant glory of their master and the
presence of the heavenly visitants—a cloud overshadowed them,
and they feared as they entered into it, but there they caught
such glimpses of the heavenly glory and angelic company they
said, " Master, it is good for us to be here."
We were now passing through the rich portion of coun¬
try formerly occupied by Zebulon. We cannot detain the
reader by any definite descriptions of this part of Galilee.
Our road wound through fertile- vales, and along rocky hills.
From Tabor to Tiberias is a ride of about five hours. Wind¬
ing down a steep rocky ridge, we came upon an old, dilapi¬
dated town, now called Kefr Kenna, supposed by many to be
the Cana of Galilee, where Christ's first miracle—turning the
water into wine—was performed. The Greeks have a little
church and convent here, built, of course, on the site of the
house where the marriage was performed! A priest, in a
Greek cap and long black robe, made his appearance at the
gate, and ofiered—for a backsheesh of course—to show ug some
of the veritable water-pots used on that memorable occasion !
As we passed on we rode over miles of rich pasture grounds,
where not a house or inhabitant was to be seen, the rank grass
growing to our horses' knees. Over these immense tracts the
wild Bedawin roams, and occasionally a cluster of his low, black
tents may be seen. As we approached the sea of Galilee we
were passing a broad table-land of gentle undulations, and a
little distance to our left rose up a saddle-shaped hill, known ae
the "Horns of Hattin." That mount is pointed out as the
traditional place where our Lord delivered his sermon—the
Mount of Beatitudes. It was a convenient and beautiful place
for the assembling of the multitude, and I could not but picture
in. my imagination the scene, when the thousands gathered
upon its green slopes, overawed by the majesty, and impressed
with the authority of their strange and wonderful preacher.
308
THE HOLY LAND.
As we passed on we were riding over another celebrated bat
tie-field. In July, 1187, the King of Jerusalem assembled tbo
flower of the Christian army on this great plateau. A number
of circumstances conspired to arouse the animosity, always
strong between Moslems and Christians. Saladin with bis Mo¬
hammedan hordes came up in immense numbers from the
northern part of the Sea of Galilee. The Christian army was
overpowered; a terrible slaughter ensued; the victory was a
decisive one, and Saladin was master of the land—^it was the
end of the Crusaders' power in Palestine.
On we rode, gradually ascending to the ridge of the lofby
bills that overlook the sea. The summit was gained—all at
once the coveted sight burst upon our view, and we looked
down the steep slope upon the blue wai;ers as they lay in calm¬
ness and beauty, in their deep basin of bills, nearly a thousand
feet beneath us. We reigned in our horses, swung our bats in
the air, and cheered for joy!
The descent was rapid, in some places the path so steep,
rocky and difficult, we dismounted and made our way on foot.
The sun was dipping bis disk below the western horizon, as we
passed the ruined gateway of the old, dilapidated wall, and
pitched our tents in the ancient city of Tiberias, a few rods
from the shore of the sea. It was Saturday night, and we had
made our arrangements to spend the Sabbath in this interesting
locality. We lost no time in making preparations to make our
stay as instructive and iiseful as possible. On these waters,
where once so many fishermen plied their craft, but one solita¬
ry boat is now found! "We immediately dispatched our drago¬
man to make arrangements with the old Druse who owned it,
to have it in readiness for us. We found it was at the fpot of
the lake, and it would take a half day to have it brought up.
This would answer, as we wished for it on Monday morning to
make an excursion to the head of the lake.
THE OJTT OF TIBERIAS.
This is an old Eoman town, and though lying in the imme¬
diate vicinity of the most interesting portions of the Savior's
ministry, is not mentioned by him, nor have we any account
TIBERIAS AND THE SEA OF QALILBF
OUR ENCAMPMENT AT THE BEA OE GAXIXjEEI APRIL, 1861» THE PREAKFAST.
Ol D TIBEEIAS. 311
of it8 ever having been visited by him, probably from the fact
that it was principally occupied by foreigners. It appears to
have been built subsequent to the birth of Christ, and probably
in the days of his preaching had not attained much distinction.
The Rabbins say it was built on the site of the old city, Eak-
keth, mentioned in Joshua. This new city subsequently be¬
came the capital of the province of Galilee. After the Jews-
were driven from Jerusalem they made this their headquarters;
the Sanhedrim was removed here ; here dwelt many of their
most eminent Rabbis, and their tombs are still shown in the
hill-side back of the town. Among these were the celebrated
Maimonides, and Jochannan, author of the Gemara, or Jerusa¬
lem Talmud.
The modern town is a wretched, dilapidated looking place,
containing about two thousand inhabitants, eight hundred of
whom, it is said, are Jews ; the others. Druses and Mohammed¬
ans. In 1887 the place was nearly destroyed by an earth¬
quake. Up to this time it was surrounded by a strong stone
wail. In this calamity many of the houses were destroyed,
great seams were left in the walls, and in some places they
were so prostrated a horse could be rode over them, and no at¬
tempt has been made to rebuild them. The walls and houses
are built of a black, volcanic stone, giving the place a dark and
gloomy appearance. The inhabitants are poor, the streets nar¬
row and filthy, and lying as it does in a deep basin, six hun¬
dred feet below the Mediterranean, the sun pours upon them
his scorching rays, giving them almost a tropical climate. The
filth of the city affords a capital breeding place for vermin, and
I was impressed with the fact, mentioned by so many travelers,
that the king of fleas holds his court in Tiberias.
On Sunday morning the most of our company went out to
perfornci their ablutions in the warm baths near the town.
T'bey are situated upon the sea-shore, only about fifteen min¬
utes' walk from the walls. The level strip of ground along the
shore was once covered by the old town, and portions of ruined
walls and fragments of columns are strewn all along the way.
The bath-house is a neat little structure, built from the ruins of
the old town. In the center of the main room is a large mar-»
812
THE HOLY LAND.
ble reservoir, capable of swimming from twenty to thirty per¬
sons at a time. Into this is constantly pouring a copious stream
that gushes from the hill-side. This water has a temperature
of 144° Fahr., so warm that when one first plunges the hand
into it, it feels burning hot. It is extremely salt and bitter, and
emits a strong sulphurous smell. These baths are considered
efficacious in rheumatic complaints, cutaneous eruptions, and
various other diseases. They are very much resorted to by the
natives, and we found around them, like the Pool of Bethesda
in the days of the Savior, a great multitude of impotent folks.
I looked upon the great smoking bath-tub, upon the imbecile
multitude that were coming and going, and turned away to
make my bath in the pure, sweet waters of the lake, leaving
my companions to boil themselves in the polluted waters, with
the diseased multitude, till they were satisfied.
A SUNDAY AT GALILEE.
Breakfast was over, and we had a Sabbath day to spen«*
about the shores of this beautiful lake, hallowed by so manj
interesting incidents in the life of the Savior. There were no
Christian temples here, no assemblies of saints to invite us to
devotion ; yet what Christian could look upon this amphitheatre
of hills, and not feel that here was a glorious temple for wor¬
ship ? Who could listen to the murmur of these waters, and
not feel the kindlings of devout and enthusiastic aspirations?
This sea was one of the favorite resorts of the Savior, and
on its shores he made his home. It was by these waters he
walked, in the early part of his ministry, when he saw Andrew
and Peter casting their nets into the sea, and that strange call
fell upon their ears : "Follow me, and I will make you fishers
of men ! " It was on the slope of these beautiful hills Jesus
came and sat down, and the lame, blind, dumb açd maimed were
laid at his feet, and felt his healing power, and the astonished
multitude glorified God! It was on the opposite banks of this
sea he had compassion on the famishing multitude, and multi¬
plied the loaves and the fishes, till the assembled thousands
were satisfied ! It was down that steep bank that is now with¬
in our sight the crazy herd of swine, under the influence of the
A WAASON OF WOESHIP. • 318
evil spii'ta tlidt had been cast out of the Gadarene, plungea
into the sea! It was on these waters Jesus slept, while the
frail bark that bore him and his disciples was endangered by
the fury of the tempest; when the terrified disciples aroused
him from his slumbers: "Lord, save us, we perish;" and here
it was he arose, rebuked their lack of faith, and in the calm
•
majesty of Omnipotent oower, laid his hand upon the furious
elements, and hushed them to peace ! And, again, it was on
these waters, in the lone hour of night, tossed by the waves and
driven out of their course by contrary winds, the disciples were
astonished by the sudden and miraculous appearance of their
Lord, walking upon the water and saying: "Be of good
cheer; it is I; be not afraid." It was on these shores the lone
and afflicted disciples, after the crucifixion, pressed for the ne¬
cessities of life, gathered together and betook themselves to
their old occupation ; and it was while here engaged that their
risen master appeared standing upon the shore, and attested
his presence and character by the miraculous draught of fishes !
"What numerous associations conspire to embalm this lake in
the memory of the Christian !
At 11 o'clock, by previous agreement, our little company as¬
sembled in an upper room of one of the old deserted watch-
towers of the wall that overlooked the sea, for a season of social
worship. Each one selected a portion of Scripture narrating
some incident in the life or teachings of the Savior connected
with these waters; these were read in turn, intermingled with
prayer and singing. With what deep interest we read these
narratives, and with what life and power they seemed invested,
as we looked out upon the localities where they transpired.
As our eyes rested upon the sloping hills, covered with verdure,
where the multitudes gathered about Jesus, one read the ac¬
count of the feeding of that multitude with the few loaves and
fishes ; as we looked across the sea upon the hills of Gadara,
another read the account of the healing'of the man possessed
with devils, and the destruction of the swine; then we looked
down upon the placid waters of the sea, while another read the
Btory of Peter, as Christ came by night walking on the water.
Thus we spent the hours of worship, feeling that we were
iU
THE HOLT LAND.
nearer than ever to Him whose words and deeds transcend all
human wisdom and power.
As the shades of evening gathered over the land, I wandered
along the shore, and climbed upon the hills to muse, alone,
upon the strange events that had embalmed this sea and its
surroundings in the memory and afiections of the believer. 1
remembered how the Savior, after that day of toil in which he
had taught a>nd fed the multitudes, sent them awa^, and then
departed by himself into a mountain alone to pray, continuing
nearly all night in this blessed communion with holy beings.
Here I was in the midst of that very scenery, where
" Cold mountain vapors and the midnight air
Witnessed the fervor of his prayer."
"What a hallowed place ! As the shades of night deepened
upon me, I tarried still, for I felt more than ever that it was
blessed, in the midst of these hallowed associations, to shed the
penitential tear, to cast my soul upon that Savior, and plead the
promises of Him who, in the days of his flesh, disturbed the
calm stillness of the night, and woke these mountain echoes
with his voice of prayer.
CHOBAZIN, BETHSAIDA AND CAFEBNAUM.
Monday, April 22d. At 6 o'clock we were afloat upon the
waters for an excursion to the head of the sea, to visit the site
of the old cities that existed here in the days of the Savior.
The boat, as we have said, was the only one upon the sea; it
was a miserable old worn-out thing, large enough to hold fif¬
teen to twenty persons, and so leaky it kept one person con¬
stantly bailing. It had a small, movable mast, with an old
lateen sail, but as there was no wind, we had to depend upon
the oars alone. Of these there was but one pair, worked by a
couple of indolent fellows, who moved as if the amount of their
wages depended upon the length of time to which they could
protract the voyage. The owner of the boat, a tall, dignified
looking old Druse, his head adorned with the great white tur¬
ban that distinguishes his sect, accompanied us as steeraman
ON THN SEA OF GALILEE.
815
For this outfit to take us to the head of the lake, about six
miles and back, we paid about eight dollars and a half.
The Sea of Galilee, or Lake of Tiberias, is a beautiful sheet of
clear, sweet water, of an irregular oval shape, broadest towards
the north end. It is not over fourteen, some say not more
than twelve miles long, and between eight and nine broad it
the broadest part. The depth in some places exceeds one
hundred and fifty feet. It lies embosomed in lofty hills, the
rich, sloping sides of which are covered with vegetation. It
still abounds in fish, but the fishermen have mostly disappeared
from its shores. I saw no person while I was there engaged in
this employment. As the Christian feels that almost every spot
upon these shores ia " holy ground," so he feels that these are
consecrated waters. With what vividness those scenes in the
life of the Savior came home to us, as we rode over the waters
upon which Jesus walked, and whose tumultuous waves he
hushed to peace.
" Graceful around thee the mountains meet,
Thou calm, reposing sea;
But ah I far more, the beautiful feet
Of Jesus walked o'er thee."
We inquired of the old helmsman if he had ever been out in
storms on this sea. "Yes, often." "Are they dangerous?"
said I. "Very,", said he. "I have been a sailor, and would
rather be on the ocean in a storm than here." " Why ? " said I.
" The wind comes suddenly whirling down over these hills, and
blows every way, and the waves roll in every direction." "And
what do you do at such times?" said I. "Hold on the helm
and let the boat run which way it will," said he. How much,
thought I, like the condition of the disciples on that stormy
night, when Jesus so miraculously came to them: "The ship
was in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves, for the winds were
contrary." Mat. xiv. 24.
As we neared our destination, we could see upon the western
shore the Plain of Genesaret—a beautiful and fertile tract—
while in one place, nestling close under the hill-side, a few Arab
huts mark the site of Magdala, the supposed home of the Mary,
316 THEHOLTLAND.
who SO gratefully acknowledged the healing power of the 8»-
vior. Between 10 and 11 o'clock we landed near the ruins of
Tell Hum, the supposed site of ancient Capernaum.
We made our way through the tall, rank weeds, that here
every where cover the soil, and soon reached the spot. Hot a
single building is now left standing. Piles of great hewn stone
lie scattered about; the massive foundations of ruined struo-
tures can still be seen ; while the shafts of ancient columns, and
beautiful marble capitals of fine Corinthian sculpture, are min¬
gled with the ruins and half-buried in the earth. The tangled
thicket of enormous weeds and thistles grow high over them
all, and nearly conceal them from sight. Ho road passes near
them, seldom does human foot visit them, and the wild Arab
has such a superstitious dread of the place, he turns aside and
refuses to walk over the place ! Yet here was once a populous
city, and about it one of the most populous portions of the
laud, while near by were many other cities and towns.
To this place, when Jesus' own kindred had expelled him
from Hazareth, he came ; in Capernaum he dwelt, and it was
called " his own city." Here in the synagogue he was accus¬
tomed to teach, and in that synagogue he healed the demoniac
that cried out against him. Here he entered Peter's house, and
found his mother-in-law sick of a fever, and immediately re¬
stored her to health. Here he healed the paralytic man whose
friends tore up the roof of the house, that they might let him
down into his presence ; here he cured the centurion's servant,
and raised Jairu's daughter from the dead. From here he sent
his disciples down to the sea to take a fish from the water, in the
mouth of which they found the tribute money. In Capernaum
he often preached, and how many and how instructive the les¬
sons that fell from his lips ! Hear by was Chorazin and Beth-
saida, and it was in these cities and this vicinity that "mosi of
his mighty works were done." Alas, how changed—^how fallen—
how ruined ! It is difficult to conceive a more gloomy desola¬
tion and utter ruin than has settled down upon these places. I
inquired for the site of Chorazin and Bethsaida, and none
could tell me where they stood ! I climbed upon the fragment
of a broken column, and looked inquiringly about me. Was
THE DOOM OF CHOBAZIN. 317
this beautiful shore once ornamented with populous cities?
Where now this oppressive silence reigns, was there once heard
the hum of multitudes of voices, and the tumult of gathering
crowds? WTiy then has this utter ruin and desolation settled
aown upon the land ? I opened my Bible, and the mystery was
solved. " Then began He to upbraid the cities wherein most
of his mighty works were done, because they repented not. Wo
unto thee, Chorazin! wo unto thee, Bethsaida! for if the
mighty works which have been done in thee had been done in
Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sack¬
cloth and ashes. But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable
for Tyre and Sidon in the day of judgment than for you. And
thoUf Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought
down to kell; for if the mighty works which have been done in
thee "had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until
this day." And is this the spot upon which the fearful doom
has fallen?
" Tell me, ye moldering fragments, tell,
Was the Savior's city here?
Lifted to heaven, has it sank to hell,
With none to shed a tear? "
How literally and remarkably the words of the Savior have
been fulfilled! How, upon these extinct and ruined cities,
these depopulated plains, he has written with his own hand the
impressive lessons of his overruling providence, his certain
and terrible judgments!
Our visit among these ruins over, we made all haste back to
Tiberias, for our tents and baggage had gone on to Hazareth,
and we must return there before we slept. At 2 o'clock our
excursion was over. We waited for one more bath in the clear,
refresliing waters, when, mounting our horses, we were soon
upon the lofty summit of the hill, from which we turned, and
took our last farewell view of its tranquil waters. The words
of M'Cheyne we could adopt as our own :
" How pleasant to mo thy deep blue wave,
O sea of Galilee,
For the glorious One who came to save^.
Have often stood by thee.
818
THE HOLY LAND.
Eair are the lakes in the land I love,
Where pine and heather grow ;
But thou hast lovelineea aboTO
What nature can bestow."
It was nearly an hour after dark when we reached our tents
at Nazareth, weary with our long, laborious day's labor, but
gratified that we had been able to visit so many places inti¬
mately connected with the life and labors of Jesus. To-mor¬
row we are to leave Nazareth, and continue our excursion ty,
Mount Carmel and the scene of Elijah's sacrifice to the shors
of'the Mediterranean Sea.
Momt Carmel
APPROACH TO CARMEL
821
CHAPTER XI.
From Xazarbth to Beirut—Mount Carmel—Tyre—Sidon—
Conclusion op our Tour in Palestine.
April 23t¿. By 7 o'clock our breakfast was over and we were
in our saddles, ready to bid farewell to the pleasant vale of Xaza-
reth. It is, indeed, a retired, quiet and beautiful place—a fit
retreat it must have been for the " holy family," who, on their
1 eturn from Egypt, still feared the murderous anger of the suc¬
cessor of that Herod who had filled Ramah with weeping and
lamentation. "We climbed the long, rugged range of hills that
separates this beautiful valley from Esdrselon, and were soon
passing over that extensive plain.
About 11 o'clock we reached the base of Carmel, another of
the sacred mountains of Scripture, and intimately connected
with the history of the prophet Elijah., Carmel is not a single
round-topped peak, rising in lone majesty like Tabor, but a
long ridge branching off from the northern end of the moun
tains of Samaria. It runs in a northwesterly direction, and
terminates in a bold, high bluff, the projecting top of which
overhangs, and the huge base of which is washed by the waters
of the Mediterranean. This ridge is about eighteen miles in
'ength, its breadth about five miles, while it rises nearly two
thousand feet above the sea. Well, says one, does it deserve
its name, " The Park," or " The Fruitful Field ? " " Its wooded
bights and picturesque green dells, descending on one side into
the rich plains of Akka, and on the other to the beautiful vale
of Sharon, present some of the most beautiful and park-like
scenery in Palestine." The "excellency of Carmel" is put oy
Isaiah by the side of the glory of Lebanon, and the withering
322
THE HOLT LAND.
of its foliage, and the shaking off of its fruits, is made a type
of national desolation.
ELIJAH'S SACRIFICE.
The place where we approached the mountaife was near the
scene of that striking event in the life of Elijah, that brought
apostate Israel back to the acknowledgment of the living
God., 1 Kipgs xviii. Tradition points out the very spot where
the altar was erected and the strange events transpired, and
the tradition seems to be well sustained. It is called El Mura -
kah, " the Sacrifice." Our company, wishing to visit the spot,
hired an extra guide from one of the small Arab villages of the
plain. Fatigued by the heat and labor of the previous day, I
did not feel able to endure the extra toil of ascending the
mountain, and so contented myself with riding on with the
baggage train the nearest way to the place of our encampment
for the night.
The mountain is covered with a forest of short scrubby oaks^
and a dense undergrowth of hawthorn, myrtle and acacia. A
vast variety of wild flowers are scattered along its sides, and
fragrant herbs perfume the air. Along its base flows the
waters of the Kishon, mentioned in Judges in connection with
the victory achieved by Deborah and Barak over the forces of
Sisera. " The stars in their courses fought against Sisera. The
river Kishon swept them away, that ancient river Kishon.
Here we were upon this noted plain—the great battle-field
where Phonecians and Philistines, Jews and Gentiles, Assyrians
and Persians, Crusaders and Saracens, Turks, Arabs and Franks,
had in turn fought their bloody battles ; and now we bathed our
horses' feet in that ancient river, that had, through a succession
of three thousand years, been reddened with the blood of all
these different nations.
As we passed along the base, we looked up the mountain
slope to the place where Elijah reared up the demolished altar
of God, and fire out of heaven consumed bis sacrifice. Upon
a rocky projection overhanging the plain, amid thickets of ev¬
ergreen, is a terrace of natural rock, where the ruins of an old
•building are scattered about in every direction; great hewn
CARME.L AND ELIJAH.
323
etones are seen, indicating the existeitce, at some former time,
of a great superstructure. These ruins mark the place of the
suciißce, while a fountain near by probably furnished the
twelve barrels oí water with which Elijah's offering was
leluged.
Ahab and Jezebel had turned the hearts of Israel away from
the Lord, and on this spot an idolatrous altar had been conse¬
crated to Baal. God's altar had been'thrown down, his prophets
slain, and the anger of the Lord was kindled against the nation.
Three years and six months the drought had consumed the
land; the grass withered upon these fertile plains, the fountains
of water were dried up, and famine showed his lean and wasted
visage in the very court of the king. During all this time of
distress, Elijah, though a reward had been offered for his life,
had heen taken care of, first by the ravens at the brook Cherith,
and then from the unfailing cruse of oil and barrel of meal of
the widow of Sarepta. And now the time had come for him
to show himself again at the court of Ahab, for afflictions had
humbled the haughty king and queen. " Art thou he," said
Ahab, " that troubleth Israel ?" "I have not troubled Israel,'
was the answer, " but thou and thy father's house, in that ye
have forsaken the commandments of the Lord. Now gather
me all Israel unto Mount Carmel, and the prophets of Baal four
hundred and fifty, and the prophets of the grove four hundred,
which eat at Jezebel's table."
Now look upon the mighty concourse assembled upon the
mountain slope above us ! We have seen the desperate con¬
flicts that have stained the plains at our feet with blood ; about
that altar is now to take place a contest, in which a more im
portant question is to be settled than any these great battles
had ever decided. " How long," said Elijah, " halt ye between
two opinions ; if the Lord be God, serve him ; if Baal, serve
him." Now they stand face to face, four hundred and fifty of
the prophets of Baal; Elijah alone of all that was left of the
prophets of the Lord. " He whose God can answer by fire let
him be God." And all the people said, "It is well." And
now the prophets of Baal prepare their sacrifice, surround their
altar, and from morning until noon cry : "0 Baal, hear as ! "
324
THE HOLY LAND.
But there 13 no answer. Then the taunts and irony of the old
prophet only quicken their earnestness ; they leap upon the altar
and cut themselves with knives; but neither their much speak¬
ing or their loud speaking availed any thing. The time of the
evening sacrifice came, and their god was deaf to all their cries.
Then Elijah took twelve stones, a stone for a tribe, and re¬
paired the broken-down altar of God, laid the wood and the
sacrifice in order, and thaifall cavil might be silenced, and the
miracle undeniable, ordered the whole to be deluged with
twelve barrels of water. And now he stands beside the altar
and stretches his hands toward heaven. "With breathless
silence eight hundred and fifty idolatrous priests, Ahab and
his court, and the gathered thousands of Israel, await the
result. Elijah is no priest; will God hear his prayer? Carmel
is far away from the place God hath chosen to record his
name, and has never been sanctified with ark, tabernacle or
temple ; will Jehovah now vindicate his name and answer by
fire ? How often my imagination has pictured that breathless
multitude awaiting with intense interest the result of that one
intercession ! And now that I stand gazing upon the spot,
how vividly the whole scene rises up before me. "What an
awful moment was that to the prophet of God ! His own life,
the glory of God, the truth and purity of religion, a nation's
salvation, were all staked upon the result ! 0 Elijah, darest thou
now open thy lips ? "With calm and holy utterance the man of
God breaks the death-like silence. Lord God of Ahraham,
Isaac, and of Israel, let it be known this day that thou art God in
Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done^all these
things at thy word. Hear me, 0 Lord, hear me, that this people may
know that thou art the Lord God, and that thou hast turned their
heart hack again." And the breath of the Almighty kindled
the fire ; the wood, the sacrifice, the altar, and the water about
It were all consumed; while the overawed and trembling
multitudes fell upon their faces and cried out : The Lord he is
the God; the Lord he is the God!" Down this moun¬
tain side, where we are now standing, that same prophet
brought the priests of Baal, and this river Kishon was crim¬
soned with their blood! The name of God was vindicated.
KUINS OF TTRB.
Promontorv of Mount CarmeL
ELIJAH'S PRAYER.
327
Then followed that memorable season of intercession, when
the prophet ascended the mountain to a spot that overlooked
the sea, and cast himself upon the earth, and put his face be¬
tween his knees, and prayed for rain with a fervor and efiect
that led the apostle, near a thousand years afterwards, to quote
it as an evidence that the " effectual fervent prayer of a right
eous man availeth much." The drouth was broken. " Get
thee up, eat and drink," said Elijah to Ahab, " for there is a
sound of abundance of rain." From the base of the mountain
•at this place to Jezreel is about twelve miles, and thither Ahab
returned and " told Jezebel all that Elijah had done."
Our route lay along the base of Carmel toward the Mediter¬
ranean. The plain of Esdrselon terminates toward the lea in
the plain of Akka or Acre. A ridge of hills separates them,
and they connect by a narrow pass near the base of Carmel,
through which we passed, sometimes wading in the waters of
the Kishon. It is a very fertile plain, and here the tribe of
Asher once dwelt, enjoying the fulfillment of the promise ; he
" dipped his foot in oü ; " his " bread was fat, and he yielded
royal dainties."
About 8 o'clock we pitched our tents upon the white sandy
beach of the Mediterranean, just without the dilapidated walls
of the modern city of Haifa, supposed to occupy the site of
the ancient Greek city Sycaminuik, and close to the base of the
bold promontory of Carmel, its lofty summit crowned by the
towering walls of one of the finest convents in all Palestine.
The portion of our company that ascended Carmel, made their
way along the ridge, and did not get in till near 9 o'clock ;
they were nearly exhausted with fatigue, having been about
thirteen hours in the saddle.
OONVBNT or CARMEL.
April 24¿A. Our first business this morning was a visit to
the convent that crowns the bold promontory of Carmel. This
promontory, as here seen from the sea, is one of the boldest
and most imposing sights on all the coast. It rises abruptly,
almost perpendicularly, from the shore, to the bight of near
two thousand feet. Its form is that of a sharp, narrow ridge.
328
THE HOLY LAND.
descending abruptly on one side to the plain of Acre towards
our tents, on the other towards the plain of Sharon. The
convent, the monks claim, is built over a grotto in the rocks,
once th» dwelling place of the prophet Elijah, which from his
time onward has been occupied by a continual succession of
the faithful. This convent, like others of the laud, has had its
sad reverses. îiapoleon made it a hospital for his soldiers in
his siege of Acre ; and after he left it, it was plundered by the
Turks. In 1821 it whs blown up by Abdallah Pasha, and was
afterwards rebuilt by the indefatigable labors of one man, Jean
Battista. He gave himself unremittingly to the effort, begged
through Europe, Asia, and Africa, and at last saw the comple¬
tion ôf his labors, rejoicing in the fact that the Grotto of Elijah
was covered by the finest convent in all Palestine—erected at a
cost of half a million of francs !
The monks have contrived to grade a comfortable road up
the steep ascent, so that one can ascend to the summit on
horseback. "We were shown through the building, the princi¬
pal attraction of which is the Grotto, and the rich chapel that
now covers it, occupying the centre of the building. If Elijah
had any taste for the grand, sublime and beautiful, I do not
wonder that he selected the bold bights of Carmel for one of
his favorite resorts. The sublimity of its mountain bights ; the
tumultuous sea, whose wild, ängry waves foam around its base ;
the beautiful plains that stretch far away upon the right and
left, clothed in luxuriant foliage, to one who could look upward
unto God, would all conspire to fill the soul with devout and
lofty emotions. The Carmelite monks are noted for their hos¬
pitality, and the good cheer they furnish the weary traveler ;
and though it is all without charge, they expect a liberal back¬
sheesh, amply sufficient, to indemnify for all expense and
trouble. This putting a man upon his own nobility and sense
of honor, is often the most sure and direct method of emptying
his purse.
Hear the northern base of the hill is shown the cave, twenty
feet by eighteen, where it is said Elijah received the chiefs of
the people, known as the " Cave of the Sons of the Prophets."
Upon this mount there is also a field abounding in singular.
A SINGULAR STORY.
329
petrifactions resembling fruits. The story of their origi#,
though an old and oft-repeated one, is too good to be lost. , A
stingy, churlish Israelite, had here, in Elijah's time, a fine, pro¬
ductive orchard. The prophet, weary, hungry and t)ppres8ed_
with thirst, was passing by. "Allow me," said he, "to par¬
take of a little of your excellent fruit? " "Fruit, old fellow ? "
said the crabbed owner ; " you are quite mistaken, those are
nothing but stones." " Many a true word is spoken in jest,"
said the prophet, and on he went. "What was the astonish¬
ment of the parsimonious gardener to find his words verified ;
and to this day his stone fruit lies scattered over the grounds,
a perpetual monitor to every one who visits the place.
CITY OF ACRE.
Leaving our encampment at the base of Carmel, we now
turned our faces once more northward, for a tour along the
sea shore. "We have now visited the prominent places of inte¬
rest connected with Biblical events, and shall hasten with
greater rapidity to Beirut. "We forded the Kishon, or rather
waded around it by keeping upon the sand bar at its mouth,
some distance^n the sea. It was with difficulty we got through,
for we had almost to swim our horses. A delightful ride of
about ten miles, along the beautiful white sands of the shore,
brought us to St. Jean de Acre. Just before reaching this place
we forded a small stream—^the Belus of ancient geography. It
is said by Pliny it was on the banks of this stream the art of
making glass was first made known.
This city has an eventful history, reaching back more than
a thousand years before Christ. Having one of the best
harbors on the coast, and being, as Hapoleon called it, the key
Df Palestine, it has been one of Syria's great battle-fields.
Many a time it has been besieged, sacked and plundered, the
last being the bombardment by the British fleet under Ad¬
miral FTapier, in 1840, of which many portions of the city
still give evidence. The population and importance cff the
place have been dwindling, until it now contains only about
five thousand inhabitants, a mixture of Moslems, Druses,
Christians and Jews. The city still has a strong wall upon the
330
THE HOLT LAND
l^d side, and massive fortifications next the sea. Huge guns
were mounted upon the walls, and looking through the port¬
holes, and Turkish soldiers were loitering about them. We
■:)assed the ponderous'gateway, kept by armed sentinels, walked
through the bazars, and wandered about the streets. In this city
a large portion of the Crusaders landed, and here, as late as 1291,
was the seat of the order of the Knights of St. John, from
which the city has its name. But a few remnants of ancient
buildings can now be identified, among which are a small
chapel, once a part of the church of St. Andrew, the Hotel of
the Knights' Hospitalers, now the military hospital, and the old
church of St. John. The Pasha sent an oflicer to show us the
fortifications, and we were allowed to ascend the embankments.
Every thing has an old and dilapidated look, and the stamp
of negligence and decay is on all you see. We visited an old
mosque, once evidently a magnificent and costly building, but
now rapidly going to ruin. In the court of this mosque is
the tomb of El Jezzar, a tyrant renowned for his atrocity,
extreme cruelty to his subjects, and many terrible deeds of
blood, one of them, the cold blooded assassination, in a fit of
jealousy, of fifteen beautiful women of his harem! After our
visit to the city, we passed on three or four miles, and encamped
upon the plain near a beautiful and extensive orange grove, the
blossoms of which filled the air with their fragrance. Within
the grove was a beautiful residence of the governor of the
city, and near by the ruins of an ancient aqueduct, the lofty and
crumbling arches attesting its former magnificence. We passed
a comfortable night, unconscious, however, of the close proxim¬
ity of the dangerous tenants of the rocks among which we had
pitched our tents, for on rising in the morning our dragoman
found a scorpion in his bed, and one of my companions another
lu the leg of his pants.
April 25iÄ. We were early in our saddles, galloping over the
rich plain of Acre toward Tyre, where we expect to spend the
nightr. Palestine boasts no richer portions of country than the
plain of Acre. Cultivated, it produces the most luxuriant
crops ; neglected, it grows the rankest weeds, while now, over
many portions of it the wandering Bedawin roams. We wére
APPROACH TO TYRE.
831
BOW passing over the country and home of the ancient Phoe¬
nicians, "the Anglo Saxon's of antiquity.'* They were an
enterprising, commercial people, filling a large place in the
history of ancient civilization. They were early acquainted
with the art of navigation, and their ports were marts of im¬
mense trade for those early days. Fifteen hundred year«
before Christ, the Israelites settled in Palestine, and soon after,
their association with this ancient people commenced. The
influence thfey exerted upon each other in religion, civilization
and trade, must have been very great. Even in the times of
the Judges, " Great Zidon " and the Zidonians are mentioned as
familiarly known. When Solomon, 1000 B. C., built the temple,
Hiram, King of Tyre, was intimately associated with him.
These Phoenicians were no doubt familiar with the whole
coast of the Mediterranean sea, they traversed the Egean sea,
and are supposed to have formed settlements for trading and
«lining upon some of its islands. The Greeks learned and
sorrowed much from the Phoenicians. It is said they received
from them the art of writing, and many of their religious
notions.
LADDER OF TYRE.
An hour's ride brought us opposite Achzib, a town given to
Asher, but which that tribe were, ne ver able to conquer. Leb¬
anon pushes its long range down towards this plain, and soon,
along its sloping sides, we could see the numerous modern
villages and extensive olive groves. This spur of Lebanon
terminates in a bold promontory called the "Ladder of Tyre.'
Over this promontory a zig-zag road wound its way, and we
had some hard climbing among its rocky ranges. Tue "White
Cape," as it is called, was a majestic and frighttul lookipg
place. It is a white, chalky ridge, projecting from the moun¬
tain side to the sea. Over this promontory we had to climb,
our road sometimes nothing but steps cut or worn in the rock,
while often we could look down the frightful precipice ¿ipou
the dashing waves as they broke in white sheets of foam far
beneath our feet. Upon the summit of this difficult pass are
the ruins of an old stone structure, called " The Candle Tower."
332
THE HOLT LAND.
It. was built in ancient times for the defense of this road, ami
a handful of men stationed here could defend the way against
a numerous army.
The "Ladder" passed, we were again clattering along a
rough, stony plain. On this plain we passed some remarkable
fountains and reservoirs, known as the "Fountain Head."
They mark the site of old Palœtyrus, " Old Tyre." There are
four large fountains near together, the water gushing up with
great force from the bottom of artificial reservoirs. One of
these reservoirs is built in octagonal form, sixty-six feet in
diameter, and twenty-five feet high, the wall eight feet thick
upon the top, and the sides sloping at such gentle angle, one
can ride his horse to the summit. The stones are carefully
joined together, and finely cemented. The water from this
copious fountain is now used to turn a mill. These fountains
arc now embowered in beautiful groves of willow and fruit
trees, and surrounded by a luxuriant growth of vegetation.
The remains of old aqueducts may still be seen, by which these
waters were carried in different directions ; one of them runs
two miles to a mound, and some massive ruins of an old stone
structure. It is said there has long been a popular belief that
the waters of these remarkable fountains are brought from a
great distance by a subterranean canal, some ascribing the work
to Alexander the Great, some to Solomon. From this source
ancient Tyre was no doubt supplied with water.
TTBE.
We spent some time wandering about these wonderful wells
and cisterns, after which we had about an hour's ridé to reach
the city. From Acre to Tyre is eight and a half hours' ride.
Just at sunset we pitched our tents without the walls, and close by
the side of the gate leading into this renowned and ancient city !
It formerly stood upon an island ; afterwards a narrow bridge,
known as Alexander's causeway, led to this gate. The sands
have so filled in upon this side of the city, that what was once
an island, has been converted into a low, sandy peninsula, not
more than ten to fifteen feet above the sea, and connected to
the main land by a neck at least half a mile broad. The old
AN OLD CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 333
walls are in a wretched, dilapidated condition ; next the sea they
have mostly disappeared, and on the land side they have fallen
down in many places, and no attempts are made to repair them.
To one who has formed his opinion of these ancient Phœni-
cian seaports from the glowing description^f them in ancient
history, there is a feeling of sadness and disappointment as he
wanders about them. They are not what they once were. We
spent a couple of hours in the evening and a portion of the
morning in wandering about the place, and meditating among
the ruins. The modern town contains from three thousand to
four thousand inhabitants. The houses are some of them of
stone, and substantially built, but most of them are mere hov¬
els ; the streets are narrow, crooked and filthy ; the more sub¬
stantial buildings and the towers and walls have been shattered
by the earthquakes that, at difierent times, have rocked the
foundations of the place, while the ancient harbors have been
filled up with sand and rubbish. "We were particularly inter¬
ested in wandering along the sea, and marking the fragments
of huge stone structures, and the numerous massive columns
lhat lie scattered in the sea, and that have been worn and
washed through many long years by the dashing waves. Many
nations have left here the remnants of their ancient works.
I'hcenieians, Romans and Greeks, ancient and modern nations,
have here piled ruins upon ruins, and structure has perished
upon the top of structure, and now lie buried beneath each
other.
Among the more modern ruins, we were deeply interested in
the remains of a huge old church, but a little distance from
where our tents stood. Sufficient portions of the walls were
standing to indicate its former size, while from the remains of
one of its massive towers we could look down upon the numer¬
ous wretched cabins that the present inhabitants have con¬
structed within it. This church was built of stone, and was
two hundred and sixteen feet long and one hundred and thirty-
six feet broad. It is supposed to have been erected by Pauli¬
nus, Bishop of Tyre, in the beginning of the fourth century,
and for it Eusebius, the historian, wrote a consecration sermon,
still to be found in his Ecclesiastical History. He describe»
3S4 THE HOLT LAKD.
tnis church as the most splendid of all the temples of Phœnï •
cia. It added much to the interest with which we lingered
about these old moss-grown walls and towers, when told they
had often echoed to the eloquence of old Origen, and that be«
neath these ruins« his dust now molders, for here he waS'
entombed.
ITBS, PAST AKD PRESENT.
Seated upon the ruins of this old church, we may look about
us, and contemplate the past and present. What a place foi
reflection ! This city, upon the ruins of which we now gaze,
fills a large place in the early history of civilization. Tyre was
once the proud mistress of the Mediterranean. Here was
erected the first throne of empire that swayed its sceptre over
the sea. Poets sang of her greatness, and the prophets, under
the power of inspiration, pictured in vivid imagery her great¬
ness and glory. Take your Bible and read some of the graphic
descriptions from the pen of Ezekiel. " 0 Tyrus, thou that art
situate at the entry of the sea, which art a merchant of the
people for many isles. 0 Tyrus, thou hast said, I am of perfect
beauty. Thy borders are in the midst of the sea, thy builders
have perfected thy beauty. They have made all thy ship«
boards of fir trees of Senir ; they have taken cedars from Leb¬
anon to make masts for thee. Of the oaks of Bashan they
have made thine oars; the company of the Ashurites have
made thy benches of ivory, brought out of the isles of Chittim.
Fine linen, with broidered work from Egypt, was that which
thou spreadest forth to be thy sail ; blue and purple from the
isles of Elisha, was that which covered thee. The inhabitants
of Sidon and Arvad were thy mariners; thy wise men, 0 Ty¬
rus, that were in thee were thy pilots." Ezk. xxvii. Thus,
under the figure of a stately ship, this ancient mistress of the
sea is described, while all lands and nations bring their contri
butions to increase her strength, excellency and power. The
surrounding cities and nations are represented as her mer¬
chants, and all manner of products are laid at her feet. The
ships of Tarshish sang of her in her markets, and she was re¬
plenished and made glorious in the midst of the seas. But the
PEOPHECT FtJLFILLED.
pi'ösperity of Tyre laid the foundation of her ruin. In he?
wealth she became proud, her riches corrupted her, and God
was compelled to record sentence against her. "Thus saith
the Lord God : Because thine heart is lifted up, and thou hast
said, I am a god, I sit in the seat of God, in the midst of the
seas. By thy great wisdom, and by thy traffic, hast thou in¬
creased thy riches, and thine heart is lifted up because of thy
riches ; therefore, thus saith the Lord God, because thou hast
set thine heart as the heart of God, behold, therefore, I will
bring strangers upon thee, the terrible of the nations ; and they
shall draw their swords against the beauty of thy wisdom, and
they shall defile thy brightness. They shall bring thee down
to the pit, and thou shalt die the deaths of them that are slain
in the midst of the seas." " By the multitude of thy merchan¬
dise they have filled the midst of thee with violence, and thou
hast sinned ; therefore, I will cast thee as profane out of the
mountain of God ; and I will destroy thee, 0 covering cherub,
from the midst of the stones of fire. Thine heart was lifted
because of thy beauty, thou hast corrupted thy wisdom by rea¬
son of thy brightness ; I will cast thee to the ground, I will lay
thee before kings, that they may behold thee." Ezk. xxviii.
Standing here and meditating among these ruins, mark the
exact fulfillment of the sentence pronounced against this proud
city, as recorded by the prophets, while yet she was in the
zenith of her glory. " "Wherefore, thus saith the Lord God :
Behold, I am against thee, 0 Tyrus, and I cause many nations
to come up against thee, and they shall destroy the walls of
Tyrus and break down her towers." The kings of Assyria,
Babylon, and other nations of the East, have gathered their be¬
sieging hosts about the place, and terrible has been the work
of destruction wrought. It was said by the prophet : " They
shall lay thy atones, and thy timber, and thy dust in the midst of th
water." "When Alexander the Great besieged the city, the"
most terrible ruin was wrought. The city upon the main land
was soon captured and totally destroyed. The stones, timber
and rubbish were then conveyed by them to the sea, and
formed into a causeway, stretching from the mainland to the
island. Thus, in the fulfillment of the prophecy, by casting he^
336
THE HÓLr LAlíD.
stones, timber and dust into the sea, they made for themselves ad
highway over which they carried the siege to the island city,
and captured it by storm. " And they shall destroy the walls of
Tyrus and break down her towers." See how her walls are now
leveled with the ground, and her towers have been utterly
overthrown and demolished! "And I will scrape her dust from
her and make her like the top of a rock." Mark those ledges of
rocks along the sea, once covered with soil and ornamented
with costly palaces. Now the sculptured columns lie pros¬
trate ; the huge stones are scattered abroad ; the soil has been
washed away, and the driving storms send the sheeted foaui
dashing over their naked, barren tops! "It shall he a place for
the spreading of nets in the midst of the sea." Did you see, as we
passed along the shore, how the thoughtless fishermen had
spread their nets to dry upon the desolate places, where once
the proudest parts of the city stood? The reflecting traveler
looks upon these things with amazement, and is astonished at
the exact and literal fulfillment of these prophetic records 0
Tyre, the hand of the Almighty has been upon thee; judgment
was recorded against thee, and faithfully has the sentence been
executed. "The exaltation, the sin, and the punishment of
Tyre," says one, " have been recorded for us, in perhaps the
most touching words ever uttered by the prophets of Israel
against the cities of the stranger. But we read them as a love¬
ly song, and close our ears to the sternness of their warning;
for the very depth of the fall of Tyre has blinded us to its re¬
ality, and we forget, as we watch the bleaching of the rocks
between the sunshine and the sea, that they were once * as in
Eden, the garden of God.' " God's hand has been here, and
he has written for us lessons of instruction, that cannot hut ar¬
rest the attention of the most careless ; and the traveler, as h«
muses upon the spot, is admonished of the retributive justice
that has spoiled and humbled this once proud, boasting city
Well may we take up the lamentation the prophet prepared be¬
forehand for us, and utter it as we stand in the midst of these
ruins : " Thus saith the Lord God of Tyrus : Shall not the isles
shake at the sound of thy fall? Then all the princes of the sea
shall come down from their thrones, and lay away their robes»
TOMB OF HIRAM.
337
• ad put off their broidered garments ; they shall sit upon the
ground, and shall tremble "every moment, and shall be aston¬
ished at thee. And they shall take up ä lamentation for thee,
and say to thee ; How art thou destroyed, that wast inhabited of
sea-faring men, the renowned city, which wast strong in the
sea, she and her inhabitants, which cause their terror to be od
all that haunt it. Now shall the isles tremble in the day of thy
fall; yea, the isles that are in the sea shall be troubled at thy
departure. "When I shall make thee a desolate city like the
cities that are not inhabited." Ezk. xxvi.
We did not take time to visit "The Tomb of Hiram," which
may be seen upon a hill-side, six or seven miles east of the
town. It is spoken of as one of the most singular monuments
m the land—an immense sarcophagus of limestone, hewn out
of a single block, twelve feet long, eight feet wide, and six feet
high, and covered by a lid five feet in thickness, cut in pyra¬
midal form. Three layers of large hewn stones, the upper one
projecting a few inches, form a massive pedestal, on which this
gigantic coffin rests. A hole has been broken through one
end, by means of which it can be entered. Here, tradition
says, Hiram, King of Tyre, the friend and ally of Solomon,
found a resting place. It stands solitary and alone, far from
human habitation ; and the tomb, like the city over which its
renowned occupant reigned, bears the marks of neglect and
decay.
from tyre to 8id0n.
April 26th. At 8 o'clock we had finished our rambles about
the city. A large number of the lounging villagers gathered
about to watch our preparations for departure, among them
many of the Christian refugees, who had been driven from
their homes by the recent bloody massacres of the Druses.
From twelve to fifteen hundred of these were now quartered
here, fed at government expense. We took our departure, and
struck out across the plain of Phoenicia. A ride of a little
more than two hours brought us to the Leontes, the third river
in point of rank and size in Syria, the Jordan and the Orontes
only being superior to it. It has its source near the ruins of
838
THE HOLT LAND.
Baalbek, draining a portion of the Lebanon and AntilebanoL
mountains. This stream is about one-third as large as the
Jordan, and has a rapid current; over it a substantial stone
bridge has been erected, a convenience seldom found in this
,neglected country.
One hour's ride from this river, the traveler's attention it
called to a number of upright stones arranged in the form of e
circle. For what purpose these were erected no one can nov
tell, but the natives have a singular story connected with them
ÍTear by is a little whitewashed tomb dedicated to lieby Sur, &
celebrated prophet, but in what age he lived the tradition doer
not say. This was his residence, and some rude men passing
by made sport of him. As a punishment for their ill manners,
the prophet cursed them, as Elijah did the fruit on Mount Car¬
mel. The whole company of them were immediately turned
into stone, like Lot's wife, standing like monumental pillars;'
and here they have stood from that time till this^mute preach¬
ers, teaching lessons of reverence and respect for the aged and
the good.
ELIJAH AND THE WIDOW OF SAREPTA.
About noon we passed the ruins of an ancient town, the site
of Zarephathj spoken of in the liew Testament under its Greek
name, Sarepta. ' " Many widows were in Israel in the days of
Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six
months, when great famine was throughout all the land; but
unto none of them was Elijah sent, save unto Sarepta, a city
of Sidon, unto a woman that was a widow." Luke iv. 25, 26.
Here then we were upon the very spot of one of the most strik-
mg events in the wonderful history of Elijah the Tishbite. We
••have looked down into the deep, wild glen by the brook Cher-
ith, where the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morn¬
ing, and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank of the
water ot the brook. But the dearth grew more and more se¬
vere, and the brook dried up. Elijah, hunted by Ahab, who
sought to put him to death, was under the immediate protec¬
tion of the God he served. The Spirit led him to this place,
then a city of considerable note. As he approached the gate a
THE WIDOW OF SAREPTA. 889
" poor widow woman " was gathering a few sticks to prepare
herself a meal. The dearth was over all the country, and al¬
ready many a haggard look and sunken cheek told in unmis¬
takable language the horror of the famine that was consuming
the land. "Fetch me," said Elijah, "I pray thee, a little water,
that I may drink." "Water she could spare, and she lacked no
kindness of heart to accommodate. As she went "to fetch
it" Elijah called after her: "Bring me, I pray thee, a morsel
of bread in thine hand." What a request to make of one al¬
ready dying of famine ! She had a kind and obliging heart,
but how could she grant the request, even though the prophet,
like herself, was perishing with hunger? " As Jehovah thy God
liveth, I have not a cake, but an handful of meal in a barrel,
and a little oil in a cruse; and, behold, I am gathering two
sticks that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we
may eat it and die." Kind-hearted as she was, who could expect
her to share her last morsel with a stranger? But the prophet
had been more deeply instructed in the plans and purposes of
Jehovah than this famishing woman. "Fear not, go and do as
thou hast said; but make me therof a little cake first, and
bring it unto me, and after make for thee and thy son. Foi
thus saith the Lord God of Israel, the barrel of meal shall not
waste, neither shall the cruse of oil fail, until the day the Lord
sendeth rain upon Israel." 1 Kings xvii. What did that Gen¬
tile woman know of the God of Israel? Yet she ventured
upon the promise, and what a reward followed her faith and
liberality! The promise was fulfilled, and through the long,
weary days of that terrible famine, her meal and oil failed not ;
tlie prophet, herself and son all lived upon it, and constantly
as they drew from their scanty stock, by some strange, miracu¬
lous power, it was replenished again. May we not learn from
it the rewards both of faith and liberality? The self-sacrificing
man lives not on what he keeps, hut on what he gives. The very
eomforts he has given up, by some mysterious influence, seem
fledged with angel wings, and come gathering around him like
messengers of plenty and joy. We looked earnestly about, al¬
most fancying we could identify the spot where these strange
things transpired; but the houses had been tumbled into ruins,
340 THE HOLY LAND.
and a few fragments of marble and scattered heaps of stone
are all that remain. We dismounted and picked from an old
wall a bit of white marble, as the only memento of the place
we could find to bear away with us ; but we left with the story
of the widow's faith, and the power of Elijah's God, more deep¬
ly than ever imprinted upon the mind.
The Plain of Phœnicia, over which we are now riding, ex¬
tends from south of Tyre to several miles beyond Sidon. Its
total length is about thirty miles, its average breadth not more
than one mile. Near Tyre and Sidon the mountains are shoved
back farther from the sea, giving a breadth of about two miles
to the plain. This plain has a rich, undulating soil, and is
every where well watered. Nature has done much to make it
productive and delightful, man has done more to make it un¬
fruitful and desolate. Its villages have been destroyed, its in¬
habitants driven back among the mountains, life and property
made insecure.* Large portions of its fertile soil lie waste and
uncultivated, while the wild Bedawin pitches his tent here and
pastures his flocks, or goes roaming over it at will.
SIDONT, OB SAIDA.
The approach to Sidon was one of the most pleasant rides
we had enjoyed in all this land. The city can be seen from
twelve to fifteen miles. In some places the remains of the old
Roman road are visible, while fragments of broken columns
and great hewn stones are scattered along the way. Occasion-
ly you pass the flowery banks of some winding stream fringed
with the oleander, and decked with bright and beautiful flow¬
ers. Strange as it may seem, we passed several of the old mile¬
stones that have stood here by the road-side since the days of the
'Roman occupation. One of them, ms\rred and scarred by time,
still bears in legible letters the name of Septimius Severus, and
his son Aurelius Antoninus. It is supposed to date back sa
early as A. D. 108.
As we approached the city, it seemed to be embowered in
beautiful groves, orchards and gardens. For more than an
hour, wfe were riding directly upon the smooth sandy beach of
the sea, the white-crested waves breaking over our horses' ieet
BIDON. AS SEEN FROM THE SEA SHORE.
TOMB OF JONAH.—Bee pi«e 346.
THE CITY or SIDON. 843
f-
Tbe houses of the city appearéd to be better built than iu any
city we bad yet visited. Many of them were stuccoed and
whitewashed, giving them a very neat and tasty appearance.
The distances of our day's ride, measured by the hour, are about
as follows : From Tyre to the river Leoutes, one hour and forty-
five minutes; Leontes to Sarepta, three hours; Sarepta to Sidon,
three hours and fifteen minutes ; thus making a total from Tyre
to Sidon of about èight hours, or from twenty-five to thirty
miles. "We arrived in good time, and soon had our tents ar¬
ranged in the midst of a beautiful grove just without the walls
of the city.
Sidon was the mother of Tyre, and for a long time they
shared the honors of the mistress of the sea. It is the oldest
city of Phœnicia, and one of the oldest in the world. Jose-
phus says it was founded by Sidon, eldest son of Canaan, and
great grandson of Nbah. It has a history cotemporary with
Gaza, Sodom an^Gomorrah. When the Israelites conquered
Canaan it was a great and powerful city. Homer mentions it
in connection with the Trojan war. Like its daughter Tyre, it
was for a long series of years a powerful and opulent commer¬
cial city. It is now but the remnant of what it once Was ; its
harbors have gone to ruin, its commerce has perished, and.
scarce a vessel makes even a passing call. The population is
probably about ten thousand, full half of whom are Moham¬
medans; the other half mostly Jews, Greek, Catholic, and Mar¬
onite Christians. Silk is extensively manufactured here, and
large quantities of fruit are cultivated. The plain about the
city is covered with gardens and orchards of oranges, lemons,
figs, pomegranates, bananas, apricots and kindred fruits.
This city fell to the lot of Asher, but, like Tyre, it was too
powerful for the Israelites, and they were never able to subdue
it. It is but little known in New Testament history, and it is
but once mentioned of the Savior that he visited the coasts of
Tyre and Sidon. Like Tyre, it was the subject of prophetic
prediction, and like that city, shared in the retributions that
follow pride, luxury and arrogance. " Son of man, set thy face
against Sidon and prophecy against it, and say: Thus saith
the Lord God : Behold, I am against thee, O Sidon ; and I
314
IHE HOLY LAND.
will be gloriáávl lu the midst of thee, and they shall know that
1 am the Lord when I shall have executed judgments in her."
Ezk. xxviii. 24. The prophecies have been fulfilled. The
changes of time have destroyed her commerce, invading armies
blocked up her ports, battered down her walls, and destroyed
her palaces. She who was once great, is now as a " cleft m the
rock;" dismantled and solitary, she sits in loneliness and deso¬
lation, her beauty and glory faded forever.
The buried ruinrf" about Sidon will yet prove a rich mine to
the antiquarian. In. a neighboring hill-side are many tombs,
some of which have been explored. A beautifully wrought
sarcophagus was found here only a few years ago, containing
a perfect Phœnician inscription of twenty-two lines. The lines
told the stor}'' of its occupant, revealing the fact that he was
once a king of Sidon ! This ancient sarcophagus is now pre¬
served in the museum of the Louvre at Paris. A short time
previous to the discovery of this, in another place, a large
quantity of gold coins, of the reign of Alexander the Q-reat,
and of Philip of Macedón, were discovered. But Sidon, Thomp¬
son thinks, is too old to furnish many valuable antiquities. Her
decline, he says, commenced " before antiquity began."
SIDON TO BEIRUT.
April 27íA. "We left Sidon this morning in good spirits, for
to-day our tent life in Syria terminates ; to-night we expect to
sleep in a hotel in Beirut, nine hours distant. The road, as one
says, is bleak, bad and uninteresting—now plunging through
barren, drifting sand, and now winding over low promontories,
covered with multitudes of loose stones and sharp rocks. "We
now bade farewell to the Plain of Phoenicia, and the southern-
,most range of the Lebanon mountains came down upon the
sea. The sight of these mountains awakened remembrance of
Solomon and the cedars. Lebanon signifies white^ and the dis¬
tant tops of these mountains, covered with perpetual snow, lie
glistening in the sunlight. It was these sublime and towering
bights, the extensive groves of enormous cedars upon their
sííles, the olive plantations and vineyards, the running streams
and fruitful vales of their base, that made up the " glory of
CEDAKS OP LEBANON.
345
Lebanon " alluded to in the word of God. These renowned
cedar groves, from which Hiram sent to Solomon timber for his
temple, have mostly disappeared; hut one solitary grove of
them n.ow remains. These are usually visited from Beirut, hut,
the snows upon the mountains when we were there prevented
approach to them. This grove of cedars lies six thousand fee*
above the level of the sea, and twenty-four hundred feet below
the summit.of the mountains. The grove covers about three
acres ; some of the trees are of enormous size ; one is said to be
forty feet in circumference. They are the patriarchs of ancient
days, and have witnessed the changes of many hundreds of
fears.
iiady stanhope's home.
As we passed on, a few miles to the right of us, among these
mountain ranges, may still be seen the ruins of the home of
Lady Hester Stanhope. I remember the interest with which 1
read Lamartine's narrative of his visit here in 1832. It was,
certainly, a strange freak of humor that led this lady of intel¬
lect, rank, wealth and beauty to banish herself from her native
land, and choose a home amid these solitudes of Lebanon!
There was a charm of romance about it, and for a time, the
novelty of the situation and mode of life might have had many
attractions. But when I read Thompson's account of her
death and burial, the gilding all seemed to fall from the pic¬
ture, and the loneliness and desolation of the scene were truly
gloomy and distressing. She, who had shone in the highest
circles of English society, who had rejected the proffered crown
of Palmyra, outlived her beauty, wealth and power. The fol
lowing account of the funeral is from Thompson's "Land and
Book :"
" The British consul at Beirut requested me to perform the
religioufc services at the funeral of Lady Hester. It was an in '
tensely hot Sabbath in June, 1839. We started on our melau
oholy errand at 1 o'clock, and reached this place about mid¬
night. After a brief examination, the consul decided that the
funeral must take place immediately. This vault in the gar¬
den was hastily opened, and the bones of General L , or of
S46
THE HOLY LAND,
his son, I forget which—a Frenchman who died here, and was
buried in the vault by her ladyship—were taken ont and placed
at the head.
The body, in a plain deal box, was carried by her servants
to the grave, followed by a mixed company, with torches and
lanterns, to enable them to thread their way through the wind¬
ing alleys of the garden. I took a wrong path, and wandered
some time in the mazes of these labyrinths. When at length
I entered the arbor, the first thing I saw were the bones of the
general, in a ghastly heap, with the head on top, having a
lighted taper stuck in either eye-socket—a hideous, grinning
spectacle. It was diflicult to proceed with the service under
circumstances so . novel and bewildering. The consul subse¬
quently remarked that there were some curious coincidences
between this and the burial of Sir John Moore, her ladyship's
early love. In silence, on the lone mountain at midnight, 'our
lanterns dimly burning,' with the flag of her country over her,
'she lay like a warrior taking his rest,' and we left her ^alone
in her glory.' "
The place is now described as a sad scene of desolation. Her
house has been torn down and the materials sold to the sur¬
rounding people, while the stones of her tomb have been
broken in and displaced.
TOMB OV JONAH.
A ride of about three hours from Sidon brought us to a place
called Heby Yunas, or Prophet Jonah.' Thet place is situated
directly upon the 'sea-shore, in a little sandy bay near a thick
mulberr}' grove. There is here a large old khan, mostly in
ruins, but one or two of the rooms are now occupied by
the Turks as a kind of coffee restaurant. A little distance
from it is a large whitewashed monument or tomb, built in
Moslem style, called the Tomb of Jonah. It has the usual dome-
top of the Moslem graves, and several rooms attached for the
accommodation of the keeper, and such pilgrims as choose to
visit it. This, the inhabitants here will tell you, is the veritable
place where Jonah was thrown up by the whale in his strange
sea voyage, when he attempted to run away from the command
TURKISH COFFEE.
347
of his Lord! The supposed*place of his embarkation was
Joppa, and many believe that Tarsus, the birth-place of Saul,
was the Tarshish to which he was attempting to flee. If so,
this place was certainly upon his route, and the whale would
be as likely to cast him up here as at any other place. But
whether Jonah was ever here or not, this monument is conse¬
crated to his memory, and is quite a place of resort for Moslen:
pilgrims, who come here to perform their religious V^ows.
If you would like a cup of Turkish cofiee, you can be ac¬
commodated at the khan close by, while our horses are taking
a little rest. I could never tolerate the black cotfee of the
Turks. It is served out in very small cups, so thick, black and
strong that one of these small cups contains as much strength
as two or three of our large cups. It is taken without milk,
but with as much sugar as it will dissolve. There seems to
have been no change in the mode of making or taking it since
Lord Bacon wrote his quaint description of it, more than two
hundred years ago : " They have in Turhfiy a drink called coffee^
made of a berry of the same name, as black as soot, and of a
strong sent [scent], but not aromatical, which they take, beaten
Into powder, in water as hot as they can drink it. And they
take it and sit at it in their coflee-houses, which are like our
taverns. This Drink comforteth the Brain and Heart and help-
eth digestion."
Proceeding onward from the Tomb of Jonah, we passed a
high point of land or promontory where the mountain range
projects into the sea. "We clambered over rocks, and along
precipitous paths, where it was sometimes extremely difllcult
for our horses to make their way. This rough ánd narrow pass
baa been the theatre of blopdy conflicts. Here, about 218 B.
C., the Egyptians under Ptolemy made a stand and arranged
their forces for the defense of the pass. Antiochus the Great
advanced from Beirut, attacked the enemy on both flanks, and
drove them back with great slaughter to Sidon.
We now passed a fertile portion of the country; villages dot
tbe mountain-side, and numerous groves of mulberry and olive
adorn the landscape. As we looked off upon the distant hills,
we »-emembered how, only a few months ago, many of these
348
THE HOLT LAND.
villages were deluged with blood in the cruel, cold-bloodel
murder of their Christian population by the Druses. Many
towns were destroyed, thousands of Christians killed, and mul¬
titudes of others forced to flee for thpir lives. The American
consul at Beirut informed me that his wife, as she looked out
upon the mountain ranges, counted twenty villages burning at
one time, while the terrified inhabitants were fleeing in every
direction. Many thousands of these Christians, thus rendered
homeless, and reduced to great extremities, are even now fed
at the expense of the government, or by donations from Europe
and America.
Khan Khulda, about three hours before reaching Beirut, is
noted for a number of old sarcophagi lying neglected upon the
hill-side. They bear no inscriptions of any kind, but are sup¬
posed to be of Phoenician origin. They are from five to seven
feet long, cut from limestone rocks, each now having its lid re¬
moved and thrown to one side. They are now all empty.
Who have been their occupants none can tell. Kot a bone or
vestige of their tenants remain ; no voice comes up from their
rifled chambers to inform us when they were hewn, or who
found a resting place within their now solitary chambers.
At last a long blue line of water indicated that we were ap¬
proaching the sea. As we neared the city, we passed for a*
long distance over a yellow, sandy soil, almost entirely destitute
of vegetation, whdre the loose sands are driven by the winds,
and piled in heaps like snow. The scenery was varied and
beautiful; the distant mountains rising up in bold and solemn
grandeur, dotted with villages, forming one of its most promi¬
nent features. Kow we passed a large pine grove; then we
were passing through groves of olive, mulberry, and gardens
hedged by rows of enormous cactus, or prickly pear. This is
planted upon low stone walls, and grows with gigantic
strength to the hight of fifteen or twenty feet. The trunks are
sometimes two and a half feet in circumference, with great
thick leaves twenty inches long, covered with hard, sharp
thorns. And now from the tall bights back of the town we
looked down upon the city, stretching down the hill-side to¬
wards the sea, and deeply embowered in groves of mulberry
BEIKUT.
HDd fruit trees. "We wound down the declivity, along shaded
roads and among substantial European-looking houses, to the
sea-shore, and stopped at a public house in the outskirts of tlie
town; called "Hotel de Helle Vue." There is another directly
in the business part of the town called by the same name. The
charges at these hotels are about two dollars a day. Our jour¬
ney in Syria was ended, and it was with grateful hearts we
bad© adieu to tents, dragoman and muleteers, and took lodg¬
ings in a hotel, from whence we expect to take a steamer on
our homeward passage.
Beirut probably contains at least fifty thousand inhabitants,
of whom about one-third are Mohammedans. There are usu¬
ally many strangers in the city, drawn here for commerce and
travel. Many Europeans are settled here, and many European
houses adorn the town, and European costumes meet the eye.
A large body of French soldiers are now stationed here, the
avowed object being the protection of the Christians of the
surrounding country from the hostility of the Druses. It is a
place of considerable commerce, and large quantities of raw
silk are among its exports. • The city stands upon a kind of
promontory, and is most beautifully situated. The old portion
of it is densely built, close upon the sea-shore, the streets nar¬
row; crooked, and badly paved. The houses are mostly of
stone, substantially built, and have a neat and comfortable ap¬
pearance. There are many beautiful villas in the suburbs, em¬
bowered in groves of mulberry; in fact, the whole country
about, as one says, is rapidly "becoming one vast mulberiy
plantation." As you ascend to the upper parts of the town the
view becomes magnificent, embracing the Bay of St. George,
tlie distant expanse of the biné open sea stretching away in the
distance till it blends with the horizon ; the hights of Lebanon,
rising tier above tier, until, in the far distance, their heads are
pinnacled in the clouds, and their "snowy scalps" glisten in
the sunlight. I have seldom looked upon a more extensive,
sublime and enchanting landscape than meets the view from
the hights of the town back of Beirut.
Sunday, April 2%th. "With joy we hailed the light of the re¬
turning Sabbath, for we anticipate a pleasant season of Chris-
850
THE HOLY LAND.
tian worship with the American missionaries stationed here
We had been provided with letters of introduction both to
them and Mr. Johnson, the American consul. We were cor¬
dially received by theni, and would here express our thanks
for favors received, and especially to the consul for his assist¬
ance in the business matters we had- to attend to in the city.
Half-past 10 o'clock found us at the mission chapel, to
unite with the missionaries in their accustomed worship. We
made the acquaintance of teveral of their number, among them
Mr. W. M. Thompson, author of " The Land and the Book,"
who, for more than twenty years, has lived and labored in these
Bible lands, and become familiar with every portion of the
country. The mission premises occupy a beautiful situation,
and the chapel is laxge, airy and pleasant. One of our travel¬
ing companions was invited to preach, and it was a delightful
privilege to sit down once more in the house of God, and bear
a part in the devout services. Quite a large printing establish¬
ment is connected with the mission, which we visited the next
day. The schools of these missionaries here have done much
in cultivating a taste for literature, as well as a love for reli¬
gion ; indeed, the mission has been a prosperous one, and has
exerted an extensive influence on the surrounding country, and
many out-stations have been formed among the villages of the
mountains.
Just before leaving home I received a communication from a
lady acquaintance: "I have a dear brother buried at Beirut;
the missionaries can tell you j where. I want you to flnd the
place, stand by the side of the grave, and, if possible, bring me
a flower, or a leaf, or even a spire of grass from the tomb, that
I may preserve it as a memento of one I so dearly loved." It
was a reasonable request, and I was sure it was prompted by
the earnest affection of a bereft sister's heart. After service I
asked l)r. Van Dyck to accompany me to the grave. He led
me to a secluded portion of the mission premises, to a pleasant
and attractive spot, secured -by a strong cactus hedge and deep¬
ly shaded by the overhanging trees. Here several members of
the mission and converts to the Christian faith had found a
quiet resting place. I stood by one of the monuments, and
CONCLUSION.
351
read upon the sculptured marble the name of George B.
Whiting, long a devoted and successful missionary of the cross,
both at Jerusalem and in this city. I thought of the fond
afiection of the bereft sister, Who would covet a ppire of grasé
from the hallowed spot, tind gathering a few flowers, laid them
in my memorandum book in compliance with her tendei
request.
The Sabbath was over, and we immediately set about mak¬
ing arrangements for our departure homewards. . "We found in
the port an American vessel, loading with wool, which was to
Sail direct for Boston. We packed a box with the various ar¬
ticles of interest and curiosity we had gathered in our journeys
and shipped them for our native land. We then engaged á
passage on the French steamer Samois for Smyrna; second
cabin passage, thirty-two dollars-—^flrst cabin, about sixty dol¬
lars—time, six days—stopping at Tripolis, Ladikiyeh, (Laodicea)
Rhodes, and other ports. The journey homeward, after reach¬
ing Smyrna, where we visited the Tomb of Polycarp, was to
Athens, thence to Rome, through southern Italy ; over the Ap¬
penines to northern Italy ; over the Alps, by the St. Gothard
pass; through Germany, and down the Rhine to Cologne;
thence to Brussels, Paris, London, Edinburgh, the Highlands,
Glasgow, Liverpool, Boston, and again to the great Valley of
the West.
It was th~. design of the writer, when this volume was com¬
menced, to include in it an account of the most interesting in¬
cidents of this European tour, but the book has already been
protracted beyond the intended limits, and here at Beirut I must
give the reader the parting hand. We have had a long and in¬
teresting journey—I trust not an unprofitable one. We have
traveled over the ground that has witnessed the events of the
world's early history ; stood on the hoary ruins of palaces ayl
temples, and looked, as it were, into God's treasure-house of
knowledge. We have seen Egypt, wandered in that "great
and terrible desert," climbed the sublime and venerated bights
of Sinai and Horeb. We have made the tour of "The Holy
Land"—the land of God's revelations, mysteries and miracles—
where angels have found pathways, and have descended and
852
THE HOLY LAND.
ascended on missions of mercy and judgment. We have Un-
gered about the "Holy City," and walked in the paths conse¬
crated by the feet of the glorious Son of God. We have
marked the changes time and the judgments of Heaven have
wrought—^how prophetic declarations have been fulfilled—^have
read upon a thousand tablets the Handwbíting op God!
Our time together has passed pleasantly; we part, I trust,
mutual friends. We are still travelers and sojourners; God
grant we may meet again—not on mountains like these earthly
ones, lying in the dim shadows of glory depi^ed, but on the
radiant Mount of God—n(^ to traversé the highways of the
earthly Canaan, but to roam those blissful lands of which this
earthly Canaan was but the type—not in Jerusalem on earth,
but in the glorious city of peace and rest, eternal in the heav¬
ens, In hope of the joys of that "better land," we say,
FABEWELL.
INDEX.
THE HOLY LAND.
PASE.
Äbnftp and Joab.. 179
Abraham's Altar 275
Oak 204
Absalom, tomb of. 93
Aceldama, field of bloo£ 71
Acquaintance, an interesting 155
Acquaintances in traveling 16
Alexandria to Jaffa 11
Sunday-school in 10
Aqueduct, ancient 125
Arab horsemanship 229
Hostility 271
Baptism of Jesus 238
Pilgrims 239
Beirut 349
Beit Dejan 25
Bethel, site of ancient 265
Beth Dagon 25
Bethesda, pool of 125
Bethsaida 314
Bethany, excursion to 138
Bethlehem, excursion to 186
A view of. 187
The House of Bread.... 189
View of convent 192
A morning in 215
Bible, Samaritan 156
Bridge, ruins of. 62
Oaiphas, palace of. 66
Capernaum 314
Carmel and Elijah 323
Promontory of. 326
Convent of. 327
Visit to 328
Castle of David 46
Cave of Machpelah 209
Cedars of Lebanon 345
Chapel of the Cross 114
Helena 116
The Virgin 127
Cherith, brook of 221
Chorazin 314
Doom of. 317
Ghirch of the Holy SepulcLre 110, 111
Interior of 112
?aoK
Church of the Nativity 190
An old Christian 333
City of Acre 329
Cock that crew 67
Cœnaculum 63
Conclusion 351
Convent of Nativity, view of. 192
Visit to the Superior 259
Corruption, Mount of 73
Crucifixion, place of 109, 118
Custom-houses 15
David's "Well 196
David, Castle of. 46
Sepulchre of. 64
Dead Sea, ride to 241
Its peculiarities 242
"When and how formed. 243
Bath in 247
Beturn from 252
Directions for traveling 13
Discovery of an aqueduct 125
Distances in Jerusalem 146
Easter morning 153
Ebal and Gerizim 278
Egypt, departure from 9
Farewell to , 12
El-Jib or Gibeon 178
Elijah and the Widow of Sarepta... 338
Bavens 218
Elisha at the Jordan 237
Elijah's sacrifice 322
Prayer 327
Eschol, Valley of. 203
Excursion to Bethany 138
About Jerusalem....175, 180
To Bethlehem and He¬
bron 186, 201
To Jordan and the Dead
Sea. 216
Fast of Bamedan... 106
Field of Blood 71
Flocks and their Shepherd 106
Fountain of Hezekiah 69
The Virgin 78, 81
854
INDEX.
PAOS.
Fulfillmont of Prophecy 60, 76
Galilee, Sea of. 309
Sunday at 312
Garden of Gethsemane 129
The inclosed 130
Solomon 213
Gerizim, yiew of 278
Ascent to 279
To Nazareth 291
Gibeon, visit to 179
Gibeah of Saul 185
Gideon's Victory 300
Gihon, Pool of 58
Gilboa, Mountains of. 296
Gilgal of Joshua 230
Events at 231
Good Priday in Jerusalem 145
Evening....^ 152
Grapes of Eschol 203
Grotto of Jeremiah 96
The Agony 120
Hebron, excursion to 186, 201
Cut of. 206
History of. 207
Hezekjah, Pountain of. 59
Hight of Mountains, Jerusalem 86
Hill of Evil Council 69
Hinnom, Valley of. 68
Holy City, journey to 27
Sepulchre 120, 121
Hostility of Arabs 271
House of Simon, the Tanner 20
Bread 189
Israel at the Promised Land 234
Jacob's Well 283
Jaffa, landing at 18
Gate 57
Jeba, the Geba of Benjamin 182
Jehoshaphat, Valley of. 88
Jeremiah, Grotto of 96
Jerichoes...., i 222
Jericho of Joshua 223
Be-built 223
Of the New Testament 225
Encamj>ment at..., 228
Jerusalem, depáj^ture for. 22
View of. 32
Our home in 34
Glance at the city 35
As a battle-field.. 36
Its decline 38
The great captivity 39
The Grecian invasion... 39
The Boman occupation. 40
Massacre under Titus.... 41
Be-built 42
Mohammedan conquwt. 43
Walks abou| the cityT... 44
Plan of. 48
Fi«a.
Jerusalem, Christian quarters at.. .. 4S
Jewish quarters at 51
Mohammedan quarters
at 62
Bambles in. 56, 89
Excavations beneath 101
Sabbath in 108
Prom the Mt. of Olives.. 142
Good Priday in 145
Poot excursions 175, 180
Arrangements to leave.. 257
Last morning in 259
Leaving 261
Parewell to 263
Jesus, baptism of ... 238
Jews' place of wailing 148, 150
Jezebel, death of. 299
Jezreel, ruins of. 298
Joab, Wellof 72
And Abner 179
Jonathan and his armor-bearer 183
Joppa, its history 20
Jordan and the Dead Sea 216
Visit to 231
Plain of 233
Bath in 233
Pord of 235
Elijah and Elisha at 237
Joshua, Gilgal of. 230
Joseph's Tomb 285
House of 303
Eidron, waters of. 90
Eiijath-Jearim 29
Lady Stanhope's home.. 345
Legends 113
Lepers, huts of 61
Of Shechem. 288
Literary Institution, the first 224
Lodging in Tombs 193
Lydda, or Ludd 24
Machpelah, Cave of. 20$
Manuscript, an old 286
Mizpeh, Ûie ancient 176
Mohammedan conquest 43
Mosque of Omar..., 164, 165
Mountains, hight of. 86
Mount Carmel. 321
Of Corruption 73
Moriah..... 159
Tabor 305
Nabulous, or old Shechem 274
Nativity, Convent and Church of... 190
Grotto of. 7.. 193
Nazareth, City of. 302
And Carmel 320
To Beirut 321
Nob, and Massacre of the Priests... 263
Olive Trees, view of. 289
INDEX.
855
mat.
c'livet, afcent of. 134
Omar, Mosque of. 164, 165
Palace of Caiphas 66
Palestine, Map of 8
Palm Sunday 108
Passports 16
Passover, a Jewish 143
Pentateuch, Samaritan 156, "86
Pilgrims, Baptism of. 239
Pillar of Salt 245
Place of blessing and cursing. 282
The Crucifixion 109, 118
Wailing 148, 150
Pollution 75
Pool of Gihon 58
Siloam 77
Bethesda. 125
Pools of Solomon 198, 201
Phophecy, Fulfillment of.....60, 76, 335
Prophets, Tombs of. 94
Rachel, Tomb of. 188
Ramah of Benjamin 184
Ramedan, Fast of. 106
Ramleh 23, 26
Rephaim, Plain of. 187
Reservoirs and Wells 171
Robber's Glen 28
Pountain 269
Ruins of a Bridge 62
Sakhrah, Sacred Rock 166
Samaria, the ancient city 292
Samaritans 276
Samaritan Bible 156, 286
Story of Manu¬
script 156
Age of 158
Samuel, home of. 175
Saul, Gibeah of 185
Death of. 297
Sepulchre of David 64
Christ 120, 121
Sepulchres and Tombs 70
Sharon, Plain of. 23
Rose of 24
Shechem, Lepers in 288
Shepherd and his flock 105
Shiloh, visit to 270
Tabernacle at 272
Incidents at 273
Sidor or Saida 340
Cut of. 342
City of. 343
To Beirut 344
Siloam, Pool of. 77
Simon the Tanner. 20
Sodom, apples of...«.!.................... 255 I
PAO*.
Sodom, Sea of. 251
Solomon's gardens.. 213
Pools 198, 201
Sorrowful Way 146
Sunday-school, Alexandria 10
Sparrows 55
Stephen, place where stoned 127
Street in Jerusalem 131
Superstitions 113
Superior of Franciscan convent 259
Supposed robber 256
Temple Area, lights in 170
And Sacred Rock 161
Of Mount Moriah 159
The Cœnaculum 63
Tiberias, City of. 308
Old 311
Titus, Massacre under 41
Tomb of Absalom 93
* Hiram 337
Jonah 346
Joseph 285
Jehoshaphat 92
Rachel 188
St. James 92
The Virgin Mary 127
Zechariah 92
Tombs and Sepulchres 70
Of the Prophets 94
Of Kings 98
Visits to 97
Lodging in 193
Tophet 74
Traveling, directions for 13
Turkish Cofiee 347
Tyre, approa^ to 331
City of 332
Ladder of. 331
Fast and present... 334
To Sidon 337
«
Valley of Eschol 203
Hinnom 68
Jehoshaphat 88
Via Dolorosa 146
Virgin, Fountain of 78, 81
Tomb and chapel of. 127
Waters of Kidron.. 90
WellofJoab 72
David 196
Jacob » 283
,.The Magi 187
Wells and Reservoirs 171
Worship, a season of. 313
Zion, first sight of 30
Faroes iu the country supplied with ady' article wanted
IROM
GreatWestern Publishing h'ouse
J. WrG-oodspeed 6l Co.
Chicago, New York it Mcniphi'^, Tcmi.,
' Agents' Headquarters for
POPULAE BOOKS, MAPS, CHAETS, PIOTÜEES,
V. FRAMES and ALBUAfS.
We furnieh'any book puWished in America.
AlitbiNTS WAiN'TKU In every coniinunit y, lo wln»iii loiihttinl nuil
profitable i'iii])loyiiieiit citn be Kiveii. Sciiil for circíihir-».
All inquiries with Stump, c)ie<'rfully aiiswereil.
Use Groodspeed's Golden and Silvered Pens.