Wady Untaghah — Wady-el-Arish — Wady-el-Aujanah — Nakhl — Wady Hufjah — The Serab — Wady Fahadah — Wady Kharaiah — Wady Scherif
Wady Untaghah, Saturday, Feb. 2. — Walked out before dawn to enjoy the moon and morning-star. Noticed again that though the east hghtens first, it is the west that takes on the purj)le radiance from the unrisen sun. Started at half-past eight, our road lying over dreary brown flats, with hollows, or rather pits, every two or three hundred yards. Truly this is” the land of deserts and of pits, a land of drought and of the shadow of death, a land that no man passeth through (that is, no thoroughfare), and where no man dwells’’ (that is, where there is no city to dwell in), (Jer. ii. 6).
The extensive chalk-looking range of M-Ijmeh (or Ajmah) stretches before us like the cliffs of Dover; but the blue sea is awanting. The whole region is dreary, and with no magnificence of chff to redeem the desolation. All along the way we see the same broken hollows and pits, some deeper, some shallower, — the same unsightly mounds and emaciated rocks, — shattered, splintered, scaled, confused, — in composition more like baked earth or sun-dried clay.
We soon, however, passed into Wady-el-Arish, which is perhaps the Tioblest wady of the desert, if both its breadth and its extent of course are taken into reckoning. Wady-esh-Sheikh is undoubtedly prince of the southern wadys of the peninsula, and El-Arish as tndy prince of the northern ones. Commencing at the Et-Tih range it pursues a circuitous but unbroken course through the desert to the Mediterranean Sea. It is fit to be the boundary of kingdoms, and probably was meant to be so, for may it not be to this that reference is made in God’s promise to Abraham, when the whole land is given to Israel from “the river of Egypt to the Euphrates” (Gen. xv. 18). This “river of Egypt” cannot be the Nile, — because that is always called Johr, not Nahar, and because the boundary given by Joshua (xv. 47) seems to refer to a river not far from Gaza, — and because no inert of igypt was ever made over to Abraham. Egypt and the land of promise are two distinct places, which they would certainly not be, were it the Nile that was meant. Bring down Israel’s border to the Nile and you rob Egypt of her richest Land, whereas it was the land of the Philistines, lying north-cast of Egypt, that was to be merged in Palestine, which would be the ca.se if the river poured into Wady-el-Ari.sh be tin; .suuthcrn boundary. In this case too all that part of the desert would be included which the
264! THE desert’s future statk
patriarchs occupied south of Beerslieba. In that region they sat down as if by right, though in one sense strangers; whereas in Egypt they took up their abode merely for a season, and strictly as strangers, having no right at all to the land. In this way their long sojourning in these southern regions would be better accounted for. It was their own land, — given them by God as part of the land of promise. And ,it is yet to revert to their children in the latter day, when the original boundaries of the land are to be resumed in fulfilment of many a promise made of old.
“The king in his beauty thine eyes shall sec, They shall see the land far extended.” — (Isa. xxxiii. 17.)
When the wilderness receives the promised rain in the latter day, what a noble liver this will form! Indeed the whole desert seems to stand waiting, with its hundreds of wadys, for the fulfilment of the prophetic blessing, — “in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert “(Isa. xxxv. 6). And it seems no “incredible thing” that God,^ — the same God who made Eden out of chaos, — should make the desert to become as the garden of the Lord. It seems no ‘’ incredible thing “that He who” made a river to go out of Eden to water the garden” (Gen. ii. 10), should, in “the times of the restitution of all things,” make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water “(Isa, xli. 1 8). Go the could say of his own fruitful well-watered land, “when I stand alone at night in open nature, I feel as though it were a spirit, and begged redemption of me; often have I had the sensation, as if nature, in waiHiig sadness, entreated something of me;” — how much more may we say of this scorched waste that it “groans and travails in jDain” (Rom. viii. 22). Yes, the desert groan is the deepest and most unbroken of alL And shall it not be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the sons of God? When earth’s bright Sabbath comes, shall not the desert put off its sackcloth and put on its Sabbathrobe, — earth’s Eden-verdure, — “the excellency of Carmel and Sharon?” (Isa. xxxv. 1, 2.)
Soon after we passed Wady Barudh-el-Ayedch. A hirge flock of camels, seventy or eighty, were feeding not far off. They belong to the BedaAveen, and are here for a month or two for pasture. Our dragoman sends off one of our men for milk, but he returns without it. For several hours we have been going due -north through El-AHsh, which, as it gets northward, assumes a more pleasant aspect. It is fully a quarter of a mile broad, its white gravelly channel covered, and its margin lined, with tarfa-trees. On each side are small brown slopes, which look iiKe iieVN’jy plt/iighed fields, and remind me of Teviotdale and its slopes in spring. The winter-torrents must be strong in this wady, as is indicated Ijy the torn- up tarfas, and the large stones evidently rolled and to.ssed about by the force of the current. Yet all along its bud we see the black beetles running ovei* the sand, — things of life even in this land of the lifeless-About four o’clock the wady widened out into a large plain, some eight or ten miles in circuit, with Jchcl Sikh on our right front, and Jchel Badhiah on our left front, both somewhat distant. While nearer, and towards the left, that is westward, rose Jchel Jeremlih. About five o’clock we encamyed in the wady, down which our course had lain all the day, El-AHsh.
We had occasion to notice in the evening how careful the Arabs are of their trees. Of the low shrubs they make fires, but not of tarfas and such like. Once or twice, indeed, we did see a seyaleh scorched, as if a fire had been kindled beneath it, Ijut this was rare. Some of our party had kindled a fire within some feet of a tarfa. Scarcely, however, had we done so, than our sheikh came, and with the politest signs imaginable, accompanied of course with a flood of words which we did not understand, requested us to remove it from the tree. From the way in which he shook his head, and pointed to the different quarters, we guessed that he meant to tell us that the Bedaween of the neighbourhood would be very angry at us, if we set fire to their trees. Of course we complied with his most reasonable request.
Wady El-Arish, Sahhath, Feb. 3, — We rested as usual on this day, and spent it much as on former occasions. These Sabbath-rests in the desert were most grateful. The wilderness was calm as on other days, and seemed less dreary. Occasionally the ravens shyly approached our tents, in quest of food; and we noticed
THE ritt’al 26V
on more occasions than one, that in the mornings they
seemed on the watch for our departure. Hardly had
our camels begun to move, when three or four of these
birds would find their way to the spot to j)ick up our
fragments. The question of the Divine speaker in the
book of Job, had a meaning in these deserts which it
has not at home: —
“Who provideth for the raven us food? When its young ones cry to God, When they wander for hick of food.” — (Job xxxviii. 41.)
The Arabs wanderea about, and in the afternoon made charcoal out of the roots and stems of the larger desertshruhs; not the trees such as the tarfa; these they left untouched. The ritt’ni, we were told, makes the best charcoal, thus illustrating the passage which mentions “coals of juniper” (Ps. cxx. 4), or more properly “coals of the roth em.” I have already noticed this tree as a place of shelter from the heat, as in the case of Elijah (1 Kings xix. 4, 5). The only other place where the tree is mentioned is in Job, where it is spoken of as furnishing food for the famishing, “who cut up juniyer (rothcm) roots for their moat” (Job xxx. 4). This we never saw, and we could only imagine it done in the extremity of want, which indeed the passage implies, — “for want and famine they were solitary; fleeing into the wildeniess... They were driven forth from among men, to dwell in the clilfs of the valleys, in caves of the earlli, and in the rocks” (Job xxx. 3, G).
Wady El-Artsh, Monday, Feb. 4. — T rose at four, and called Haj-Ismael, as we were to start early, in order to reach Naklil at night. Walked out about half-past four. The morning was cold, and there was hoarfrost upon our tents and on several objects round us. Between five and six the whole encampment was astir, — fires kindling, food preparing, and goods packing. Foremost among the packers was Sheikh-Suliman, — ever active, smiling, and obliging. By the starlight, with the help of the Arab fires, he bustled about, striking the tents and getting the camels in readiness. As he was packing up our tent-gear, the old man kept singing a lively Arab song, which seemed to consist only of a few lines, as the same words and notes were continually lecurring. I asked the dragoman what it meant, and he told me that the words were, “Why is she so long in coming?” It sounded pleasantly in the starlight of morning. I wish I could have picked up the whole, and compared its orientalisms with such a passage, as “Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices” (Song viii 14).
At first when we struck our tents, there was not a streak of dawn, — only the morning-star which seemed ever to shine kindly upon us, reminding us of Rev. xxii. 16, “I am the root and offspring of David, the bright and morning star.” Then the moon came up, in her last quarter. Then the east began to give signs of sunrise, and the west to take on its usual purjDle. Then the sun came up without a cloud. Our desert locomotives moved off a little after seven, we walking before them. Our route still lay down Wady-el-AHsh, which was now of considerable breadth, and most distinctly marked as a water-course. Our road was for a while over flat sandstone, then hard gravelly sand. The shrubs were fewer than on the previous day, which was well for us when we mounted (which we did at half-past nine), as camels insist upon stopping at every bush to catch a mouthful, which is rather annoying, more especially as the Bedaween take the part of the camels in this matter, and are not by any means pleased when you do not allow them thus to feed by the way. Our ride was not peculiarly interesting. The country is tame and rather flat, broken only by hillocks of chalk, like sandstone. Before three we passed out of Wady-el-Arish into Wady-el-Aujanah, where the country seemed some-Avhat less flat and barren, and the white cliffs of Jehel Aiijchiah rose to the eastward. In a little we saw Jchel Halldl, a range of hills far to the leftward, and nearer, in the same direction, Jebel-el-Herem, composed of the same white sandstone, which in the distance has the the appearance of chalk. At five o’clock we pa-;sod out of Wady Aujdnah into Wady Bhuterife]i, a wide, dreary ])lain, where our road lay over sand and small black dfibri.s, flattened and hardened into consistency by the rains. The sun set about six, but wo pushed on by starlight, and encamped at NuJM about eight, cold and weary, having travelled without a break since seven in the morning. It wa.s half-past ten ere we could get dinner, and nearly twelve ere we got to bed. A few of the inhabitants of the Khan came to look at the strangers, but we were too tired to notice them, A guard was sent to us, — not because of danger, but as a pretext for backshish. Judging, however, from the bowlings of the night, we should have said that our guard consisted of dogs instead of the pasha’s soldiers. Again and again were we reminded of the scriptural allusions to “dogs,” to which we have already referred. Devourers of dead camels, and disturbers of the peace, these were their characteristics in our eyes.
Khan NahJd, Tuesday, Feb. 5. — Morning very chill and misty. Mere than once we had experienced “the great rain of his strength” (Job xxxvii, 6); we had now the “small rain” of which the patriarch speaks. The thermometer in the tent was at 40^. We found this well-known Khan standing in the midst of a plain. It is a large square fort, with one or two soldiers’ huts outside, though Burckhardt speaks of its having no habitation round it. The same traveller conjectures that in old times the plain was covered with palm-trees, and that from these the Khdn took its name. This region does not seem a likely one for a forest of such trees. It is more probable that hero there was one solitary palm, beside the well, from which it was called the “fort” or “inn of the palm.”
At eleven we went to pay our respects to the governor of this desert fort, and to make arrangements about guides to Petra. We found him, surrounded by about twenty others, “sitting in the gate,” the place of business and of judgment. Just within the main outer gate was a large square, on two sides of Avliich was the divan, — a stone sofa covered with matting, and in some parts with carpet. We had to sit, of course, in eastern style. Pipes and coffee were handed round; the latter was always most gi’ateful, though some of us despised the former. The conversation at first was general, and was carried on, of course, by means of our dragoman. We gave the governor many good wishes — we spoke of the alliance between our Queen and the Sultan — we mentioned the pleasiure we had received in our travels. To all these he gave gracious answer. But we were intent on business, and so I told Haj-Ismail to proceed to the point. But our dragoman, was not to be moved from eastern form. “This is our way of doing business,” was his answer. After sitting thus for a quarter of an hour, the governor proposed that we should adjourn to his private apartments. So, leaving the council vi twenty behind, we went off with him. He led the way to another open square, where a man and camel were at work drawing water 0T.it of the deep well of the ibrt. There we stood and told him our wish to visit Petia. He told us that the sheikh was absent, — that he did not know when he would return — it might be a week, or it might be but two days — that he would send a man and dronudary in scarcli of him. This was not pleasant intelligence for us. We had ah’cady been tlu’ee weeks in the desert, and were getting weary of it. We did not like the thought of lingering in this its tamest and most uninteresting region for even two days, — much less for a week. So, after exchanging some more civilities, we returned to our tents for consultation.
Most unwillingly, and after weighing all sides, we concluded to give up Petra and to strike straight north for Palestine, either by Gaza or Hebron. Calling in our dragoman, we told him our purjjose. He was sorely out of temper at our change of plans; yet we could not understand why, for he had frequently told us that the sooner we got out of the desert the better for him, as it was only in Syria that he would make anything by us. We found, however, that he generally said anything that suited his purjiose at the moment. Finding that we were determined, he told us that we must pay him for the time he had expected to be in the desert, and that, as we were thus to be seven days less, we must give him seven days’ payment, that is £So. We reminded him that our contract specified nothing as to time — that he would be a gainer by our being seven days less in the desert — that we should be thus seven days longer in Palestine. But he saw none of these things. He only seemed to see an opyortunity of making £S5 additional out of us, and he stuck to his demand. We kept, however, to our purpose, and told him to get ready to start for Hebron, and that if there were any claims upon us for additional money, they must be adjusted on our arrival at Jerusalem. So he went off to make arrangements and to get “a man of a good family” to be our protector in room of the absent sheikh. In the course of the afternoon he called me into his tent to see the new sheikh-substitute, who had agreed to furnish camels, audto guide us to DlLaltariyah — nine days’ journey from this, and a day from Hebron. Some five or six Arabs were in the tent, talking over the route, among whom was the governor and his scribe or secretary, with pen (or rather reed) and paper in hand, and inkhorn in his girdle. Orientals do not write on desks or tables. They use the palm of their left hand instead; and I was told by a missionary that he had tried both ways, and found (though he could not account for it) that he wrote Arabic much better upon his palm than upon his desk. The contract was soon written and duly signed, or rather sealed with the seal of the contracting parties, and we are to start, D.V., to-morrow. The rest of the day was spent in photographing. Mr Wright took some excellent portraits and some interesting groups — Arabs, travellers, and camels.
Our Sinaitic Arabs came in the evening to bid us good bye and to receive haclcsldsh. Some were satisfied and others not. One or two did not scruple to come back and make a double claim upon us, trusting to our not recognising them. For though wo found them remarkably honest throughout the journey, we saw that they did not hesitate about getting all the money they could out of us. Afterwards, Sheikh Sulimjin came to give me a comi)lete list of the various jthujes through which we had passed since we left Suci
274; INFERIORITY OF THE BEDAWEEN.
I noted them down, but found a difficulty in catclilng the precise sound. He was very obhging and patient — anxious that I should get the right name — repeating it again and again. With some of the others it had not always been so. Though they were most civil in answering questions, yet they seemed to smile at our uncouth way of pronouncing their words, — more than once laughing outright, and wondering at our ignorance. Not one of them, save our Iavo servants, Haman and Hummad (or rather Mohummad), ever sought to catch up a word or name of English. They never gave us our names, but only the general appellation of Hoiuadji, that is, gentleman.
We bade these Arabs farewell with much regret. They had been faithful and kind to us; nor did they give us any cause to say of them, what Maundeville did five hundred years ago, “they are right felonious and foul, and of a cursed nature.” Yet, on the whole, they are not a noble-looking race. Some of them do look well, and move nobly — like Asahel, “light of foot as a wild roe” (2 Sam. ii. 18). But they are inferior to the Arabs of Egypt, and especially of Syria, where intermixture with other nations seems to have kept up the vigour of the race. The Bedaween, on the contrary, seem a worn out race. Intermarrying with no other nation, they have degenerated, and are in danger of becoming extinct They do not carry the long spear of their Syrian brethren, and are in general but poorly dressed in comparison with them, though on several occasions our sheikh put on bis court-dress, and shone m silk and gold. They have laid aside the boiu of their ancestor: and, thoufrh the descendants of the desert-archer, they carry only the matchlock and the sword. As Mauudeville says — “they wrap their heads and necks with a great quantity of white linen cloth,” which more than once we saw unrolled and laid in the sand by our dragoman. To-day we had an illustration of this. At Suez we had taken another servant in room of the French Assam, who still followed us, and whom I have mentioned already. His name was Haji-Mahummad — for he had been to ^lecca some years ago. He was different from his fellow- Arabs in almost everything. Strong and well built, he never put forth his strength, but kept it all to himself His face, though manly and intelligent, had the most expressive melancholy I ever saw in an Arab. He never smiled, yet was kind, and ever gentle. He seldom spoke, yet was in good fellowship with all about him. He did his work very carefully, yet with a slowness and deliberation that almost betokened indolence. He took very great pains in maldng our beds and putting our tents in order. He was paler than the others, and had a squint or deficiency in one of his eyes. We liked this silent man, who moved about so noiselessly among us, and whose voice was never heard amid the brawling of his fellows. He seemed poor withal — both shoes and cloak being considerably the worse for wear. Hitherto lie had got on well with our fiery dragoman; but to-day a scene occurreil which shewed the characters of both.
He liaJ mistaken his orders, or neglected them, I don’t know which; but when looking out through the flaps of the tent, I saw Haji-Ismail suddenly spring upon him, his eyes in a glow with passion,* and his hands ready for blows. First, on one side of the head he struck the quiet man, and then on the other, with all his might; and then pushing him furiously, knocked him over among the bauaasfe and baskets in front of his tent. But this did not exhaust the Egyptian’s anger; so he made a second rush ujDon him, and kept cuffing him on both sides of the head, till he had loosened the white roll of cloth about his turban, and knocked off the turban itself. The Arab uttered no word of resentment, but sat down ujDon a wicker-basket and commenced adjusting his head-dress. The dragoman left off beating and commenced scolding; but no answer was made. He ordered him to resume his work, but the injured son of the desert gave no heed. lOi’dm, (” get up,” pronounced goom), shouted the Egyptian, but the Arab sat still. KlilXm, roared the furious dragoman, but Haji-Mahummad moved not, spoke not, but with folded arms, and unlifted eyes, and unmoved lips, kept gazing on the rolls of his dishevelled tarbush which lay at his feet. In despair the master turned away and let his passion cool. In some five or ten minutes the servant, having composed his ruffled dress (not his countenance,
* “Mine enemy s7i.arpewe<A his ees upon me,” said Job (xvi. 9). Our dragoman’s eyes helped us to the meaning of this. The wild glow of his Egyptian eyes was like a sword springing from its sheath, shaipening itsell upon its victim before destroying it.
for on it no line had changed), rose and went about his work. The quiet man had gotten the victory. “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city” (Prov. xvi. 32).
Kkan Ifakhl, Wednesday, Feb. G. — Morning fine, but cold. Afterwards the heat increased, and at noon the thermometer in the tent stood at 80°. We are not to start till to-morrow — for what reason we know not, save that the Arabs must take their own time and way in mustering their camels. Our Sinaitic friends have not yet left us. They are not going back to Sinai, but proceed directly to Cairo to look out for another engagement. They carry letters for the post, and also our poor French cook, who has done nothing since we left Suez. Our new Eedaween have had some sad fighting about camels and camel-loads. Three or four swords wcrf drawn; and tongues, hands, sticks, swords were all miu’jlinn; and clashin;,^ The storm blew over, very likely to rise again to-morrow. The governor invited us to his house to-night. Two of us went and were greatly interested in an eastern entertainment. I remained in my tent writing and reading. Afterwards we heard that the sheikh had arrived, and that he would go with us to Hebron. But our dragoman has already engaged the “man of good family,” so that there will lik(,ly bo another battle, — which may cause a little delay, )ll which will t-nd, as all tlicse Arab strifes do, in a compromise between the two parlies.
Khan Nahld, Thursday, Feb, 7. — There had been wiad and rain during the niht, but the dawu was fine. We did not like to see or hear of rain, — for we were told that if it came, we might expect three days of it; — and as we were now getting pretty far north, and more into the region of rain, we felt a little anxious about the weather. Tent-life in rain or wind is not very pleasant. But the day turned out well.
As we had feared, a battle rose in the forenoon about
the sheikh. Haji-Ismail wanted the sheikh to come
with us, but as another was engaged, what was he to do?
A dispute of the most fierce and animated kind ensued.
Like most Arab disputes, it did not go beyond words
and threats. But still the uproar was appalling, — the
inhabitants of the place taking part. The noise of some
two dozen of Arab tongues was hideous. * There seemed
no prospect of peace. Our dragoman came to ask what
was to be done. We told him it was his business not
ours. He had got himself into a scrape, and he must
get out of it as he could. Again the uproar rose, — last-.
ing, perhaps in all, two hours. At last we agreed to
divide with him the expense of taking both, which was
not great. So about twelve we started, — our old Bedaween running by our side to bid us farewell, — Sheikh
* Truly they were “masters of the tongue,” as the word translated “babbler” is literally (Eccl. x. 11.) They were not of a “slow tongue;” nay, their tongue was “as an arrow shot out “(Jer. ix. 8). “Wo knew enough of what they were saying to discover their profane use of the name of God.
Suliman as blythe and lively as ever. Most fervently dul we seek blessing in their behalf. They continued looking after us, and kissing their hands to us till distance separated us. May “the dayspring from on high visit them”
We set off, down Wady-El-ArisJi, — the day sunny, but with thin clouds and a strong west wind. The wind kept us cool, but then, both here and in Syria, it is the bringor of rain. How natural must the Lord’s remark have seemed to those in whose ears he made it, “when ye see a cloud rise out of the west, straightway ye say, There cometh a shower; and so it is. And when ye see the south wind blow, ye say, There will be heat; and it cometh to pass” (Lidce xii. 5-i, 55). Yet the day continued fine, though not without threats of rain. The wady is here about two miles broad; our road skirted a low sort of forest or shrubbery of tarfas. Our road at first was a curious one of broken sand, — that is, of hard sand cut up and seamed into long paths or ruts by the rain. We halted at Wady-el-Hoovjah or Htlvjah, — a sandy wady nmning up eastwards from El-Arish, — at three o’clock. A short day’s journey this. But Arabs make a point of having the first day’s journey short. Indeed, they would make every day’s journey as short if they cuulil, for tliry care nothing about time, and cannot be made to understand that otlicrs care about it. Often did we urge them to push on a little faster; but it was of no use. They loved to loiter by the way, and they thought that their camels .should do the same, and expressed displeasure at us for not allowing them to stop every twenty paces for a mouthful of tarfa-twigs or AkhlU thorns. We spoke of reaching such or such a place lil, that is, to-night; they shook their heads and shouted la, la, — no, no, — hukra, to-morrow. Their standing rule is not to do to-day what can be done to-morrow, Biihra is their maxim in everything save speech; for words fly out like lightning from an Arab’s lips. They may be slow to work, but they are not slow to speak.
In the evening heavy showers came down; but we were snugly in our tents, reading Milton aloud, and after that the Scripture. We are now in a region apparently unknown, — at least not a trace of our route can we find in any map. Indeed, from the time we left Wa.dy-esh Sheikh, avo have found the maps almost a blank, — some worse than a blank, Dr Wilson’s, which we found most useful and accurate between Suez and Sinai, fails us after that.* The route which we have pursued since we left Sinai is different from that of most previous travellers, and northward of Nakhl esjiecially we find no trace of footsteps. Even the names of places are not elsewhere mentioned.
Wady-el-IIuvjah, Friday, Feb. 8. — Had a pleasant walk over the sandy mounds and among the bushes for an hour before breakfast, with my psalter in my hand. The morning was bright, but chill. We loaded a little
* Since writing the above I have got Dr Robinson’s map in the first volume of the new edition of his work. It is the best I have seen.
after eight, and were off by nine, — walking before our caravan for an hour and a half. “We crossed Wady-el-Huvjah, and keeping north-east, we passed a very wide plain of sand and small stones, with hills only in the distance. About half-past ten we mounted our camels, — but found them not quite so tractable as our former ones had been. The impatience of the camel to get up, the moment he feels you touch him, is the chief difficulty. I had just got my foot across his back, when up, he started, before I had either hold or balance. The camel-driver was at hand, and he caught me; but I could neither get my feet to the ground nor my body and head upon the camel, who persisted in moving on. The Arab, however, soon succeeded in lifting me so far up that I could get firm hold of the wooden projection in front of the saddle, and I soon righted myself. The clouds in the north-west looked very dark, threatening rain. The shower, however, did not come immediately, but a cold wind from the same quarter kept blowingmost of the day. About half-past twelve we saw some fine specimens of the mirage or serdh, as the Arabs call it, — at a short distance to the right. There were some striking though not very high hills in that direction, partly black and partly white, which, in conjunction with the mi.st which the noonday sun was now bringing up out of the moist ground, formed the whole scene. 1’liis mist took possession of a slight hollow, perhaps about two miles in length, and presented a most perfect resemblance to a lake shone upon by a cloudless sun.
The mist crept a little way along the base of one of the black and white bluffs, and then there was a precipice projecting far into this sunny lake, the darker parts of the rock appearing exactly like trees springing out of the crevices of the cliff. The mist then sent up some of of its grey masses, which spread themselves along the whole face of the hills for miles, with spaces here and there, some large, some small, which allowed the black patches on the hills to be seen. This j)roduced the scene of a lofty wooded hill, projected into the centre of the lake, which now seemed dotted with islands, and enhvened with ships moving across its placid waters, while at each end two huge cliffs frowned over it. It was fine, and continued in sight for more than half an hour, till at a sudden turn it was shut out by a sandy hillock. In some scientific works, we have seen the serdb described at length, and accounted for on mathematical princijoles, the same as regulate the appearance of distant vessels upside down at sea. The two things are totally different, the latter being the reflection of a real, but far off object, below the horizon; the other, wholly a deception, conjured up by the wondrous combination of mist and mountain. It is to this that the prophet refers, when speaking of the renovation of the earth in the latter day, he says, “and the parched ground (in the Hebrew it is sherahv) shall become a pool” (Isa. XXXV. 7), — that is, the serdb shall really become what it seems, — a pool, — no longer mocking the weary traveller or thirsty Arab.
On we journeyed through a wide dreary plain, with almost no herbage of any kind. We crossed Wady Fah’klah; we saw in the distant west Jebel YelaJch, a long range, and to left front (east) Jehel Harim, near which the road strikes off to Petra, and to which we seemed to be drawing nearer. The afternoon became showery, but the sky cleared again, and about four we had a silendid serdh on the distant right. A long semicircular range of white perpendicular chfifs was the great actor in the scene, playing chief part in conjunction with the rising mist. The whole range was taken into the magic landscape, — and all its outstanding parts or proiections, which pierced through the blue haze, formed so many castles, set in the midst of a magnificent lake that swept the whole base of the cliffs. The mountain-range was Ras-el-Fahddah. On Jebel Harim we had no less than five rainbows in succession, each shower as it came, braiding a new iris on the rugged hill. After each shower the air seemed clearer, and the sun.shine brighter. A peculiar freshness breathed up from the very sand; and we noticed in one or two places that the rains of these two days had brought up little patches of grass here and there. It was just the picture drawn by David of the reign of Messiah in the latter day, —” Tlicrc shM rule over men ii Just One,
He shall rule in the fear of God.
And as the li:4lit of morning shall he arise,
The sun of an uii< luiided morniny,
Clear-shininy after rain
Upon the tender grass of the earth.” — (2 Sam xxiii. 3, 4.)
281- WADY-EL-FAUADAH.
The above passage is all the more apt and striking, Ijecause the Hebrew word for rain is almost the same as the Arabic. We had heard the Bedaween constantly speaking about mutt’r, and in this passage the words “after rain” are “after viatta7” These resemblances are not without their interest.
About five we encamped in Wady-el-Fahldah. As both wind and rain threatened, we took some pains with our tents, securing the pins, making the flaps tight, heaping up sand on the outside. Having dined, we had some pleasant reading, and Mr Beddome produced his flute, which soon silenced its rival, an Aral instrument of two or three reeds, which had droned and squeaked the whole day on our journey, and now threatened to inilict its sounds upon us in oui resting-place. Its owner, one of our attendants, a nice Arab boy of sixteen, slipped quietly into our tent, and squatted down with a delighted face to hear our superior music. He seemed lost in w’onder, both at the sweet sounds and at the instrument from which they came. He left, when we produced our Bibles, anc began our evening worship. This day has been rather i dreary one, — showery and unpleasant, — yet there was nc great rain, till we were fairly housed for the night. During one of the passing showers of the day, I took refuge under a ritt’m-tree; but we needed something mon tight and substantial for the rain of the night.
Wady-el-Faliadah, Saturday, Feb. 9. — Rose at seven and walked out along the wide, gravelly plain. The day was calm, though cloudy; and there had been some heavy showers during night. We did not start till ten, our Arabs being lazy, and our camels afraid of wind and cold. Leaving the party to follow, I set off alone, skirting the base of Jehel Hartm, or Hraiin (I am not sure which), across the breadth of Wady-el-Fahadah, and keeping nearly due north. The wind was strong, but in our backs; still the camels shrunk from it, though there was no rain. The sun pushed his way out from among the clouds about half-past ten, — but this did not hinder a smart shower from coming down on us. At half-]jast twelve we saw Jehel Hallo I, or Ilelldl, on the distant left, and on the right front Jebel Massdrah. We next passed through a wide plain, paved with small stones; then we crossed Wady Meshdsli, where we observed a slight scrub, — a lake at the foot of a hill; after which Ave crossed Wady Kluiraiah, a broad plain of gravel, with a few camel-shrubs. About two we observed a fine serdb to the right. First there was a bold headland jutting into a lake; then another headland; then a succession of. islands across the whole breadth of the lake, which was shut in by a lower promontory. The lake seemed to be miles in extent.
We now passed out of Wady Kharaiah into Wady-esh-Scherif, — which ought to mean “the noble valley,” — about three o’cliK-k, going still nearly north. To the right was Jebel Mess’irah, and in front, a little to the left, Jebel-esh-Scherif, — the long and lofty range of Ift’lldl still running along with us in the distance.
About five we came to the foot of Jehel-esh-ScheriJ; on the right (east), a little in the distance, Jehel BiXrkka. About two days due east of us we observe in our maps a place called Ghudhaghidh, on the way to Petra. We have been inclined to ask, Is this the Gudgodah of Deut. X. 7, and the Ilor-hagldgad of Numb, xxxiii. 32? The place is certainly on the route of Israel. A quarter before six we halted in Wady-esh-Scherf. The evening at first was fine, — then cloudy, then rainy. But our tents were good, withstanding both wind and rain.