Suez — Red Sea — Atakah — Ayun Musa

Suez, Thursday, Jan. 17. 1856. — Hose about seven and went out for a walk and a survey. Strolk-d among the sand)” hillocks and by the edge of a small arm of the sea which went up beyond our tents. Tho sun was Hist rising in the clear ea.st, with nothing to intercept the brilliance of his beams, as they came down over the level breadth of as calm a sea as ever bid welcome to an eastern dawn. No scene of morning could better illustrate the figure of Zophar the Naamathite, when speaking of the righteous passing out of tribulation into gladness — “Thou shalt shine forth, thou shalt be as the morning.” (Job xi. 17.) The sky was just parting with that soft purple which in these climes is peculiarly its tinge before the sun has risen. The bold cliffs of AtdJcah, just fronting the East, were coming slowly out, revealing the innumerable precipices, and ravines, and steeps, which darkness had hidden. What a rich blaze of sunlight it was, that seemed to be flung against that noble headland! Just such a blaze as Israel must have seen from the opposite coast in that morning when they found themselves safe from the pursuer, and with this same Has Atdkah, this “mountain of deliverance ‘’ full in view, they sang the song of thankful gladness to their Almighty Deliverer.

“Oh, welcome came the cheei“ful mom to shew
The drifted wreck of Zoan’s pride below;
The mangled limbs of men, the broken car,
A few sad relics of a nation’s war.”

The Indian steamer was now in sight, and the rude telegraph (not electric) of the Transit Company was working to send the intelligence to Cairo. Our dragoman quite lost his temper with the dogs of Suez, which had eaten his mutton and carried off his fowl during the night. This was no great loss to us, as the sand-storm of the preceding day had so impregnated everything with sand that we were not sorry to have our teeth spared the pain and the risk of chewing these articles, — especially as it seemed of little consequence to dogs or Arabs what amount either of sand or dirt might be mingled with their food. Our touLs were spread out to dry in the sun, as they had got thoroughly soaked with

Ilcbcr’s “Passage of tho Red Sea.” In a previous line ho had spoken of tho sun’s “latest ray” fading upon “Edom’s hills.” The hills of Edoin, [iropcrly so called, arc at least 150 miles off, and could not have reflected tho sun to tho E;o’ptian desert. In a fiimous German picture of Israel’s triurni)h, Mo.’cs, Aaron, &c. are represented as standing on a lofty prectpice ovorhanginir tho sea, while the Pyramids appear in tho backiroiuul I There are no such precipices on tho eastern shore, and tho Pyramids must bo about 00 miles distant!

8S BEATING SERVANT.

two nights’ rain. Life in the “tented field” does well enough in fine weather, but wet tents, wet clothes, wet bedding, make one glad of a more substantial roof than canvas. After breakfast our dragoman got his temper ruffled again by our cook, a poor ignorant creature, half French half Arab, both in language and in race, who could do nothing but blunder his master’s orders and break his dishes. Haji Ismael beat him severely with a large stick, — the first thing that came to hand. “I’m in the desert now,” said he to us, “and I must be master; when I’m on business I don’t know my own father or mother.” There was some truth in this, though we half pitied the poor Frenchman; and the latter part of the speech reminded us of Deut. xxxiii. 9, “who said unto his father and to his mother I have not seen him, neither did he acknowledge his brethren, nor know his own children.”

We soon made the discovery that these beatings were common things, — quite the usual appendages of a reproof when the dragoman had lost his temper. After vociferation and gesticulation, enforced by the furious flashes of Arab eyes, had exhausted themselves, he would rush upon his victim with any implement of wood or iron that might lie in his way. Nor was there any resistance or apparent resentment; the assault seemed counted on as a matter of course. “Beatinsf with stripes” seems strange to us; but an eastern thinks little of it; the frequent allusions to it in Scripture as the punishment of servants, shew how ancient the praC”

i tice is. “If the wicked man be worthy to be beatrni,! the judge shall cause him to lie down to be hcaten before his face,” (Deut. xxv. 2; see also Luke xii. 47). As the beating is the legaJ. mode of punishment in the east, so it is the method adopted by those who take the law into their own hand. It certainly was effectual, so far as we could judge. The Bedaween woidd dispute a matter with our dragoman, and return all his angrywords with vociferations equally emphatic; but the stick never failed to stop their mouth, and it was with this that he generally silenced all obstinate disputants. He boasted that he had beaten one of our tallest and strongest Arabs three times in the course of our first fortnight in the desert. I may notice that he carried no sword, which was perhaps well; but his companion was a thick, though short, black staff of ebony, carved at the head, and grooved along its length. He was not a “man of war,” though he was a “man of strife.” Though the Arabs were armed,* yet they drew no sword against him at any time, but submitted to his beatings quite peaceably.

We spent some hours in Suez or Suweis, a huge market-depot for the goods of the east and west. Without water and without harbour it can never be a city. A great KJidn it has been, and it is likely to be greater

“Thoy all bold swords,
£xi)Crt in war:

Evorj’ man his sword u]ion his thigh. Because of foar in tho ul’jht.” — (^<on(j of Sol. iii. 8.)

yet; but nothing more. No Alexandria nor Cairo will ever rise here. The unceasing sand-drift filling up the sea may possibly force it down the sea-coast in quest of better harbourage, for no craft of deeper draught than a lighter can at present touch at its quay. It would certainly bo better to anticipate this and turn the railway from Cairo downwards to the south-east point of Atohali, erecting there a harbour round whose deeper w’aters a city might gather.

We watched the landing of the passengers from India, — many of them pale and scorched, — but bright with the prospect of home. The scene was just the reverse of what we had witnessed in the Mediterranean. There the faces were fresh with the glow of the north, but there seemed sadness over them, in the remembrance of home left behind, and we saw tears dropping from the eyes of mothers, on the letters which they were writing to children from whom they had just parted. After the passengers came their luofoase, and after it followed the vessel’s cargo, consisting of all India’s varied stores, chiefly bales of raw- silk on its way to Marseilles and Lyons. Two or three hundred camels were waiting to convey these across the desert. In them we had the finest specimens of the camel that we had seen, beyond anything that the streets of Cairo or the plains of Egypt had furnished. The camel hns a peculiar look of meekness and melancholy about his face, specially in his mouth and eye. He has no touch of dry humour or demure drollery about him as the donkey most certainly has, all

THE CAilEL. 91

over his face; yet he is not dull and unintelligent. Mute patience is his characteristic, though we have been witnesses of the angry look and the surly growl. His abundance of bone and sinew does sometimes make him look gaunt and shabby. But each one of this great herd now waiting for the freightage of India, was, though as meek as ever, noble and stately, in good condition, and fit for any amount of work, — very different from ours, which looked meagi-e, both in size and appearance, when compared with these well-fed burden -bearers, which, in spite of wind, or rain, or heat, were to pursue their journey of eighty miles, night and day, without the stoppage of an hour. The scene in the yard where they were loaded was quite peculiar. The confusion, the strifoj the uproar, the noise of Arab tongues, are quite indescribable. Yet the patient camel stands in the midst of it, — not at all disconcerted or frightened. He kneels and rises at the word or rather the sound of command, for it is by a pecidiar guttural sound that the command is given. In less than half an hour the sounds have ceased, the yard is empty, the crowd has separated, the camels are on their way to Cairo.

In the course of the forenoon I bathed in the Red Sea, a little way from the town. The water was shallow, but cool and pleasant.

Embarked about three, in a clumsy Arab boat capable of holding a dozen. We moved down, but neither by sail nor oar. There was no wind for tlic former and no depth of water fur the latter. AVe advanoed by pushing

92 VOYAdE DOWN THE RET) SEA.

^vitb a long pole, — which process was accompanied by some peculiar song, which, though repeated fifty times in the course of oiu* voyage, we could neither pick up nor understand. It seemed an unmeaning chant.

We went slowly down, keeping Jehel Atohah on one side, and Jehel Er-Rahah on the other, — getting a nearer view of the point of the former, where Israel must have entered the sea. We were saiUng over the debris of Pharaoh’s host, over chariots and chariot-wheels; might we not see gleaming from under these shallow waters the gilded horse-trappings, — the helm, the spear, the shield, the torn banner, with its soiled and broken staff?

The shoals all seemed to ran up and down the gulf, not across it. The lie of the immense sand-banks is pretty nearly north and south, with channels of deeper water between them. This struck me as another objection to the shoal theory of Robinson. For though the shoals and sand-banks are frequent, yet they do not run across the sea, so as to have formed a highway for Israel to tread. Speaking in usual phrase, it would be a thousand chances to one that there should be any long and continuous sand-bank running across. Even though these had been left dry by the ebb, there would be deep water between.

The great triangular plain on which Israel was caught as in a net by Pharaoh, stretched to our right, walled in by the mountains on one side and the sea on the other. Pharaoh is represented as saying, “they are entangled in the land, the wilderness hath shut them in,”

(Exocl xiv. S). Knowing as lie must have done, their belief that they were the heirs of Canaan, he expected that they would have marched straight into it by the short desert, so that they would have been soon beyond his reach. When he heard that they were not marching northward “by the way of the Philistines” (Exod. xiii. 17), but southward, he immediately concluded that they were within his grasp. “They are entangled in the land,” (literally “they are perplexed with the land “‘) “the wilderness hath shut them in” (literally “hath imprisoned them.”) It seemed as if they could not escape him; for he thought it impossible that they could march far south, knowing the mountain-range that was before them, and he deemed it equally impossible that they could attempt the desert. As soon as he learned that they had not gone northward into Canaan, he felt sure of their being his prey. His object was to get between them and Canaan, not between them and the wilderness. He did not suppose it possible that two millions of people would march into the wilderness; for that, according to the calculation of any Egyj)tian, would just be to perish with thirst and hunger. On the gi’ouud of this passage alone we should be inclined to object to the theory wliicb makes them turn the western flank of Atakah and march down Wady Tawarik. In this case it woidd not be the wilderness, but the land alone that would “imprison” thoni.

Our Aral)S called the sea not the “lied Sea,” but Bahv-Malak, the Salt Sea, in contrast to the Bakr of

9i RED SEA.

Egypt, that is, the Nile. Every few minutes varied the Eceue, — the clouds altorfvl as the sun got low, and put en a darker tinge; the sky took on a silky softness richer than anything we had seen at home; the ridges of the hills came sharply out, with all their dark rav-ines; till at length the sun went dovm. hehind At’tkah, and the rt’ flection of the last rays went and came, with a dull purplo brightness, quivering for miles over the still face of the passive blue. Blue, I have called the sea, — yet not strictly so, save in the fur distance. It is neither a red sea nor a Hue sea; but emphatically green, — j’es, green, of the most brilliant kind I ever saw. This is produced by the immense tracts of shallow water, with juUcw sand beneath, which always give this green to the sea, even in the absence of verdure on the shore or sea-weeds beneath. The blue of the sky and the yellow of the sands meeting and intermingling in the water, form the c/reen of the sea, — the water being the medium in which the mixing or fusing of the colours takes place.

At lenfrth about seven o’clock we reached our landing-place, an(’ were carried ashore on the backs of Arabs. Our camels had been sent round the head of the sea, early in the day, ond were to meet them at Ayun !Musa. So after satisfying our boatmen, we set off to walk along the sand, with our dragciiian and two or three of our Arabs as guides.

The walk was fine. There was the bright light of a moon r..ow in her second quarter, with broken drifts of cloud that coursed along, and for a moment obscured its face. These changes from moonlight to shadow, and from shadow to moonlight, give fine effect to the desert scene, — for it was one vast plain of level sand that we were now traversing. I have seen moonlight on the mountains; I have seen moonlight on the moors; I have seen moonlight on the sea; but 1 never saw anything rg vividly yet so mildly brilliant as moonlight on the yello’«^ sands of Arabia. There were just three great breadth or masses of colour, — the sky, the moonshine, and the sand, without anything of intermediate or contrasting hue to mar the effect of these, — no rock, no tree, no patch of dark soil. These three, the blue, the yellow, and the white, had the whole scene to themselves, without a rival above, or beneath, or around. Their unbroken fusion into each other, seemed to throw out a sort of intermediate brightness, belonging to all, yet distinct from each, and to produce an atmosphere of the softest and most mellow splendour I had ever seen. The blue was softer yet darker than usual, the white was more intense, the yellow purer yet more vivid in its tinge, while, apart from these, there was a restless lustre filling the whole air, as if, in the braiding of these colours into one, their various threads were giWng out their peculiar glow, which as the big clouds hurried across, alternately lost and regained its richness,

Wc reached our tents about nine. The nijiht-breeze, was stirring among the palms and tamarisks, — taking awiiy the loneliness and lifelessness of the desert. A iuw lights were visible, a few inhabitants of the village were

96. OVERTHROW OF THE EGYPTIANS.

moving near our tents. The sky was clear and a silent dew was falling. Everything looked pleasant; — and we felt how much wo had to give thanks for to our loving God, who had thus far brought us on our journey in peace. Our tents were pitched perhaps in the very spot where Israel’s were, when they sang the song of Moses and of Miriam: —

I will sing unto Jehovah, for he hath triumphed gloriously: The horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea. Jehovah is a man of war, Jehovah is his name. Pharoalfs chariots and his host hath he cast into the ses; His chosen captains also are drowned in the Red Sea. The depths have covered them: They sank into the bottom as a stone.

On these sands were strewn the wrecks of Egypt’s chivalry. Israel indeed waited not to gather the spoil They needed it not, for their tremLliDg oppressors had at once conceded theii* just claims, and sent them away with wages and with gifts.* But we could imagine the scene presented by these sands for many a day, as robes, and girdles, and gems of the costliest kind (for it was the peerage of the land that perished there), with fragments of the various furniture of war, were washed ashore to become the spoil of the Ishmaelite. God’s people were not to be the gatherers of Egypt’s fragments. There were “wreckers” at hand for these, as it is written; —

Thou hast broken the heads of leviathan,

Thou hast given him for food to the dwellers of the wilderness.

Kxod. xi. 2, the transaction is not one of borrowirig but of demanding s right.

As to the passage of the Red Sea by Israel at low tide, ind when the waters were driven back by the wind, I nay add a few remarks which, especially to a spectator of I he scene, may come -with some force. The lowness of the tide is a mere gratuitous assumption, intended to supersede the necessity of a miracle, or to reduce it to its minimum 3f the supernatural. There is no hint of anything of the kind given us by the historian, and to assume this is not merely to invent a fact, but it is to say that Moses has ven us such a narrative as would imply a miracle, when there was no miracle at all. Now had Herodotus done such a thing, what should we have thought of his veracity? If he stated a thing as a miracle which turns out to be a common natural phenomenon, and wMch he knew quite well to be no miracle, — what opinion should we have of his honesty? If, then, Moses narrates a tiling as a miracle, — or even if he narrates it amhigumishf, — when he knew well there was no miracle at all, — IS he writing houestly? Is he a narrator or an inventor? Now Moses has certainly narrated the passage oi the lied Sea in a way such as to make all his readers in every age believe that he was relating a miracle. If he meant no miracle, there has seldom been a narrative so fitted to deceive, — a narrative which has been so” 8ucccR.sful in deceiving millions for more than throo thousand years, — and that in a mailer of the mot Boleniii kind; for the {|uestion is not one as to the depth or breadth of water, it is one as to divine agency, — it is the same question as ha.s been raised by neology, as to whether Christ’s healing of the sick was the result of supernatural power, or of superior skill in medicine.

So explicit is the language of the narrator* that it has led all subsequent writers, down almost lo our own day, to believe that a supernatural event actually took place. It is certain that all Israel at the time believed that a vast miracle had been wrought for them; and it was of no ehb-tide that Moses and ^liriam and Aaron spoke when they led the mighty song of Israel’s happy praise, iified up within view of those waters through which a way had been cut for them: —

Pharaoh’s chariot ami host hath he cast into the sea: His chosen captains hath lie drowned in the lied ScJL The ABYSSES have covered them, They went down to the nia’Tiis like a stone.

By the blast of thy nostrils stood it the -n-ATERS, Gathered as a mighty heaj) were the floods, Congealed were the auysses in the heart Oi the sea.

“SYhat sort of man does Dr Robinson take !Moses to “be, v;ho could thus declaim about an ebb-tide and shoalvater, uttering big words which meant nothing. But I forget. It was not jMoses who spoke these words; it WJ« the Holy Ghost. It was easy for Rosenmuller to saw,” every body knows that this expression was by no means to be taken in their proper sense; they are merely the descrii)tion of an ebb-tide -/’f but it was hardly to be

* “The waters were A WALL unto th<jm on the right hand and on tie left.” — Exod. xiv. 21, 22, 29. + Scholia in Exoduni.

PASSAGE OF THE llED SEA. 99

expected that a man so reverent towards Scripture as the American traveller should have spoken much in the same way.

Joshua, too, must have been deceived, or lent himself to deceive others; for he speaks of this event forty years after, as a miracle, nay, as a miracle precisely of the same kind as the division of the Jordan. In the case of the Jordan there were no shoals nor ebbs to do the work, for the crossing of that river occurred when it was deepest, broadest, and most rapid. If Joshua speak the truth, in very deed there was a miracle of no ordinary kind, as every one must know who has tried its depths or looked upon the rush of its headlong waters. Israel crossed it at the time when it overflowed its banks, at which time it woidd be impossible to cross it No swimmer could breast it, no boat could stem it. Yet Israel’s myriads walked calmly through; for as soon as the feet of the priests touched the stream, the waters were cut off and stood up as an heap.* Surely any one who believes the Bible must admit the literality of inis miracle. Nay, whatever be the extent of his faith in inspiration, he will at least admit that Joshua believed the miracle. Well, — this very Joshua, who was witness of both scenes, makes mention of both, and declares that the passage of the lied Sea and the passage over Jordan, were b(Ah of them miracles lirecisely of the same hind; — nay, he commands Israel to tell it

“Tlicy chall stand up in one great heap,” or wall — tLo same wcrd as ii UBea by Moses ia roforonco to the Rod Sea. (Joeh. iii. 13, 14, 16.)

to their sons and to their sons’ sons, that these were two stupendous miracles, wrought in the same way by the hand of God. “Then ye shall let your children know, saying, Israel came over this Jordan on dry land. For the Lord your God dried ujd the Avatcrs of Jordan from before you, until ye were yassed over, as the Loi’d your God did to the Bed Sea, which he dried up from before us, until we were gone over.” (Josh, iv. 22, 23.) This is exijlicit enough. Joshua believed both events to be miracles, and miracles the same in kind. Joshua sought to make all Israel, to the latest generation, believe the same. Could Joshua have known anything of the “shoals” and “the ebb-tide?” If he did, where was his truthfulness?

But there were others at this time who had heard of the miracle, and believed it too. Rahab of Jericho and her fellow-citizens received the tidings of it, and took all literally. “We have heard how the Lord dried up the luater of the Red Sea for you, when ye came out of Egypt,” (Josh. ii. 10.) The inhabitants of Jericho would certainly not be disposed to give Israel the credit of greater miracles than they could help; yet they believed the supernatural division of the sea. They do not seem to have got the hint about the ebb-tide. How it would have comforted and soothed them in their terror!

But there were others still who believed the miracle in all its greatness. These, too, were Israel’s enemies, who would gladly have denied it and been truly thankful for the theory of the “eblj-tide,” From several notices in the book of Joshua, we learn that the whole inhabitants of Palestine were filled with fear because of what they had heard of God’s doings for Israel at the Red Sea. Would any such terror have possessed them had they not fully believed the miracle?

In latter ages, too, we find that men were equally deceived as to this occurrence; so that even if Moses’ description does not necessarily infer a miracle, it certainly led them to suppose that he meant it to be so understood. David so understood it: —

Conic and see the doings of God:

Terrible of deed is lie towards the sons of Adam.

He turned the sea into diy hind:

Through the flood they passed on foot. — {Vs. lxvi. 6, 6.)

Thou hast divided by thy strength the sea.

Thou hast broken the heads of the dragons in the waters. —

(Ps. lxxiv. 13.)
He cleft the sea;

And he made them to pass through; Yea, he made the water to stand as a heap (or wall). —

(Ps. lxxviii. 13./
He rebuked the Ecd Sea also,
And it was dried up.
Yea lie made them walk in its depths,
As in the wilderness. — (Ps. cvi. 9.)

To Ilim who divided the Red Sea into parts: For his mercy endureth for ever. — (Ps. cxxxvi.13.)

Not only were David and Asa))h thus misled and maae to mistake a journey across snud at ebb-tide for a muuculous cleaving of the waters; but Isaiah equally mistook the matter, and magnified into a miracle what must have been an everyday occurence to the dwellers on that coast. He thus spoke: —

Where is Uc who buouimit thlm vp out of the SEi.

Leading them by the right hand of Moses

With his glorious arm, cleaving the sea before them.

To make himself a name everlasting;

Leading tlicm in the abtssi:?,

As a horse in the plain. — (Isa. lxiii. 11-13.)

Nehemiah, too, evidently believed it to be thoroughly miraculous, “Thou didst divide the sea before them, so that they went through the midst of the sea on the dry land; and their persecutors thou threwest into the deeps, as a stone into the mighty waters,” (ix. 1 1).

In like manner it is evident that the Apostle Paul •vva.= risled to speak in the same stram £is psalmists and prophets had done before him,

“They all passed through the sea.” — (1 Cor. x. 1.) Nay bo singles out this passage through the sea as a thing which only faith could have effected, “By faith they passed through the Red Sea as by dry land.” (I^eb. xi. 29.) Surely it was no very marvellous act of faith to walk over sands -which the ebb-tide had left dry.

Were all these “holy men” mistaken? Did t’ley magnify into the supernatural what was one of the most natural of all events? Had they actually the hardihood to construct a stupendous miracle out of such a common thing as an ebb-tide? And did the God of truth allow them to write in his Book of truth words which were either wi’etched bombast or a vainglorious lie? ]lrost assuredly Moses, and David, and Asaph, and Isaiah believed the cleaving of the Red Sea to be one of the greatest miracles ever vvTought on earth. They had no idea of an ebb-tide and shoals. Dr Robinson and others may say that they were mistaken in their belief of the miracle.* If that position be taken up, then I understand the state of the question, — and cer-

* I hardly know whether I mitrht not couple llr Stanley’s name with that of Dr Robinson and other dcniers of the miraculous cleaving of the Red Sea. Mr Stanley is brief and cautious, and has balanced his statements with such care that one is at a loss to understand his precise opinion. Yet a reader of his volume is made to feel that, in believing the miraculous passage far down tho sea, in opposition to the more natural one far xip, at the ebb of the tide, he is not taking the philosophical view of the subject, and that he is also adopting a modern theory in preference to ancient opinion! Why Mr Stanley both here and elsewhere should quote the authority of the Seituagiut when it contradi’ts tho Hebrew, one is at a loss toscc. He refers to it in order to neutralize the c.”ipress statement of tho Hebrew. The Hebrew gives east wind, and the Septuagint souih, — which are we to believe 1 Jlr Stanley has not said that we must give up the former; but ho has so written that we are loft to conclude that, in the absence of corroboration from the latter, the former ia not to be depended on. He refers also not seldom to the traditions of tho Greek Church, and without telling us exactly what weight ho attaches to them, he takes great pains to place them upon record, and so to colour them that they win tho reader’s f;ivour by a beauty of complexion and a grace of form altogether fictitious and deceptive. I do not suppose that Mr Stanley believes them, but I feel some dilllculty in knowing whether ho wishes his rcaclcrs to receive them or not. Ho himself does not found any argument ujjon them; but ho o introduces them that many of his readers will do what he has not vcntiu’cd upon do in.

104; PASSAGi: OF TIi:-: Hi D bEA.

taiiily, it is the only real quedloih before U8, viz.. whether the opinion of the sacred writers as to such a matter of fact is to be depended on? It is impossible to explain away their language, or to evade it by pronouncing it the exaggeration of poetry or the license of oriental figure. These holy men believed in the literal and miraculous cleaving of the depths.

Nor is this a question as to verbal inspiration. I confess that I do not see how we can have the thoughts of G od if we have not his words; so that I might say “these arc the words of God himself regarding this miracle, and he could not be mistaken, nor employ ambiguities of expression, of the most deceptive kind.” But this is not after all the question. Suppose that the very words are nut infallibly inspired, — suppose that they are the mere words of fallible men, — still they are words which were evidently meant to express a miracle. The thought or opinion of the writers in the above case was that there had been a miracle. Attach what value you please to their words, — still the meaning is as obvious as any meaning can be; and it is with the meaning, not with the value or quality of the words, that our argument has to do.

The only answer to all this is that the words are inaccm-ate and exaggerated. But what authority has any one to pronounce the language of another inaccurate? If a man is prepared to prove them inaccurate by personal observation, or by other history, or by their involving an impossibility, let the evidence be stated in

PASSAGE or THE RED SEA. 105

full. The advocates of the non-miraculous have not attempted this line of jjroof So that, in the absence of such evidence, we must avow our belief in the entire accuracy of the language employed in the statements cited above. Respecting this there can be little doubt. These ■^Titers believed in a miraculous division of the Red Sea, and they have said so. Let Rationalism step in here and shew that ]Ioses, and Joshua, and David, and Isaiah, and Paul were wrong in their belief. Their language is explicit enough. It is upon the matter of their belief that the question must turn. And that cpiestion involves in it not the fliUibility of men, but the untruthfulness of God. For if God has sjDoken through them in any sense, then he certainly meant us to understand that the passage of the Red Sea was altogether supernatural. He surely would not himself speak, nor would he allow his servants to speak, in a way that would convey a totally false impression of the facts. He would not, as the God of truth, have told us that the sea stood up on either side of Israel as a wall, if he wished us to understand that the ebb-tide had swept away every drop of water on the right hand and on the left.

The denial of verbal inspiration to the Scriptures may seem a light thing, but let it be remembered that it is founded on the assumption of their verbal inaccuracy; and it is almost superfluous to say that inaccuracy of words involves inaccuracy of thought and of statement, so that, according to the denicrs of verbal infallibility, the Liblc, though its author is God, contains inaccurate language, deals in inaccurate statement, and utters inaccurate thought. Other books are admitted to speak correctly the words and sentiments of their authors, but this alone does not convey either the words or thoughts of its author, but many things inconsistent with truth, and at variance with the author’s mind! The denial of verbal inspiration may facilitate the rationalist in evading all that he is not inclined to believe, and may free him from certain trammels which are felt to be oppressive, but, founded as it is upon the assumption of inaccuracy in wjrd and opinion, it can only lead to an utter denial of the whole book itself, if not to a denial of Him whose revelation it professes to be.

If the Koran does not contain Mahomet’s words, and does not accurately represent his sentiments, of what value is it as an exposition of Mahommedanism? If the Bible does not utter the words of God, and if it does not accurately represent his mind, of what use is it as a revelation from God? And what must be his character, who could give to his poor blind creatures a volume professing to come from himself, yet awantiug in that most essential of all things in authorship, — a true statement of facts and an accurate representation of the author’s mind.*

* In the above argument I have kept to one point, which I think has not been suflSciently taken up, — viz., the veracily of the language of Scripture. But besides this, one cannot but ask (1.) How could an ebb-tida secure a passage for two millions, seeing they would require much longer than six hours to cross 1 (2.) How could tbcy be shut in with tlle mountains if they were ten or twelve miles from them, as the Suez passage implies 1 (3.) How could the flow of the tide account for the destruction of

AY UN MUSiV. 107

Aydn MAsa. Friday, Jan. 18. — Hose between six and seven. Though there had been rain during the night, which awoke us more than once, the morning was clear and the air pleasant. The east was beginning to be streaked with the pale red, which betokened immediate sunrise. I walked for some time in various directions on the undulating sands, noting the different views and trying to reach the sea, which, however, I found to be too far off. I visited the group of palms spoken of by travellers, and marked a considerable variety of trees in the gardens beside where we were encamped.

I tried to mark the passage of Israel to the sea from the point of Atdkah, and could not help observing how exactly an east wind would cut the sea just in this very line. (See Exod. xiv. 21.)

The east wind was one of God’s instruments for the division of the sea, just as was also the rod of Moses. (Exod. xiv. 16.) No one thinks that the rod of Moses divided the waters, and that, therefore, there was no miracle, so it is no less idle to maintain that the east wind did so, and that, therefore, there is no need of a greater miracle than a strong east wind could perform. We

the Egyptian army 1 By the time that Israel had crossed, the tide must have flowed, and if their enemies followed, they must have deliberately plunged into deep water, knowing that they would bo drowned. Nothing is really gained either by denying the miracle or trying to reduce it to its niiiiimiitn. To sustain and carry out the disbelief in the one miracle, so many other miracles are required, that only the more credulous class of minds will abandon themselves to the singular delusion.

might as truly nason that there is no intimation of a greater miracle than the rod of Moses could effect. Nay, and we might as well argue that there was no greater miracle in Christ’s opening the eyes of the blind than the skilful use of clay’ could accomplish, and no greater miracle in the raising of Lazarus than a loud voice could work The voice, the clay, the rod, the east wind, are not the standards by which to measure the miracle. The divine power that went along with them did the work; they were but signs pointing the eye to the thing done, and connecting it with the Infinite doer.

The villagers brought us some Ttirquoise from Surahit, for which we gave them a jDiastre or two. The stones were in the matrix, — of a ])right green — genuine enough, but too small to be of any value. One man was busy grinding meal for the day, in the handmill, — that is, two flat circular stones, very much like what was once common enough in Scotland, where the remains of the Quern are often to be met with still. It is at sunrise that the operation begins, and it is the sound of new awakened activity and busy life begun. The “sound of the grinders’’ was “low” certainly, yet the “grinders” had not altogether ceased.” (Eccles. xii. 3, 4.) The one “grinder” whom we saw at his work took away the utter silence, and made music of his own kind to us, in no unpleasant way. There was not the utter desolation elsewhere described by Jeremiah, when he says, “I will take from them the sound of themUl-stone” (Jer. xxv. 10); and by John when he says, “the sound of a mill-stone shall be heard no more at all in thee.” (Rev. xviii. 22.) We did not see women at this AYork, though they seem to have been the chief grinders both in Egypt and in Palestine in other days. Wo read of “the maid-servant that is behind the mill” (Exod. xi. 6); and also that “two women shall be grinding at the mill,” (^.latt. xxiv. 41). It seems, however, to have been a menial office, performed only by the lowest servant in the house; for when Isaiah would paint the degradation of the daughter of Babylon, he says, “take the mill-stones and gi’ind meal.” Samson was set to “grind in the prison-house.” (Judges xvi. 21.) Job says, “let my wife grind unto another,” (xxxL 10). Jeremiah complains, “they took the young men to grind.” (Lam. v. 13.) A mill-stone, from its having a hole in the centre, would be more easily, than any ordinary stone, fastened on to a person or object in order to sink them in water; and hence our Lord’s reference, “it were better that a mill-stone were tied about his neck and that he were cast into the depths of the sea.” (Matt, xviii. G.) The mill-stones which we saw in the desert were small ones; but elsewhere Ave saw very large ones four or five feet in diameter, reminding us of Rev. xviii. 21, “a mighty angel took ujd a stone like a great mill- stone, and cast it into the sea;” and yet even in such pa.ssages the point of the figure does not seem to be so much the size of the stone as its crushing and grinding power, — “on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to poAvdcr.” (Matt. xxi. 44.)

There are some well-cultivated gardens here, with fruits and vegetables, watered by “the wheel.”

This Sahlehy or water-machine, which we often saw in Egypt, is turned by an ox, or by a small horse. We noticed that these animals, when engaged in turnmg the wheel, had their eyes bandaged, and we were told that this was to prevent their becoming blind by the motion. The water is raised out of u deep well by a wheel, whose revolution turns a rope to which earthenware buckets are attached at small intervals. It is jorobably to this wheel and these pitchers, which are necessary appendages to every large house, that Solomon refers, when he compares man to a noble j)alace falling into decay: —

Ere the silver cord be loosed,

Or the golden bowl be broken,

Or the pitcher be broken at the fountain,

Or tiic wheel broken at the cistern. — (Keel. xii. 4.)

These jars em2:)ty themselves into a trough or small reservoir, out of which the water is conveyed in conduits or trenches through the garden or field. In an eastern garden each bed or compartment is surrounded with such a conduit, whose sides being made of earth, can easily be opened at any part to let in water. This is done generally by a hoe, or some such agricultural implement, but occasionally, though rarely, by the hand or foot. I never saw the foot so employed; but I was told it sometimes was. It has been thought that this is the allusion in Deuteronomy (xi. 1 0), “the land, ■wliitlicr thou goest in to possess it, is not as the laud of Egypt, from whence ye came out, where thou sowedst thy seed, and wateredst it with thy foot, as a garden of herbs.” It may perhaps be so, — but the foot is so seldom used in this operation that we suspect the allusion must be to some means of raising water, in which the foot of man was used instead of the ox. The Shadi’ff is used for raising water out of the river to a less height and from a less depth than the SaJcieh. It is merely an upright pole fiistened in the ground, over the top of which, as on a hinge or fulcrum, there is a crosspole, with a rope and a bucket at one end, and a corresponding rope and a heavy stone at the other. Two men, one at the bucket and the other at the stone, work the machine. Another water-machine has been already noticed as used on the Nile. It is simj)ler than either of the above, and used for less heights and depths than the Shadi”’/. It is a kind of basket swung between two men, sitting opposite to each other, at an interval of five or six feet. This looks like sJchnining the water up, and is a chmisy as well as inefficient ])lan.*

We examined the ‘* wells of Moses,” out of which all the water comes, but found them brackish and not remarkably clear. They are dug in the sand, but not regularly l)uilt. Of these Israel drank, — or at least of wells in this neighbourhood, for no where else could

Dr Robinson rof’jj-s to Niobuhr aa giving a description of a SaJbieh at Cairo, which was turned by the foot. This seems tho best illustration of Dout. xi. 10.

112 WAY-MAllKS.

they get water for many miles round. The whole region about is truly what our Lord speaks of, — “dry places,” or more literally “unwatered places.” (!Matt. xiL 43; Luke xi. 2-i.)

“We rode oflf about nine, through a fine large plain; but quite a plain of the desert, — no stream, no verdure; — at first soft sand, then hard gravel, then stones, and all these generally of a white colour. Has Ati’ikah towered upon our right, full in the morning sunshine. No trace of a road appeared; for though the camels do form a track, or rather a number of parallel tracks, yet the drifting sand obliterates them, or the rain washes them out. Still the way-marks are preserved everywhere, — consisting of small heaps of stones set up on each side, which are carefully preserved by the Bedaween; for even they might at times be at a loss as to the way, so great is the sameness of the region, for miles on every hand. Jeremiah’s wux .s came into mind, “Set thee up icayinarks; make thee high heaps, set thine heart toward the high way, even the way which thou wentest,” (xxxi. 21). The sand does not seem to obliterate these, or if it does they are renewed from time to time. They were always a welcome sight to us, assuring us that we were in the right track, for at times we almost began to ask whether even our Arabs were sure of their way; so waste did the desert appear, without a mark or foot-trace of any kind whatsoever.

About four miles fi-om Ayun Mvsa, we crossed Wady Marazah, at least so our Arabs called it, though

WILDERNESS OF SHUB. “I J 3

I observe other travellers speak of crossing Wady er-Rciydneh, or “the wet,” at this point. Then we passed Wady Kurdh iyeh, about two miles farther on. The Ked Sea still continued in sight, sometimes before us, sometimes at our right hand, bright with the gleam of noon, while the piles of Egyptian mountains beyond threw up a ba<:’kground to the view, which gave a finish to the scene, and took off the monotony of the desert.

The way for some time became very stony, while round us there rose an amphitheatre of sand. About four o’clock we got into a syacious plain of hard sand and stone, of which there must have been four or five miles on either side of us. Then came Wady Sddhr, and in the distance on the left Taset Sudhr, or cup of Sildhr, — a somewhat lofty mountain, peaked and slightly flattened at the top.* Sndhi’ and Shu7’ are posi:;il)ly the same; and, if so, then it took its name from the desert, of which we read, “Moses brought Israel from the Red Sea, and they went out into the wilderness oi Shur.” (Exod. XV. 22.) A little way on we crossed a small hollow, like the shallow channel of a stream, from which but recently the rain had been dried up. Here, as well as elsewhere in the desert, that passage came up before us, —

“.My l.retlncn have dcilt deceitfully ns a hrook, As tlic stream of brooks they pass away; What time they wax warm, tlicy vanish: Wlieu it is hot, they uro consumeil out of their place.”

An old traveller speaks of Wady Siidhr as noted for its serpenlt; but wo KIW II cue.

As we were not counting on rain nor depending on the ])ools, we were not in the condition painted in the well-known engraving of “the tlried-up well.” But we could imagine the awful despair of those who wore reckoning on such supplies by the way and were disappointed.

“The troops of Tema looked,
The companies of Sheba waited for them.
They were confounded because they had hoped;
They came thither, and were ashamed.” — (Job vi. 19.)

And yet we could see at the same time the aptness of

the figure, —

“Thou shalt forget thy misery, Thou shalt remember it as waters that pass away.” —

(Job xi. 16.)

About five pitched our tents in ^Yady WarcVm, with a tame and barren scene around us, which our canvas soon shut out.

More than once we had noticed in our early mornings dull masses of cloud in the sky. As the sun got up and gathered strength these all vanished. They did not drift away or pass to a different region of the heavens, — but they vanished on the spot; — such was the absorbing power of the desert-sun. Clouds that would have brought a whole day’s rain in our climate, disappeared. We were reminded of that figure in Job, “As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth envoy, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more” (vii. 9).

Wady Ward’hi, Jan. 19. — Rose about six, and went out to walk upon the broad yiain of sand stretching on every side of our teuts. It was nearly dark, and all was silence; — our Arabs were still asleep, and not a breeze was up to ruffle the still air. There was nothing to see, but there was enjoyment in the solitude, and buoyancy in the fresh dry atmosphere of these boundless sands. The sun rose in splendour, burnishing the rugged peaks in the distance, and coming down with his gay gleam upon our canvas. Returned from my walk before eight. Stood listening to the echoes of a pistol which one of our party was firing. A pistol-shot may seem a poor thing to listen to, — not so its echoes, — its echoes in such a desert! Each far-off cliff took up the sound, — and sent round the response, — as if the Sinaitic peaks and the western ranges of the Red Sea mountains were answering each other across the quiet waves.

How quickly an encampment breaks up, — men, camels, tents, with all appendages, great and small, disappearing, and leaving only some indentations and fragments and ashes behind. One could understand the ease with which the invader of a land might sweep all such away.

“Siuldcnly are my tents spoiled,
My curtains in a moment.” — (Jcr. iv. 20.)

And how true the picture given of the spoiling of the eons of the desert by the king of Babylon, —” Arise ye, go up to Kcdiir,

And sjxjil the men of the East!

Their tents and their flocks shall they take away.

They shall take to themselves their curtains,

And all their vessels, and their camels.” — (.Jer. xlix. 28, 29.)

116 MARKS OF ISRAKL’s KNCUIPMENTS.

Might it not Lo of this suJJcu departure at dawn that Job speaks, —

“Thou slmlt seek me in the morning,
But I am not.” — (Job vii. 21.)

Yet one can trace the places of encampment by their relics, and in the case of such a multitude as Israel, it would be very plain. What a beaten track must they have left behind them. But the one great mark by which they would be recognised, would be the a,shes of the altar and the blood of the sacrifice. Their path through the desert was sprinkled with blood; and this they left as the way-mark, — bearing testimony to all who should look upon it, of the great truth to which their whole service bore witness, that “without shedding of blood was no remission.” But this thought is rather one of anticipation, for though, no doubt, Israel had their altar both in Egypt and when they went out of it; yet when they passed through this region where we then were, their full service was not given.

We set out about half -past eight, — the morning fine, though with a haze of cloud thrown over the sky. On we went across Wacly Warcldn, whose flatness was soon relieved by a lofty peaked cliff to the right, — with the Red Sea and its farther mountains as the background. For hours we traversed a track of stony sand, when one of our camels fell, though with no injury to any one. It is seldom that a camel slips or falls in rough places. His broad spongy foot grasps all the roughnesses, nor do they seem to incommode him, however shar^D. But in “THE STONE OF THE RIDER.” 117

moist clay he cannot move a step, and trembles all over as a horse when attempting to move upon ice. We passed sandy channels, newly dry, intimating a recent fall of rain. Then Jehel-Areghal with its hnge slopes, about one o’clock, — then about two, Hor-EsSudhr, — then Wady-El-Amarah.

And now bcgiins “the OTeat and terrible wilderness” in reality. It is indeed horrible to look upon. There came first towering mounds of rough sand; then stupendous precipices of unformed half-baked rocks in awful confusion and dismay, like the lava of some infernal volcano; while in the distance shot up wild brown spectral mountains, which neither pen nor picture can rightly represent.

Movin<]f through these horrors we came to the ajreat “stone of the rider,” or Ilajlr-er-Blcah, — to which tradition assigns some niche in the history of Moses. The Bedaween seem to reverence it and make it a restino;- place. It is an immense fragment of rock which has fallen from the heights above into the plain, but beyond this it has nothing very notable about it. One sees as nigged boulders in similar positions everywhere among our Scottish hills. All that it did was to illustrate Job xiv. 18, “the rock is removed out of its place,” and to remind us of Bildad’s scornful question, “Shall the earth bo forsaken for thee, and shall the rock be removed out of its pl;ice?” (Jol) xviii..) Wo oxamiiKnl the “Hajir” pretty closely on all sides, and in spite of the horizontal lie of its strata, thought that it was a fallen fragment, and not a rock in its original situation, with its Bofter parts wasted away.

Soon after this we saw somewhat in the distance a figure like a stunted palm making its appearance upon an easy rising ground. “We were told it was Hoicdrah. We soon reached the spot and found two bushy or rather shaggy palms of low stature, with no visible stem, and a bitter well, not remarkable in any way, and of which neither man nor beiist could drink. Somewhere in this neighbourhood was the Marah of Scripture, where the bitter waters were healed by the power of God. (Exod. XV. 23.) I do not say so merely because the waters are bitter, and because the Arabs call them Murrah and Mushtaih. The water of Ayun Musa was also called Murrah or bitter, and no stress can be laid on this. Besides, seeing the waters were sweetened, might we not expect to find not bitter but sweet waters at Marah if we do come upon the ancient wells? But the “three days” from the time of crossing the Red Sea, would bring them to this neighbourhood. (Numb, xxxiii. 8.) It took us but two days to reach it; but they, with their flocks and their little ones, could not move so fast as we did.* Besides, the time required to reach again the

* Yet the statement of Moses in Deut. i. 2, would indicate a rate of travelling quite as rapid as ours, — “there are eleven days’ journey from Hoi-eb, by the way of Mount Seir, unto Kadesh-Barnea.” Let Kadesh-Barnea be placed on the most southerly of the sites which have been assigned to it, still it would take eleven daj’s’ hard travelling to reach it. We doubt if any dragoman would undertake it in less than twelve.

led Sea after they left Marali and Elim corresponds to bis; for from the statement m Numbers (xxxiii. 10) it rould appear that one day’s journey brought them from iUm to the Red Sea, on their way to Sinai, which coresponds exactly with the distance between the two loints. The Marah of Scripture could not be much irther on than Hoivdrah, else Israel could not have cached it in threedays, so that it must have been not lx from this very palm-crowned hillock of sand, if not ctually here. I cut off a palm-brancli in memory of he spot to exhibit at home as a relic of Marah, — a relerabrance of Israel’s murmurings and God’s unwearied 3ve.

Lepsius (with others of the same class) sets aside the liracle of Marah, and tells us that it was by means of ome fruit, or peel of a shrub, that Moses, quite in a latural way, made the bitter water drinkable; and as 10 such amount of peel could be got at Howarah, he ;ives this chiefly as his reason for placing Marah at jhurandel. But at this day, many as are the shrubs f the green Ghurandel, there are none that will sweeten pitter water; and certainly it would take an enormous .mount of peel to sweeten water for two millions. As 0 the recipe of the Ghurhhl berries, on which some ely f(jr their escape from the miracle, it is a mere raveller’s invention, unknown to Arab or any one else n the desert. All Lepsius’ peel and Burckhardt’s )erries would do little for such a multitude. One wonlers at Dr Robiuson’s favour towards such childish

credulity. (Vol. l p. 98.) Mr Stauley keeps silence. He mentions the place but not the miracle. Yet the miracle was no common one, and the narrative is one of singular simplicity and beauty, — summed up in these solemn words, which are mere mockery, if not founded on a mighty miracle,” There he made for them a statute and an ordinance, and there he proved them and said, li thou wilt diligently hearken to the voice of the Lord thy Cod, and wilt do that which is right in his sight.. I will put none of these diseases upon thee which I have brought upon the Egyptians, for I AM Jehovah THAT

HEALETH THEE.” (Exod. XV. 26.)

Soon after this we came to an immense ylain of hard rocks. The mountains which bounded it were truly magnificent. Their numerous summits seemed not sc much peaks as sy)ikes or tall spires of rock, which neithei Arab nor Gazcllah could climb, and which even the eagle might fear to alight upon. Their vast sides which slojDed down at a considerable angle to the plair through which we were passing, were all furrowed anc cut up, — not by ravines, — but by enormous quarries which seem to have been dug, side by side in successioi for miles. Horrid splits appeared in all directions, as i something more terrible than gunpowder had been employed to blast the rocks. It was well named a “terribL wilderness” (Deut viii. 15), a “land of deserts and o PITS,” (Jer. ii. 6). I thought that, often as I ha( looked upon the wild mountains of Scotland, I ha( never before seen “ragged rocks.” (Isa. ii. 21.) Th’

raggedness” of Almarah is far beyond anything in ylencoe, though the heights of the mountains may be Quch the same. The whole scene is one of the most nagnificent desohition and unmingled terror.

M ore than once we had seen (not to-day only, but on »ther days) our Arabs looking for the shadow, and glad rhen they saw it beginning to lengthen. Their desire ras not like ours, to see, and note, and learn by the yay, but simply to get their day’s work done.

“As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow,

And an hireling looketh for the reward of his work.” — (Job vii. 2.) “Turn from him that he may rest, Till he shall accomplish as an hireling his day.’” — (Job xiv. 6.)

Since leaving Wady Sudhr, yesterday, the ground las continued gradually to rise, hour after hour; but owards sunset to-day we began to deseud into Wady Thurandel, which is a sweet oasis in the desert, — overed with trees of all kinds, and fertilized by a tream, which retains the falling showers longer than aost similar ones, and raises enough of verdure to feed ome Arab flocks. About seven we pitched our tents, n the midst of the tarfa-trees, under a bright moon. iVe could not see the extent of the valley, but we saw ‘erdure waving round us. It was a relief to pass out of I. laud of horrors, such as we had been all day traversing, nto a spot of milder aspect, — and withal, so rich and jrcen.

Wndy Ghurandel, Jan. 20. — Went out about seven “or a quiet hour. The birds were chirping in the tarfa-trees, some of which were fifteen or eighteen feet high, and were giving out a pleasant fragrance. These birds were not the desert fowls called quails, which we frequently met with in small flocks, — not among trees, but in the more barren plains of the desert. The palm-trees were without number. I began to count them, but having reached the eightieth, I desisted. They extend for more than a mile and a half down the VVady, and must amount to several hundreds, at the lowest estimate.* Most of them have four or five stems shooting up from one root. They have been goodly trees, as the prostrate trunks shewed, but have been cut down clean by the ground, and the present forest is made up of shoots, which gives a stunted and shaggy appearance to the whole. The palm, like the olive, seems, when cut over, to send up new shoots or suckers, so that we saw several stems coming up from one root. Often were we reminded of the words of Job, —

“There is hope of a tree,
When it has been cut down,
That it will sprout again,
And that its shoots will not cease.
Though its roots wax old in the earth,
And its trunk die in the ground;

Mr Stanley writes, — “In 1853, I counted twenty at Useit and m at Ghurandel.” {Sinai and Palestine, p. 27.) If so, he must have merely sl-irted the Wady; he could not have traversed it. I counted the palma with seme care more than once, and noted down the numbers; nor did I stop till I had gone beyond the “three score and ten.” Those that counted vere all within a quarter of a mile of each other.

Through the scent of water it will bud,

And put forth boughs like a (fresh grown) plant.”* —

(Job xiv. 7-9.)

From a pretty deep cutting in the channel of the ream, (which the Arabs call a Ji’<rf), effected by le rush of the torrent, it would seem that the soil is ravelly for many feet beneath the sand. I thought I as alone; but suddenly, at the opening between some ilm-trees, came uj)on a Bedaween encampment, consting of about half-a-dozen men and camels, with one

two women and children. The morning was quite le of Sabbath quiet. Yes; it was Sabbath in the 3sert, — Sabbath among the jialms of Elini! For there ems little doubt that this is really Ellin. It is a stage jyond !Marah, and a day’s journey from the Red Sta, — ist as Scripture represents. It lies in Israel’s route. It just a spot for them to encamp in. If this be not lim, there is no other spot on which the name can be !ced, which so exactly suits the distances, or to which le peculiar features so well apply. If this be not lim, then Elim must have vanished from the desert, id this new oasis risen since the days of Israel. The ireescore-and-ten palms have multiplied into hundreds; lit the twelve wells have diminished, and the shallow

“Hope of a trco” is literally “exiioctation,” and inny probably refer it 80 much to nmn’s hope about a tree, a.s, bj’ a figure, to tho tree’s ipo alpout itsi’lf, corrcsjiondiriij to Rom. viii. 19, 20, “the cnnicst cvpec lion of the creature,” and “subjected the same in hope.” Tliia resurction of the tree is accomplished oven by tho “scent of water;” and uly moat of the dosort-troes socmod to live upon nothing more.

124) MARAH AND ELLM.

excavations, which now get the name of wolls, are scant and brackish springs. There is a considerable amoun of running water at one part, which calls up vcrdui all along its margin, though it is not altogether fresl This small stream winds along among palms and tarfr for some miles. It flows westward, and fulls into tli Red Sea.* In Israel’s days the water was probahl sweeter, though nothing is said in Scripture as to this. ] is only implied that it was sufficiently sweet and copioi to furnish drink to the thirsty multitude. Pleasar beyond measure must have been this valley, after 5 many days of weary travel; for though the pillar-cion sheltered them from the scorching sun, still it did n( make up to them for the want of verdure and fres streams.

Marah and Elim! How near they lie to each othei Thus near to each other are the bitter and the sweet 1 life, the sorrow and the joy of time! Both in the sau desert, and oftentimes following each other in the pr gross of one day or hour. The bitter too is first, — ar

* The curious old journal of the Egyptian Prefetto, published by t Bishop of Clogher in 1753, speaks of Ghurandcl (or Garondo as it is the called) as being Marah, not Elim. The testimony to the beauty of t Wady is very explicit. It is called a “delicious place;” and the folio ing description is given: — “There are in this place ma nj, palm-trees, a in the bottom of the vale is a rivulet flowing from the aforemention mountain, the water of which is tolerably good and in sufficient pleu but is not free from some hitterness, though it is very clear.” P. 15. 1 deed, it would seem that when water comes up from or in any way pi colates through the desert sand, it becomes unpleasant. It is only wh it comes fresh from the rook as in Sinai that it is altogether pure.

WORSHIP AT ELDf. J 25

hen the sweet. Nut first Elim and then Marah; bub !tlarah first and then Elim, — first the cloud, then the ;unshine, — first the wearinesSj then the rest! la token )f this we broke ofif a small branch of palm from one of hese Elim trees, and laying it on the siu7ilar branch which we had brought from jllarah, we tied them ;ogether, to be kept in peryetual memorial, not merely )f the scenes, but of the truth which they so vividly ;each.

After breakfast and prayers I sat foi- an hour or two n the teut reading, comparing passages, and noting lown texts for friends at home. The heat, however, was great, and the noise of the Bedaween tongues broke :he Sabbath-calm; so we went out about twelve to the palm-trees for shady quiet and also for worship. A prostrate palm-log was our first seat; but the shade (was insufficient. So we removed to another spot where two bushy palms, forming a sort of angle and waving their long feathers over us, gave us complete shelter. rhere we worshipped together the Lord God of Israel, in the place where his people had done so, more than three thousand years ago. We sang the hundredth psalm, “All people that on earth do dwell;” we read the 35th of Isaiah, “the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom a.H the rose;” the sul)ject of our discourse was Isaiah xlviii. 21, “they thirsted not when he led them through tlic desert.” Often did the words of the prophets respecting the days to come recur to us while

musing here, — surrounded with some tokens of verdure in the desert. These palms and tamarisks are hut the earnest of the promised fruitfulness. God will yet clothe these sands, and rocks, and naked hills. The “times of the restitution of all things” (Acts iii. 21) will do great things for these wastes. The wilderness shall become a fruitful field, and ^h’> fniitful field (such as Elim) will be counted for a forest, and esteemed as nothing in comparison with the far fresher ve.rd’ire which shall cover the whole scene. Then shall, coioo to pass what is written,

“I will plant in the wilderacss The cedar, the shittah-tree, and the myrtle and the oiI-tree«i I will set in the desert The fir-tree, and the pine, and the box-tree together.”

(Is:i. xli. 19.)

This scanty stream and these poor wells may suflfice for the wandering Bedaween or the passing traveller now, but they shall be as mere drops in the day when God renews the earth and fulfils his old promise to the desert;

“I will open rivers in high places,
And fountains in the midst of the valleys;
I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
And the dry land springs of water.” — (Isa. xli. 18.)

And again,

“In the wilderness shall waters break out;
Yea, streams in the desert.” — (Isa. xxxv. G.)

Looking on a scene such as that before us, it seemed altogether natural to understand these words literally.

No doubt it may he allegorized (for what is there in Scripture that may not be subjected to this prooess, seeing the first chapter of Genesis and the first of Matthew have been turned into myths?); a natural change may be the apt figure of a moral change; but it is so only because it is itself a real thing. The physical restoration must be literal, in order that it may he the figure of a spiritual renewal. Adam was le figure of Him who was to come because he was a real man, — literally what Scripture says he was. So the renewing of the barren sands may be a figure of man’s regeneration to God, but it is so in virtue of itself being literally true. And why should it be thought an incredible thing that God should literally restore creation? Why should it be counted uulikely that Arabia should become like Syria, a region of streams and showers, a land of roses and myrtles, — that the wilderness should flourish as the garden of the Lord? Who shall hinder that

“this earth
Shall all be Paradise, far happier place
Than that of Eden, and far happier days?” *

For “He turneth the wilderness into a standing water, and dry ground into water-springs; and there he maketh the hungry to dwell, that they may prepare a city for habitation, and sow the fields, and plant vineyards, which may yield fruits of increase.” (Ps. cvii. 35.)

Milton’s Vn.r. liont.