Mukatteb — Serbal — Wady Feiran — The Tomb — Ruins — Hummam — The Palm — Wady Sheikh
Wachj Mukatteh, Thursday, Jan. 24. — Rose before seven, — the moou still bright; — a lovely scene, — the white tents, the yellow sands, the dark cliffs, — the blue Leavens! But dawn is preparing to begin, and on the western sky the glow of the east is already seen, for in the desert I have noticed that sunset throws its soft purjjle over the east, and sunrise gives its gay blush to the west. The peaks of Mukatteb have taken on the redness long before the rays have reached the bottom of a valley so hemmed in on every side.
llad a quiet walk; my morning psalm was the thirty-second. I met our sheikh on his dromedary. He had set off last night and crossed the hills towards the east to visit his wife and family, who had their dwelling some ten or twelve miles off. He had travelled all night, and was nnw returning to his duties as our guide. Behind liini rode his .son, a nice little Arab boy of ten years old, by name Mu.sa Anjuud our breakfast-table we noticed some birds, slyly making advances, to pick up ou crumbs. We bad not indeed found the desert altogether void of life. Flocks of pigeon-looking birds which we are told are quails, occasionally met us. A few small birds, black and white in colour, somewhai bigger than sparrows, hopped among the bushes. Auc everywhere we found the raven. It seems to have it; haunt in every cliff and valley. We wondered how oi where these birds found food for themselves in sucl utter wastes. Certainly here “they neither sow noi reap,” they neither have “storehouse nor barn.” Yei they are fed; though what they feed upon we could noi say, save that they hovered round our tents of a morning, waiting our departure, to secure all that might b( left of the fragments. Possibly they feed upon the anti and beetles which burrow in these sands. It was quit( a bird suited to be Elijah’s purveyor; and often did th( story of the prophet at the brook of Cherith occur to ui (1 Kings xvii. 4, 6). More than once I came betweei the raven and the pistol. It was once the prophet’i fiiend, and as such I did not like seeing any one tryiuc to compass its death.
We started at half-past eight, our way lying south east. As we rode out of the valley we saw a good man more inscriptions, both on the face of the low cliffs, anc also on some large blocks lying on the sand. Some o these were very distinct, We moved onwards, stil ascending, Serhdl before us in his rugged grandeur At the end of the wady we came to a narrow defile, —
GRAVE OF Ais t,NGLISflMAN. 17 J)
rough and rocky, — through which we were to descend into Wady Feirdn. As we wound slowdy through the defile, ])Lack peaks came up on the left, and huge yellow precipices overhung our right. Farther on we were met by a long line of terraces and peaks, — white, black, red, and yellow. At half-past ten we turned to the left and entered Wady Feirdn, wdiich at its commencement is not unlike Wady MiikatUh, in its general aspect On the left the hills were black, on the nghx; yellow. The sun was without a cloud and the heat intense. Just at this spot our dragoman came up to us to point out the grave of “the English minister,” — Mr Ewbank of Liverpool, who had died here above a year ago. Our dragoman had met his widow at Howarah, returning homewards, leaving her husband’s dust behind her in the wdlderncss. The grave was on the side of a mound of sand or rough soil, such as abound here. No tree, no flower! No stone nor epitaph. No mourner to sit down and weep. IIow solitary did it seem; — and how sad to die and be buried here! An oppressive sense of loneliness seemed to come over us as we looked at the unmarked tomb, and then turned our camels’ heads to journey slowly onwards. What should hinder that our grave might be as lonely as this? The desert was all around us. Fritjnds were three thousand miles away. Our own life was but a vapour. Yet He who ia “the resurrection and the life” is in this desert as truly ius in our own loved land. He has his eye upon the dust of his saints here as well as in uur own church-
1 80” THE CLOUDLESS SKY.
yards, where the united in life are joined together li death. Only Arab dust may hitherto have rested here but the first resuiTection will find its objects in many; strange spot and amid unexpected company.* Yet no has not Israel been here? And is not the dust of mam a believing Israelite sleeping beneath these sands?
Thy dead ones shall live,
My dead body shall they arise,
Awake and sing, ye dwellers in the dust:
For thy dew is as the dew of herbs,
And the earth shall cast out the dead.” — (Isa. xxvi. 19.)
A pleasant breeze here met us, and mists coming over the sun, the day was kept cool. In the desert W( often had this slight and almost imperceptible haze but the genuine cloud more seldom. The enormouicumuli, which, like mountains, stand out in our northeri sky, and give us such gorgeous sunsets, are not so oftei seen here. There seems no medium between a sky al black with clouds, “like a dark ceiling,” which is rare and a sky either wholly cloudless or lined Avdth a thii gauze of mist, which is very common, and seems in fac the natural result of the intense heat. We praise th( “cloudless clime,” and speak of it as the perfection of land. But often did I long for the clouds of the north
* The first part of the following fine epitaph would not be needed here while the latter would suit well : —
Exutus morte,
Hie, licet in occiduo cinere
Aspicit Eum,
CujuiS nomen est Oriens.
THE “CUCUMIS COLOCYNTIIUS.” 181
not merely because of their shade, but because of the beauty and the grandeur which they impart to the sky. A sky perpetually without clouds is like a country without hills.
The wady continued level and spacious, runniDg south-east by east, perhaps from a quarter of a mile to half a mile wide. It is sandy and bare, though we fall in with the tarfa and seyaleh here and there. At twelve o’clock we still find ourselves -winding along the wady, walled in by enormous black peaks, those on the right apparently a sort of micaceous schist. A little way on we jncked “iip the fruit called Hamdiiall by the Arabs, — or “cucuuiis colocynthus” by botanists. It grows like a gourd, its slender branches runninsf alonsf the sand. Its size is that of a good orange, smooth and yellow in its rind. It is bitter and poisonous. Great quantities are exported to England for medicinal purposes. Whether this is the “wild gourd” shred into the pot l)y the servant of the prophet at Jericho, is doubtful. We shall see what the plain of Jordan contains before giving judgment.
Still the same wild hills, with strange black seams or dykes, running down their slopes at intervals of ten yards or so. These streaks ujjon the bare mountainflank.s come out with striking effect in a land whose rocks have not a vestige of verdure to cover their nakedness. About two o’clock saw another inscription on the right, (juite the same as the Mukatteb ones, but rather indi-stinct on account of the hardness of the rock and the consequent difficulty of carving. About three, we jDassed a wady which my Arab called Wadij Khcsr, to the left, where we saw some seyalehs. A little way farther we passed another “Mukatteb” inscription, to the left, on hard rock. The wady still continued to wind round immense mountains of trap, covered with debris and sloping right down to the sand of the valley. Aboul four we passed more “Mukatteb” inscriptions to the left on some large blocks of granite; and at another turn o: the wady we came to five or six, full and distinct, or granite rocks, some low down, others {ilr up. Hen Serh(U, with its five rugged spires, came full in view frowning down upon us. The magnificence of its peaks and crags is truly Alpine. And now the wady becomei more fruitful; its shrubs becoming larger and finer some palms too beginning to shew themselves. W< noticed a curious prickly tree, like a brier or thorn which our Arabs called Aoshadh. Prickly shrulis ar( beginning to appear in greater numbers; — but of all o them the camels greedily cat. A thorn-tree or a Scotcl thistle is not half so sharp or strong in its prickles, ye the camels browse on them as if they were soft grass nor do their mouths suffer in the least. Even with i thick glove we should rather fear to touch them, — thi camel opens his mouth and crushes a whole bunch o them. It almost looked as if he were crunching nail.’ These prickly bushes are used by the Arabs for thei fires; and they send up a quick and lofty blaze, whicl sometimes threw its red gleam over a hundred rocb
Yet they called to mind the “primal curse,” — “thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee” (Gen. iii. 18); at the same time telUng of the time when “the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose” (Tsa. xxxv. 1); when “instead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle-tree” (Isa. Iv. 18).
But the next turn to the left was certainly worth the taking. It brought us to some hundreds of noble palms, — in a lovely hollow like a garden, or as we might call it, a palm-orchard. It was
“A palm-grove islanded amid the waste.”
Inclosing it were lofty hills, at the foot of which ran mud-walls in all directions, forming the garden enclosures of the Bedaween who reside here for several months in the year. Here we first saw the Nuh’k-tree, not unlike a damson in appearance. Its fruit was just ripening, and our Arabs plucked it eagerly both for us and for themselves, as we halted our camels for a little under its grateful shade. The nub’k in size is like a cherry, in taste like a dry sweet apple. The sound of young voices came pleasantly through the trees; and we soon met Arab children, some gambolling, some loitering, some gazing, .somf; driving a flock of goats with a long wand, cut probably from some neighbouring tar/a, and some ])laying upon a rustic reed, which was certainly tenuis uvena. Not far off were their tents, — the ‘’ black tents of Kedar” (P.sa, cx.. 5; Song i, 5), —
Avliicli seemed made of camel’s hair, and also, as our dragoman informed us, of “slieep-hair.” About five o’clock we passed another inscription on the left, carved on a smooth block of granite on the mountain-side.
We now reached the ruins of the convent and village. Perched upon the very top of one of the most rugged hills to the left, was an old building quite brokcD to iieccs, and evidently commanding no common landscape of peak, rock, sand, valley, garden, streamlet, a wonderful combinatioa in such a wilderness, — while down the sides were stones, and walls, and gateways, and caverns, and curious-looking holes in the rock, bott natural and artificial. These we explored to some extent, though after all, we found nothing which we had not seen from the foot. On the right the ruins are very extensive, chiefly occupying a central hillock oi off-shoot of the cliff. Here were fragments of carvec stones, round tapering heads of the convent columns relics of pottery, bricks, fragments of walls, filled-uj reservoirs, pipes running under ground for conveying water. These last. Sheikh Suliman, who guided Ui through the different parts, informed us were for th( Humma’ni* or«hot-water springs, which are found here Our tents had gone before us, so that, when we hac finished our survey, we hastened after them, and abou half-past five reached them, — all ready for our reception amid a grove of palms, with the mighty Serbd
* The editor of the Egyptian Prefetto’s Journey, asks whether it is fron this word that warm baths were once called “Hummin” in England.
luoking down behind the rock-wall of the wady upon our encampment. In walking about we came upon the well, where we found our Arabs, with the help of the “villagers,” watering both themselves and the camels. We made them draw for us, which they did by letting down the “skin” at the end of a long rope. To our surprise the water was warm, — though fresh and sweet. The whole valley is well watered as its verdure shews, — not the verdure of grass as with us, — you don’t see that in the desert, save round a well or a rill, — scantily either in Kg3’pt or Palestine; — nor the verdure of forest-trees, tlR’se are only kno^Ti in the well-watered regions of Lebanon, or Tabor, or the “hill-country” of Judah; — but the verdure of palms and tamarisks, — such vegetation as is sufficient to feed the Arab and his camel. The palm-trees here are said to amount to about a thousand, — a good many of them belonged to our sheikh, who seemed rather proud of his leafy possessions. For it is the tree and not the ground that has an owner. The latter belonged to no man in special. It was the common property of the tribe. But the former were all parcelled out among individuals, so that our sheikh was a “landed proprietor” as far as any one can have such a name in the desert, where the land belongs to all. We saluted him here accordingly as one of the lords of “the soil,” or at least of the trees, — changing his name from that (if “sheikh” into the Scottish one of “laird,” an<l explaining to him the meaning of the change. He smiled not a little at being addressed in this way, — es-IX’cially when in the course of the evening we invited inin to take coffee with us, and treated him as one of the “gentry of the land.” He sat at our table for more than half an hour, we speaking English to him and he Arabic to us, neither of us of course understanding a word. Like all his fellows of the desert he was skilful in signs, and would have made just such a professor as James the Sixth is said to have been at a loss for, when requested by some foreign ambassador to produce his professor of signs. In speaking, an Englishman uses only his tongue and lips; a Frenchman adds his shoulders, for the sake of significancy; but an Arab throws in his hands and arms as part of the conversation; and these are made to move in harmony with every word he utters, more or less rapidly and violently according to the nature of the discourse. Even when speaking to his neighbour, an eastern adds signs of the most expressive nature, as we saw once when our dragoman, scolding his servant for some supposed fault, which it is likely he had not committed, sent the frying-pan at his head, which “sign” went whizzing past our tents, making us perfectly to understand a transaction which otherwise would have been quite without meaning. So wiis il with our sociable sheikli; — all his words came forth with signs, which were often very vigorous and vivid, — as hands, limbs, face, body, all were put in motion, and pointed to us or to himself, to trees, tents, rocks, sky. sand, or stars, were made to interpret the eloquence which came forth from his swarthy but kindly lips. Foi lever did we see a “sion” of ansfer or Lear a rouoh one from him, either to us or to his fellows. Our dragoiian, though civil enough to us, seemed always in a )assion with the Arabs, and even with his own servants, nd how Sheikh Suliman kejit in good terms with him was a wonder to us. The good nature of the Arab was )erhaps more than a match for the hot spirit of the iroud Egyptian. The half hour with the sheikh over ur coffee was an interesting one to us, as he was so bliging in shewing us everything connected with himelf, his dress, his weapons, &c. Nothing stronger than offee did he taste; — even our tea he
did not relish; — [lick black coffee was his beverage. No wine nor spirits, or strong drink of any kind, did these sons of the desert uste. It is not only against their habits but against heir religion. The law of Mahomet forbids it, and like lie sons of Rechab, these followers of the prophet keep lie ancient law of their faith. 0lu- dragoman was an xception, who drank freely when he could; but he wasn Egyjjtian, and seemed to be as much an inlidel as a lahommedan.
I wandered out in the starlight, for the moon had not isen. Starlight among the palms of the desert! How x(iui.site! There were our tents in the bottom of the ecp glen or cup of rock, perhaps a mile in diameter; s sides shooting up a thou.sand feet above us, and tcrlinating in fantastic spires. There were the tall palms, lith stems immov(;able, like an obelisk, but with gently.’aviijg branches, on w1lo.sg feathery leaves the stars crowded and sparkled like dewdrops. But now the moon has risen, for it is about ten o’clock. The stars gi’ow dim, but the bright moonshine throws itself over the scene, — gleaming through the palm-leaves, and silvering the rugged peaks, over the highest of which rests the north star, reminding us of peace and home.
Here Jcthro may have fed his flock with ]Ioses as his associate, and Israel must have rested on their way to Sinai I do not mean that this is the “wilderness of Paran,” as many have written, deceived by the sound of the name. Paran lay immediately south of Palestine, at least two hundred miles from this, and by no straining either of imagination or geography can the desert of Paran be made to extend to this spot. But this was their route to the mount of God, and lay adjacent to the region of Horeb. Over this hollow once floated the wondrous cloud, — a shelter by day and a sun by night On these very peaks its glory rested, forming a canopy or dome of gold (brighter than that of Omar or St Sophia), which roofed in this rocky temple and lighted up the tents of Israel as they lay scattered among these palms.
Wady Feirdn, Friday, Jan. 25. — Before seven found myself strolling among the palms and tarfas. The moon was above one peak, the morning-star above another, while day-spring was taking possession of a thhd, — Serbal looking sternly down through a defile upon the solitude. The day came up, and I jjursued my walk up the steep slopes to the north, among the broken walls, — still-standing door-ways, and cave-like holes in wliicli I could see nothing, but which once seemed to have been the abodes either of the dead or living, most probably of the latter, when men forgetting that God has already made peace through the cross of his Son, tried to make their peace with him, and to win a name among their fellowmen, by living the life of worms or wild-beasts in these wretched dens, neglecting every duty and breaking every tie of kindred. These ruins, which belong to the fifth or sixth century, did not awaken much interest, as the story of the misguided triflers who dwelt there was not one which told of faith, or zeal, or love, or self-denying deeds, in behalf of a needy world. Our thoughts went back to ages, long before their first stone was laid, — the ages when Amalek possessed this region, and when Israel, marching through it, met and overthrew his hosts. There is no proof indeed that this was Rephidim, — nay proof that it was not Rephidim, for there must always have been water here, so that Israel could not have lacked it, as we read that they did at Rephidim. But their next stage from this must have been Rephidim, — and to that we are now proceeding. But before doing so, let us read the holy narrative. “And all the congregation of the children journeyed from the wilderness of Sin” (which they entered when they left Elim, Exod. xiv. 1), “and pitched in Rephidim, and there was no water for the people to drink” (Exod. xviL 1). Up till the time when they reached Rephidim they had uo lack of water, — so that they must have left Wady
Feiran and been a day’s march on their way to Sinai before the “chiding with Moses” took place. (Exod. xvii. 2). The region on which they entered at Rephidim is called Horeb (Exod. xvii. 6), or the wilderness of Sinai (Exod. xix. 1, 2), and appears to have been wholly destitute of water.
We started about nine, feeling sure our halting-place would be somewhat near Rephidim, for next day was to bring us to Sinai The air was chill, but as the wady was rather rough, we did not walk, but kept to our camels. The road winds like a princely avenue through palms and tarfas, some of the former very tall and stately. Though the sun had been up an hour, and every ridge was flushing with his radiance, the lower part of the valley had not received a single beam, so lofty is the wall of rock with which the ba.^in is built in. We came abruptly, at a turn, in fidl view of Serbdl, every peak quivering with the sunshine. Between it and us there seemed only a low range of hills. Here we saw some ruins on a height, no doubt part of the great monastic establishment of Feiran.
But of all the thousands of monks that once idled away their days upon these heights, not one remains. They have yerished, without any monument save the crumbling stone, or the crag of the desert, or the hole of the rock. Desolation! Yes; but how different the picture of eastern from that of western desolation! Few of Ossian’s lig-ures would suit here. What Arab, even
OSSIAN AND joe’s PICTURES. 191
be most poetical, could understand such a scene as tte jllowing; —
I have seen the walls of Balclutha,
But they were desolate!
The voice of the people is heard no more.
The thistle shook there its lonely head,
The moss wliistled to the wind,
The fox looked out from the windows.
The rank grass of the wall waved round its head.
Desolate is the dwelling,
Silence is in the house of her fathers.
lore apt and intelligible to an eastern is Job’s picture —
Tho’ his excellency mount up to the heavens,
And his head reach unto the clouds;
He shall perish for ever like his dung.
They who saw him shall say, Where is he?
He shall fly away as a dream.
He shall not be fund.
Yea, he shall be chased away
As a vision of the night.
The eye which saw him shall see him no more.
Never again .shall his place behold iiini. — (Job xx. 6.)
His place shall deny him,
(Saying) I have not seen him. — (Job viii. 18.)
At one part the winter-torrent had cut deep into the Boil, some three or four feet, and in doing so had laid bare a complete side-section of the roots of a palm. We fx.’iniinod these with great intcre.st, as they are quite iiiiliki’ any other troc-root.s we bad seen, and peculiarly fitted to ab.sorb every (hi)|) of moisture that the sand contains. In general form and structure they put us in mind of the dahlia and ranunculus, — consisting of long fleshy strings or ropes shooting straight down into the soil, in numbers quite beyond reckoning, and extending over a large circle, whose ^^^dth we could not asaertain, but which, as in the case of other trees, corresponds probably to the width of the circle formed by the branches above. What an apparatus for drawing up the moisture of the desert, so that not a drop is allowed to slip away! Casting the eye up from that wondrous network of roots to the long green tresses above, ever fresh and verdant, the “psalm or song for the Sabbath-day” comes to recollection.
The Eightcous One sh.ill flourish like the palm-tree, He shall grow like a cedar of Lebanon.
For the time spoken of is the day when God shall raise up to Israel “a plant of renown” (Ezek xxxiv. 29); and it is that “plant of name,” that “branch of Jehovah” (Isa. iv. 2; xi. 1), that “righteous branch,” (Jer. xxiii. 5) that is then to flourish like the palm-tree. Around Him are gathered the “trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord” (Isa. lxi. 8).
Those that are planted in the house of Jchovali,
In the courts of our God, shall flourish.
They shall continue to bear fruit in old age,
They shall be fat and green.
But how great must be the droufdit when that desolation comes to pass, — “the ijolm-tree and the apple-tree, even all the trees of the field are withered” (Joel. i. 12.) of all eastern trees the palm is most useful. The apple is inly for fruit, it is not “meet for any work” (Ezek. xv., 5), and if it fails in its fruitfulness, it is fit only for he fire; a true figure of Israel and of the church, useful •nly when fulfilling their office of fruit-bearing (John :v. 6). But the uses of the palm-tree are very numeous; not a part of it but is turned to some purpose. ;ts rough trunk we used to see in Cairo cast across a Utch for a bridge. Under its feathery foliage we had )ften sat down for shade. Its fruit we were enjoying svery day, the stones of which are sent to be ground or food to camels. Its leaves formed the baskets, ;reat and small, in which our oranges and fowls were nounted for conveyance. The shavings and thin yellow ibres formed the sponge which was laid down along with soap in our baths at Alexandria. Its sap forms lie spirit called arrak, which the abstemious monks ise at Sinai. Besides all this, its branches are cut lown to be the ensigms of joy and triumph, for with hese Israel was commanded to cover their booths in hat most joyful of all their feasts, the feast of taberlacles, when they were to “rejoice before the Lord even days” (Lev. xxiii. 40). With the figures of these he gold of “the holiest” was carved (1 Kings vi. 29), md the “wall of the house round about” (2 Kings vi. 19), and “the two dours” of the temple (2 Kings vi. 3’), md “the lodges and borders of the bases” (2 Kings vii. 50), and the golden “ceiling of the greater house” (2 Jhron. iii. o). On all y)arts of Ezekiel’s temple, which s in reserve for the d;iy of Israel’s glory, the palm-tree is seen, — on the “posts” (xl. 16), on the southern gate (xl. 26), on the eastern gate (xL S-i), on the north gate (xl. 37), on the doors and windows everywhere (xli. IS, 19, 20, 25, 2G). For great and marvellous will be the triumph of that day. It was “branches of palms” that the people took, when bidding welcome to the King of Zion (John xii. 13). And with this same emblem the triumphant multitude appears, — “I beheld and lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and PALMS IN their hands.” (Rev. vii. 9.)* As we advanced the valley widened and the palm-trees disappeared. AVe have passed out of the circle of the oasis, and the desert is now as arid and sterile as before. The verdure has disiippeared. Only the tarfas can live hero, with a few of the usual shrubs; and these only in the lower yarts, not on the slopes. We are approaching Horeh or the “burnt region,” and coming to the place where Israel “found no water to drink” (Numb, xxxiii. ]4), and where Amalek came out to fight with them. (Exod. xvii, 8). The mountains are beginning to be less sheer in their descent, and the peaks somewhat less abrupt. About eleven we came to a narrow pass, at the entrance of which, on the right,
* The tabernacle had ao palm-trees graven auywhei-e; for it was the fire of the Church’s pilgi-im-state, whereas the temple is the emblem of the day of triumph and reigning. Neither had the veil palm-trees woven into it, for it was the emblem of the flesh of Christ (Ueb. x.), and it was 1.0 be “i-eut.” as the flesh of Christ was to be broken.
WADY-ESH-SliElKil. 195
pon a mass of granite, is a faint “Mukatteb” inscrip- .on.
A little after eleven we entered Wady-esh-Sheikh, or royal valley,” as it might be rendered. The name re-Z’mbles that of the valley of Shavch hard by Jerusalem, ‘hich was called ^mc/j-lTammeZe/i;, or “king’svale” (Gen. iv. IS). It may get its name from its being one of be largest and most princely of all the peninsular radies, or from its having been the abode of some great ribe, as of the Amalekites,of whom it is said, “Amalek is HE HE.U) of the nations” (Numb. xxiv. 20); for the Lmalokites seem to have been a mighty people, occupyig a large territory in the northern as well as the Duthern district of the desert, and their king probably be chief of the desert-tribes. Or perhaps it might be rom Jethro, who was pre-eminently the sheikh of this istrict. No doubt the tradition is, that it was so called rom the Moslem Sheikh Salch, but one is not obliged 0 believe all ]lrahommedan traditions.
Wiubjcsh-Sheikh opens with a pretty wide circle, overed with tarfas and shrubs of the common desertlas.s. On our right, shooting up over a huge mountain-,’all, Scrh’H peers down on us in majesty, like a watchower, commanding the whole stretch of the wilderness. ‘hree shrubs are specially noticed here, the DjerHm, lie Rhn’th, and the llllt’in or JRithem, the two former i-agrant, tin- last a Kpceifs of broom, with a small white lower, streaked with pink. It is translated “juniper” li our version, but it lias uo resemblance to that shrub
whereas the Hebrew word Rothem, as ilkistrated by the Arabic Ritt’m, shews us what it is. It was under this tree that Elijah sat down to take shelter from the heat (1 Kings xix. 5); and more than once did we do the same, — for some of these shrubs are bushy and tall, perhaps eight or ten feet high. They formed a shadow sometimes from the heat, sometimes from the wind, and sometimes from the rain, — both for man and beast. We could not just say of these what the prophet (lid of the trees of the forest, “they burn incense under oaks, and poplars, and elms, because the shadow thereof is good” (Hosea iv. ] 3); but still it was about the best shadow that the desert coidd afford, save when we could get under some great rock or shaggy palm. Job speaks of behemoth, —
“He licth under the shady trees, In the covert of tlic rccd ainl fens; The shady trees cover liini with their shadow, The willows of the hrook compass him about.” — (xl. 21.)
About noon we passed some more of the black tents of Kedar, about a quarter of a mile to the left. We were moving on when we saw two or three Bedaween approaching. They came up to us, and we halted. Was it in kindness, or for money, or with a hostile pui-pose that they came? They held converse with our dragoman for some time, but we understood none of it. They did not look ill-disj)osed, and their voices were friendly. So we stood silently for a few minutes. Their object was soon made known. The speaker was, we were told, he Sheikh of Arabah, and he was inviting us to his ,ents to rest ourselves, and to partake of some food and nilk. But as this imphed considenible loss of time, as veil as a bucksjiish, and as there was no object to be,’aitied by our going, we declined, giving him our thanks br his hospitality. But it reminded us of a scene in yv2 plains of Mamre. “Abraham sat in his tent-door n the heat of the day; and he lifted up his eyes and ooked, and lo, three men stood by him: and, when he aw them, he ran to meet them from the tent-door, and aowed himself toward the ground, and said, My lord, .f now I have found favour in thy sight, pass not away, [ pray thee, from thy servant. Let a little ^vatGr, I pray you, be fetched, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree: and I will fetch a morsel of bread, and :omfort ye your hearts; after that ye shall pass on” (Gen. xviii. 1-5). It reminded us too of the scene in the vale of Siddim, when Lot went out of his house to meet the angels and said, “Behold now, my lords, turn in, I pray you, into your servant’s house, and he pressed upon them greatly” (Gen. xix. 2).
Like the other sheikhs whom we had seen, this prince of the desert was humble in attire and mien, and certainly did not look “every inch a king.” His small screen of black canvas was no palace, and there was no state nor authority about him. What is the exact position of those sheikhs? What is the nature, and what the limits of their power? How far is their authority recogni.sed and iibniittcd to? These were questions which we often asked, Ixit to which we found no good answer. AVe could hardly conceive these men exercising judicial or royal functions, — though when dressed out in silk and gold, with sword in belt, and gay tarboosh on the head, as we sometimes saw them, they do not look so unroyal. Yet he who would rule these deserts would require a more dignified mansion, a cleaner turban, and a sharper sword than theirs.
The sun was cloudless in his brightness; but a fresh breeze from the west came along to cool us. A little after one we passed two “Mukatteb” inscriptions on the left, cut in the hard rock, and in about ten minutes after we passed another. We continued to wind along Wady-esh-SheiJdt, which was tame, the hills on each being low, but relieved by the magnificence of Serbal behind us. About four we came within sight of the Sinaitic range and got a glimpse of Jebel Mvsa, the supposed mountain of the law-giving. A little to the right we sawdistinctly through the glass the palace of Abbas Pasha, on a lofty peak, which seemed almost as high as Jebel ]Iusa. Each pasha seems to have some special object of passionate pursuit. One spends his life and money on horses, another on gardens, another, like the present one, on the army, another, like his predecessor, on building palaces. The first object of Abbas was to find the healthiest spot with the purest atmosphere. For this end he took several legs of mutton and suspended them on lofty poles in different parts of the desert. The place where the said leg remained longest undecaying, was fixed on as the driest and healthiest, and there a palace was built to form a summer or winter residence for his highness. The pains taken to ascertain the liealthiest spot shew how much he was in love with life, and how eagerly he grasped at everything that might prolong it for a day.
One palace he had built in the desert of Suez, where the above test had been applied, and there it stands, unfinished and unoccupied, like the famous Twizel Castle at home, on the banks of the Till. This other, Ahbas had built on the mountain adjoining Sinai; and hardly ever was human dwelling, much less the palace of a prince, perched on so wild and high a cliff, — in the centre of a region of such unmitigated bleakuess and sterility. Few, save an Egyptian pasha, could have attempted such a work. But it costs him little save the lives of men and camels, and these he counts just as so many dogs, especially the former. He fixes on a peak, — he gets a plan drawn, and his officers must see it executed. A few military stations are formed in the desert to overawe the inhabitants, and then every Arab that can lift a stone, and every camel that can bear a burden, arc pressed into his service. No one dare refuse. The soldiers are at hand to hunt down each recusant without mercy to himself or his family. Not that there is serfdom in the desert. The Lcdaween arc free as the wild g»iats of their hills. The sons of Ishmaol have never worn the chain, save when caught by the pa.sha’8 soldiers and led ea))tive to Cairo or Alexandria. All their internal feuds have never resulted in subjection to a common conqueror. He who would conquer the desert must be one who can fill its streams with water and clothe its hills with verdure.
This jDalace cost several thousands of camels, whose bones lie strewed throughout the desert; how maoy men we could not learn. The stones and other materials required to be earned from vast distances through a scorching waste and sometimes over rocks or through passes, which, even when unloaded, the camel shrinks from. On the debris of bones, — the bones of man and beast, — that palace was built; and now it stands there incomplete and empty, — the wind of the desert sweeping over it, and the eurses of the injured Bedaween rising around it every hour as it strikes their eye from afar. One might ask Ossian’s question, while looking up to these half-finished walls, —
“Why dost thou build the hall,
Son of the winged days?
‘ihou lookest from thy towers to-day;
A few years and the blast of the desert comes
It howls in t.hy empty courts
And whistles round thy half-woni cJiield.”
Or still more truly the question of Job, —
“Where is the house of the prince?
Where are the dwelling-places of the wicked?
Have ye not asked the traveller,
And do ye not know their tokens?” — (Job xxi. 28.)
We encamped about five in Wady-esh-Sheikh, our tents looking out upon the Sinaitic ridges in one direc-WADY-ESII-SnEIKfT. 201
tioD, and Serbrd in another. There was nothing remarkable about our resting-place. It was under a rock, in a quiet corner of a small plain, about half way through Wady Sheikh. Through this valley Israel had passed. Here they had encountered Amalek; and, on some of these heights, Moses, with Aaron and Hur, had watched the battle, while Joshua fought in the plain below. Here they chode with Moses and murmured against God. Here the water had gushed out and followed them like a river. All over this valley had once been spread the tents of the tribes. “How goodly were thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel.”
This wady is the most spacious in the desert, and perhaps also the most abundant in vegetation as a whole, though it contains no oasis to equal that of Feiran or Ghurandel. But here, as always elsewhere, in these wastes the shrubs are confined to the bed of the wady, or at most to a narrow belt along the side of the hills or slopes. Any small fragrant shrubs, such as the Zatilr and Jadheh, that get higher up, are quite imperceptible to the eye at any distance, and are besides very dusky in their hue.* Towards the
Mr Stanley speaks of “the thin clothing of vcgctntion which is solilom withdrawn, especially the aromatic shrubs on Ihe hi<jh hill-sides.” I (lid not SCO anything in the desert that I could call oven a thin clothing of vegetation. The widely scattered shrubs do not deserve this name. Aromatic plants on tho high hill crevices I did find hero and there, not certainly on their sides. When Mr S. quotes Koblo’a description of the desert, with ita “mountain-lodges groon,” (on which sheep are represented OS feeding), ho surely did not mean to vouch for its accuracy 1 north the vegetation creeps up somewhat higher, but in the southern interior it is quite unable to ascend. Hence the mountain -slopes never look green; and it was only when the Lussi’f threw out its sprightly verdure from some crevice, that there was the slightest approach to this. But a gi-een twig stuck in the bare rock once in the coui-se of a mile, was only a signal of distress. It made the leanness look leaner. Even where the shrubs abound in the wadys there is no show of what we should call green. Vegetation is so dull in its hue that it does not look like verdure. Sometimes a streak of green runs up the sides of a hill or along its front; but on examination you find that this is from the colour of the strata, and not from vegetation. More than once we were deceived by the appearance of both green and brown upon the hill-sides, and supposed we were approaching a stripe of vegetation or a field wich the plough had just turned over, when there was nothing before us save the rock in its green or brown nakedness. Quite as effectually did this Serdb of the rock cheat our inexperienced eye, with its stripes of vivid green along the rugged slopes-, as did the Serdh of the valley deceive us, wdth its sunny lakes and wooded isles, and noble barl moving majestically across the glassy blue.