Ain el-Haramiyah

Ain El-Haramiyah, Tuesday, March 11. — Last night’s darkness prevented us knowing the nature of our tenting place. This morning I went out at half-past six to survey it. The air was chill, but the sky cloudless, and a sharp west wind was finding its way down the valley. We had encamped upon a bed of crimson anemones, on a small level spot, above the bed of a dry torrent, but in the hollow of a deep ravine; its western side precipitous, its eastern gradual in its acclivities. Beside us were the ruined walls of a large square building, probably an ancient reservoir or cistern, once fed by the Ain, a fountain from which the place takes its name. This spring is not now connected with the cistern, but bursts out from the foot of the precipitous rocks on oar west; or at least, I should say, upon our left; for the wady is not due north and south. I examined the spring, and found its water excellent, ephkaim’s fruitful fields. and, I suppose, perennial -; for it is a genuine A in, not a B’V, nor a Bivkeh, welling still out of the mountain-rock, as it Las done for ages. The place is beautiful; not only carpeted with flowers and plants, but hung all round with them, — the anemone in the sward, the cyclamen in the crevices, and the maiden-hair shaking its light tresses over the face of the rock. The hills on the east of us, rose in an amphitheatre of terraces above our tents. Of these I counted thirty-six, rising tier above tier, to the very top, all planted with figs and olives.

At nine we started, our American friends along with us. We were very greatly obliged to them for guidance as well as company, — our own dragoman not yet having made his appearance. We passed up several rocky ravines, all carefully cultivated and terraced to the top. Though the road was stony and uncared for, yet the valleys themselves are exceedingly rich, and bear good marks of the hand of the husbandman. Yon fellah before us, breaking his fallow ground with the axe or hoe, is only one specimen of the care bestowed upon this fertile region, which is the southern part of Ephraim’s fruitful fields; for during our night ride we had passed out of Benjamin into Ephraim. These olive-planted terraces and hills are portions of Joseph’s “fruitful bough” (Gen. xlix. 22), and shew us something of the “precious fruits put forth by sun and moon” (Deut. xxxiii. 14), “the choice things of the ancient mountains, the precious things of the lasting

CITIES BY THE WAY.

hills.” These orchards of fig-trees, extending for miles on each side of us, and these olives, on which the sunshine is softly quivering, what witness do they bear to the excellence of Ephraim’s fruitful land!

At a quarter to ten we came to the foot of the round hill where Sinjil stands. We see a tomb, and some ruins, with trees; but to visit the village would take us out of our way. We passed large flocks of sheep, and over beds of bright anemones; not now crimson, as hitherto, but of all colours, blue, lilac, and white. A little way on, we came into a less fruitful region, wTith more of the thorn than the fig or olive.

At half-past ten we came within sight of Turmus Ayah, or, as Abd el-Atih gives it, Turm-es-Sayah, which, he says, means the hall of SajTah, a large village in the plain. On the top of the hill to the left, we saw Jiraba. At this point, we turned out of our way to the right, in order to see £ ilun. At the point of divergence we met a peasant, who at once undertook to be our guide Girding up his loose garments, he set off before us, leading first through the plain to Turm-es-Sayah and Sunah; then up a low hill, north of these; then down into a hollow, surrounded by black, stony hills, with thistles and thorns everywhere. On the top of the hill before us we observed one or two olives, and moving in that direction, we soon found ourselves asa tnding the long sloping hill on which stood the ancient Shiloh, now Silk. On getting a considerable way up the slope, we came to a somewhat massive ruin, which looked not unlike a Christian church. Well-hewn stones, and the broken capitals of three Corinthian columns, with other ornamental work, shew that small as the building was, some cost had been bestowed on it. Our guide called this the Mosque of Set in, — that is, “the sixty,”

From the mosque Set in a few minutes set you down amid the ruins of Silun, which is, I think, beyond question the ancient Shiloh, where, for several centuries, from the days of J oshua, the Tabernacle of the Lord had its resting-place. Next to J erusalem, this may be called the most sacred spot in Palestine. It lies on a small hill, or rather eminence, above which rise higher hills like an amphitheatre, with undulations all around, save to the southward, in which direction it looks down upon a fine plain or valley, which, stretching for miles away, seems like a great avenue between hills leading up to the mountain sanctuary. If one could suppose Taanath-Shiloh (J osh. xvi. 6) to be in this neighbourhood, there would be some propriety in fixing it down yonder where this great avenue begins, for the name means the “entrance to Shiloh,”

The ruins scattered over the undulations of this eminence, are very extensive. There are no remains of tower or gateway, of porch or colonnade; the stones which lie on such heaps around are not of large size, and shew no carving; there are indeed broken walls, lines of streets, traces of house-foundations and the like; but nothing to intimate grandeur. The situation is very

THE DESOLATION.

noble, commanding not only the plain immediately below, but the openings of several valleys which shoot off in different directions, and up which the multitudes of Israel, flocking to the feasts of the Lord, must have seen the sanctuary afar off, and been seen as they joined their several streams in the valley below, and poured upward to the holy place. I wandered over the ruins, from mound to mound, and wall to wall; then gathering some of the wild-flowers that grew around, I sat down on a broken wall to look round upon the scene, and to read the passages of Scripture referring to the place. Such stony desolation I had not yet seen. At Beitin the rums were intermingled with the natural rocks; but here we see endless heaps of mere debris. The fineness of the afternoon helped to give a cheering aspect to the ruins; the sunshine at least took off the excessive gloom, which, when clouds and shadows are overspreading these hills, must be oppressive. How that passage of Jeremiah rung in our ears, “Go ye now unto my place which was on Shiloh, where I set my name at the first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel,” (Jer. vii. 12).

We remained here some considerable time, loathe to leave so interesting a spot. At length we mounted, and began to descend. The hollows are in tolerable cultivation; all the land being under the plough, and crops shooting up; the beans already six inches high, and the lentiles in luxuriance. We now (at twelve o’clock) turned slightly south-west, and in half an hour came opposite the tillage of Leban or Lubban, the ancient Lebonah, on the low slope of a hill to the left of us. Here we sat down to lunch with our American friends, whose companionship throughout the day we had enjoyed. The plain before us was green and beautiful, girdled with hills. Leaving Lubban a little after one o’clock, we observed, on the top of a hill to the left, Es-Sauleh* as we passed through a glen some four or five hundred yards wide, with well-tilled fields, and olivesprinkled slopes. This glen, I suppose, is Wady el-Lubban. “Winding round the hill, we came upon Es-Sauleh or Salieh. Our guide informed us here, that all this ground once belonged to Kiug David; that the town was built by Solomon; and that here one of his sons was buried, called Sauleh!

We now ascended a rugwd hill to the north-west. On our right we saw Zatarah, on the top of a low hill, where there were some ruins and square buildings. Farther off, also to our right, on the slope of a hill, we saw Ydmah. On this height over which we are passing, we first caught sight of the Great Hermon, Jebel esh-Sheikh, the “royal mountain,” the most southern as well as the highest peak of Anti-Libanus, 10,000 feet high, and above eighty miles distant from us at this moment. Even at this distance how it towers! So clearly is it brought out in all its parts by the gleam of its snows in the sunlight, that one could scarcely think

* I give this name as our guide gave it; but I suppose it is the same as Dr Robinson calls Es-Sawieh. vol. ii. p. 272.

VILLAGES.

it half so far off. It must be visible much farther off than this; and, were it not for the intervening hills, would be seen in Jerusalem. No doubt this was one of the objects on which Moses looked, from Pisgah, when he saw “that goodly mountain, even Lebanon,” As there are no hills of any height all up the Ghor of the Jordan, there would be nothing to intercept the eye of the dying saint, till it rested upon Hermon.

As we descended the height we came upon the village of Howarah. The valley or ravine is very rugged and stony, without a tree, though at the bottom there is good soil, on which crops are growing. A woman is cutting down the thorns at one part of the hill for fuel, reminding us ol the thorns ready for the fire, so often given us as a figure of the unfruitful soul. We saw several villages to the left, that is westward, A in Abiis; more to the left, or south-west, K’Aza; the right Beitah. About half-past three we passed Howarta, a village to the left; a little farther, on the same side, on one of the slopes of Gerizim, Kefer Kullin, and on the opposite side Anupta, circled with its olives. We now began to wind round Gerizim, or Jebel et-Tuv as it is called; and as we did so, Mount Ebal came in front of us. The sun was now getting low and Gerizim was intercepting his radiance, though he had perhaps an hour yet of his descent to make. We were impatient to reach Jacob’s Well, and afraid lest the shadows should overtake us. So we pushed on, and in a short time were wandering amid the ruins and wild-flowers that surround its mouth. The broken pillars, crumbling walls, shattered stones, we did not take much interest in. Though above a thousand years old, they were to us merely the memorials of the superstition, which, throughout this land, has sought to materialize everything, and to substitute for the spiritual, the sentimental or the sensuous. The flowers were various and beautiful, reminding us of One who so often used them in his holy lessons. They spoke to us more of Him than did the ruins which lie scattered on all sides.

A large arch or vault, on a level with the ground, covers the mouth of the well, and forms a small, square chamber above it. Into this we scrambled down, in order to see into the well, which, like many eastern wells, seems to narrow at the top, making the aperture much smaller than the main-shaft. We were sadly disappointed at finding no mouth at all, nothing but broken stones covering the whole surface of this chamber, in the centre of which the mouth of the well should have been. A dozen of the natives were hanging about the ruins, some holding our ponies, the rest doing nothing; so wo called them and asked to be shewn the aperture. We were told, that recently some heavy rains had loosened part of the arch, and brought down a mass of debris upon the hole. We asked if it could not be removed. They shook their heads. We tried to remove it ourselves, but in vain; nor was our attempt quite a safe one, for had the stones thus jammed together and filling up the space given way, we might have seen

MOUTH OF WELL.

more of Jacob’s well than we had any desire to do.* It was sufficient to know from good authority that the well was about ten feet in diameter, + seventy-five feet deep, and that sometimes there was water in it, and sometimes again almost none. The chamber over the mouth, in which we now were, may possibly have been what has been suggested, “a resting-place for the weary traveller “X but it is as likely to have been part of the substructures of the church, — a cell where the altar stood as an early writer affirms. §

Finding that we could make nothing of the interior of the well, we came up out of this chamber and took our seat upon the ledge, as once the Lord had done,

* The Jerusalem Itinerary (a.D. 333) though referring to the scene at the well (John iv.) can hardly be said to speak of the actual well, but only of “Sechar” where it was. After mentioning Neapolis (N&blus), and Mons Agazaren, and Sechim, the old traveller adds, “inde (*. e. from Sechim) passus mille, locus est cui nomen Sechar, unde descendit mulier Samaritana ad eundem locum ubi Jacob puteum fodit,” &c. And then he adds, in reference to Sechar, “ubi sunt arbores plantani quos plantavit Jacob, et balneus qui de eo puteo lavatur.’’ Jerome speaks of Paula’s entering a church built on the side of Garizim, “circa puteum Jacob” (Epitaph. Paulae). The ruins of this church are often referred to by the pilgrims and writers of succeeding ages. “Historia dell Antica e Moderna Pales. tina, dal Vincenzo Bendini”’ (1641), Part ii. p. 39. “El devoto peregrino y viage de Tierra Santa, per Antonio del Castillo,” (1666) “esta todaarruinada,” p. 301. See “Narrative of Mission of Inquiry,” &c. p. 212. Dr Wi son’s Lands of the Bible, vol. ii. 54. Br Robinson’s Bibl. Res. vol. ii. 284; vol. iii. 132.

t This is greater than the western well of Beersheba, which was nearly six feet, but less than the eastern, which was twelve. These were, however, not nearly so deep as this of Jacob.

* Narrative of Mission, etc, p. 212.

§ Bonifacius. cited by Quaresmius. in Dr Robinson, vol. ii. p. 284. more weary than we, for he had walked since morning, and it was hot noon when he reached this spot. We were not much fatigued, and even though we had been, the evening air was enough to revive us. The afternoon had been altogether one of the most thoroughly delicious that we had ever enjoyed; the mild sunshine, the soft breeze, and the slight haze that took off the heat, while it did not dim the blue, all combining to make the scenes we have traversed doubly beautiful In no light could we have seen them all to greater perfection. The scene, the sky, and the hour, well suited each other. So we felt, as we sat down with our Bibles to read together the fourth chapter of the gospel of John. The ledge on which we were sitting was not the same as existed in ancient times, though there must have been a raised ledge or low wall, like that of Beersheba, on which the Lord sat; but the well was the same; the hills were the same; the vale was the same; the road leading westward to the city was the same, and the way northward to Galilee, which the Lord was about to take, was the same; only the time of day was different, for the mountain shadows were lengthening, and Gerizim was intercepting the rays of the sun, that then beat with its full noon-force upon His head. One may conceive how the words sounded then, “If THOU KNEWEST THE GIFT OF God, and who it is that saith TO THEE, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked OF him, and he would have given thee living water,” (John iv. 10).

FBAL.

Then mounting our horses, and giving a last look to the spot, we went down the slope; for the well is on a slight elevation, a prolongation of the base of Gerizim. Glancing at Joseph’s tomb as we passed, we went up the valley,* with Gerizim on our left, and Ebal on our right. On Ebal we observed numerous rock-cut tombs; and all along that side of the mountain wall, we were struck with the ruggedness of the grey basaltic rocks, that give such solemn grandeur to the mountain of the curses. The grey was slightly interspersed with green, and there were olives here and there; but the aspect of the rock was wild and bleak; not so terrible as the red glare of Sinai; but giving that peculiar aspect of melancholy dreariness, which the grey colour of the rock seems always to impart, as in the Coolin hills of Skye, whose jagged peaks and bold grouping remind one of Sinai, while their grey sides and top recall Ebal and its fellows. Joshua’s altar on the hill is gone (Josh. viii. SO); his great stone w7hich he set up under the oak is roiled

* The Moslem Wely over Joseph’s tomb, takes away the interest attaching to such a place, if it be really the patriarch’s place of sepulture. It may be so, and perhaps marks the site of the ancient Skechem, for that town must have been nearer the well than the modern Nablus. Jacob would not have dug a well two miles from his place of abode. Eastern towns like Hebron, have frequently changed their places, even while retaining the locality, creeping up and down a hill or valley, as convenience or safety suited. Sychar may not have been so far up the valley as Nablus, but nearer the well. Neapolis and Sychar may have corresponded to each other as did Kainopolis (Bezetha) and Jerusalem. The Jerusalem Itinerary makes Neapolis, Sechim, ar.dSichar, different places. Van de Velde mentions Askar at the foot of Ebal, which he takes to be the birth-place of Judas. It must be By ‘kar. away (Josh. xxiv. 26); the Amen of Israel’s thousands does not echo from rock to rock; but this is the valley where the multitude gathered, and somewhere on this road must have stood the stone with its shadowing oak.*

We soon come in sight of Nablus, and hear the mirth of young voices. Fifty or sixty children are playing on the slope at the eastern gate of the city. They shout and laugh as we pass, not appearing over civil. We do not enter the town, but turn slightly to the left, and keeping along the outside of its walls, we reach its west end, where, upon some olive-crowned hillocks, we find our tents. It was still good twilight, so that we could enjoy the scene before the darkness shut it out.

Late in the evening, after we had gone to rest, Mr Wright and Mr Beddome arrived, weary and hungry. Of their journey we have already given an account.

Ndblus, Wednesday, March 12. — At the untimely hour of three this morning we were awakened by the arrival of our dragoman and Mr Graham. They had not left Jerusalem till yesterday at four, and had pushed on in the darkness, over the rocky road, reaching Nablus in eleven hours. Haji Ismael’s horse had fallen more than once, though without injury to. man

* No one seems to have measured the height of either Gerizim or Ebal. Buckingham speaks of their not exceeding seven or eight hundred feet above the valley. But their height above the sea-level must be greater. They are nearly equal in height; but Olin seems to think Gerizim the higher of the two. Maundrel gives the preference to Gerizim for “pleasantness,” though he does not think that either has much to boast of.

A a

THE VALE OF NABLUS.

or beast; but Mr Graham’s energetic and sure-footed grey mare had never stumbled.

At a quarter past six, I set out for a stroll. I wished to have climbed Gerizim, which lay close behind our tents, and is not much above eight hundred feet in height; but the morning was so breezy, that I had to content myself with walking a little way up beyond the olives and prickly pears which fringe its base. Passing the Turkish burying-ground, I went first along the western slope, and then returning, went more directly up the hill a little way. The view of the long narrow town, from the height, is excellent. Wedged in between Ebal and Gerizim,* it has made the best use it could of the space allotted to it, and thrown round itself a green fringe of every varied shriA and tree, olive, fig, mulberry, pomegranate, and even palm. Well-watered, though without a river, it has spread over its suburban fields a richness of vegetation, not equalled, perhaps, in the land, — at least, in southern Palestine. Unrained upon during summer, it has still its fountains, which scatter life through all its groves, and keep its verdure unwithering. How quietly it rests down there, with its domes and minarets, the rising sun shooting over its whole length, and the sharp breeze throwing up into the radiance the varied foliage of its* groves! Yonder, too, rises Ebal, frowning above it,

* On which of these mountains, were “the houses of the high places which the Samaritans had made/”’ (2 Kings xvii. 29)? Probably both, and on many other hills. bare and precipitous, with an olive or a prickly pear here and there; the rock-cut tombs along its lower slope, adding to the desolation which is associated with its name. Lying fully exposed to the sun of noon, it has, perhaps, a more parched and sterile aspect than its more shaded rival.

The two mountains look very near each other, though one is deceived as to distance here. Yet it did not seem an unlikely thing that parties should answer each other from these heights. I asked specially as to this of Mr Rogers, the excellent Consul of Khaifa, who is at present here on business. He mentioned that it is quite a common thing for the villagers to call to each other from the opposite hills, and that the voice is heard quite distinctly. Having already, in the desert, found how far sound is carried, I did not think the distance, between Ebal and Gerizim, at all greater than between some of those places where we had already tried our voices; and I thought I could have undertaken to make my wishes known to any shepherd or fellah on yon rock, had there been one there at the time, or could I have addressed him in his native tongue.*

* If Jotham’s voice were at all like that of his people to this day, clear and shrill, he would find it easy enough to stand on the top of Gerizim, and call down to the inhabitants of the city beneath, “Hearken unto me, ye men of Shechem, that God may hearken unto you,” (Judges ix. 7). Jotham’s allusion, in his parable, to the olive, the fig-tree, and the vine, suits well a spot like this, where all these trees must have been under his eye. As to the “bramble,” (ver. 14), I know not what it was, unless the prickly pear, which abounds here.

THE SAMARITAN KEN1SEH.

Returning from my walk, I joined the party, and we all proceeded to the Samaritan -synagogue. On our way we called on Mr Zeller, the missionary from the Church Missionary Society, who went along with us and introduced us. The synagogue seems to be in connection with the house of the priest, or high jDriest, as I suppose he is called. We were soon conducted to the Kenisek or synagogue, passing first through a small court. At the door of the synagogue the priest stopped us, and asked us to take off our shoes. We complied, and entered a very homely and rather gloomy chamber, in part laid with matting. To the left there was a curtain, meant perhaps for the veil before the Holy of Holies. This was withdrawn, and we stood at the entrance of this recess till the priest brought out the roll. It certainly looked very venerable, though the tradition as to its being the work of Abishua, the son of Phinehas, (1 Chron. vi. 3, 4), or nearly three thousand five hundred years old, is of course a mere Samaritan fable, meant to lengthen out the pedigree of a late-sprung sect, and to give some weight to its pretensions, by substituting antiquity of origin for evidence of authenticity. We helped him to unroll the ancient scroll, for he permitted us to touch it as well as to see it. The two sticks or rollers round which it was wrapt were ornamented at both ends, though a little shabby and out of condition. The old Karaite book of the law, which we had seen at Jerusalem, was a book paged and bound like our own. shewing that the Jews do not

S73

confine themselves to one form; but this was a regular volume, “a volumen,” a thing rolled and unrolled, a Jfegillah, such as that which Jeremiah took, and Baruch wrote in, and Jehudi fetched, and J ehoiakim cut with his penknife and burned, in the fire of his winter-house, (Jer. xxx vi. 2, 4, 27). The old man was most obliging, unrolling it considerably to let us see it fully. We then rose up to go (for all this took place upon our knees, as the roll was on the carpet), and the priest had put away the roll and drawn the curtain, when we remembered that we had not examined specially the Ten Commandments, with which the Samaritans are said not to have dealt more honestly, than the Romanists at home. We returned, accordingly, and asked to see the volume again. Thinking that we wanted to see something more, the priest brought forth another ancient roll, though evidently more modern than the other. As this is an exact transcript of the other, we were quite satisfied with it, and asked him to unroll it at the place which contains the Commandments. I looked for the tenth, and in its place I read, “Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God on Mount Gerizim.” Ingenious devices of men, bent on bringing the word of God into conformity with their own systems and laws! The Latin needs to erase a commandment from the divine statute-book, but in order to achieve this without being caught in the act of felony, he splits the tenth into two, while he blots out the second, that the number may still stand ten in his breviary. The Samaritan needs to add a com-SAMARITAN SACRIFICES.

mandrnent, and that he may do so without making eleven, he joins the first and second! He forms a Bible to suit himself, leaving ’ out or inserting as much as may be convenient; — true representative of the “foolish people that dwell in Shechem,” whom the son of Sirach refused to count a nation.*

We now quitted the synagogue, put on our shoes, and gave the priest a few piastres for his trouble. He took them gladly and wished us peace. What is this old man’s hope, and the hope of the hundred and fifty Samaritans that worship here? He has Moses, but not the prophets. He has Moses, but he has not Him of whom Moses and the prophets testify! These Samaritans, it seems, offer sacrifice! But what is the meaning of sacrifice to men with a double veil upon their hearts? It is not to them life for life, — the life of the substitute for the life of the sinner; — and if not this, what is it? But is the Samaritan worse than the Jew? Perhaps he has not become so impenetrable, because he does not daily confront himself with so much truth; but then he contemns more of Scripture, and wraps himself up in the five folds of the Pentateuch, treating psalms and prophets as a fable. The Samaritan sacrifices because he has access to Gerizim, where his fathers worshipped (John iv. 20); would the Jew sacrifice, if he had access to Moriah? Certainly he would; for the Christian argument that cuts him most sharply is, that he is” without a sacrifice yet he dare not offer sacrifice any where in the

* Ecclesiasticus li. 26. world save on the old hill of Oman, and on that he cannot set his foot. The restoration of Palestine to the Jews, in an unconverted state,, would be like the touch of a magician’s rod, suddenly evoking an amount of slumbering Judaism, for which the world is not prepared.

Returning from the synagogue, through the narrow and not over cleanly streets of the city, we soon breakfasted, and were ready to move off for Samaria. While standing for a few minutes to look around us once more upon the city and its guardian hills, we turned the eye eastward to get a glimpse of the mountains on the other side of Jordan, the mountains of Gilead. They were barely visible; but one likes to take in all the features of a scene, the distant as well as the near. From these hills the Ishmaelites came “with their camels bearing spicery, and balm, and myrrh, going to carry it down to Egypt” (Gen. xxxvii. 25); for it was to Israel’s hills that Mizraim was indebted for the spices, with which she embalmed her dead. These hills were not only the dwellings of Israel’s physicians; but the “mountains of prey,” the strongholds of the warrior, “for because Machir was a man of war, therefore he had Gilead and Bashan” (Josh. xvii. 1); out of these hills came forth Elijah the Tishbite (true representative of the ancient warriors of Manasseh and Gad), dowrn to this very spot where we now are, for through this gorge he must have passed to Samaria on his first visit to Ahab (1 Kings xvii. 1). From his own mountains he had from childhood gazed upon Gerizim and Ebal, and as he comes

FRUITFULNESS.

down to Israel, having in his hands both the blessing and the curse, he passes between these hills, which so truly represented the errand on which he had come. From these hills (at least from the southern parts of them) had Moses pointed out to Israel the spot where the blessing or curse would be pronounced; “are they (Gerizim and Ebal) not on the other side Jordan by the way were the sun goeth down” (Deut. xi. SO), for Israel had seen many a sun set behind their summits.

We now proceeded on our way, having for a little the company of Mr Rogers, to whom we were indebted for much information. Striking down into the valley, we soon crossed its hollow of perhaps three hundred yards, and ascended the opposite or Ebal side, moving in a north-westerly direction. We saw olives and figs on all sides, the former in their usual ever-green, the latter putting forth their young green figs. Ploughs were at work in all the fields, and the sound of the ploughmen’s voices was pleasant. The verdure was as yet but scanty, for spring was little more than begun, but we saw enough to tell us how rich the valley is, and could guess with what a luxury of flower and fruit, the summer is hastening to cover it. It was a goodly specimen of Ephraim’s fruitful heritage. Nor was there any lack of villages, both far off and near. In front there was Zeita; to our left, on the height, Beit- Uzin; and then a quarter of an hour farther, Beit-Eba on a hill to the left. Just here we saw a sort of aqueduct, across the valley, another of the many evidences of cultivation around. At present it serves only as a mill-lead, but its twelve pointed arches were originally meant for something more than this. Even in our own country we do not build such costly water-courses for common mills; and though Dr Robinson speaks slightingly of it, in past ages, it may have done higher service, though whether an “ancient bridge,” as Richardson calls it, or a regular aqueduct to some of the villages or towns which covered the sides of this valley, one cannot say.

We now turned to the right and entered a beautiful green valley, stretching beneath us to the left. We passed through fields of green corn, which had already reached a height of eight or nine inches, so that in little more than a month they would be whitening for harvest. Scattered thickly over the hill-sides were the anemonies, large and tall; fields of beautiful blue lupin; the drop-hyacinth, with a profusion of other flowers, red, blue, and yellow, which my scanty botanical knowledge hinders me from attempting to name. Down in the valley to our left we saw the village of Deir-£heraf, too far off to be visited.

We soon reached the height above Sebustieh (i.e., Samaria), nearly two miles from the city itself. The whole valley lay at our feet, with the old city in the centre, set upon the summit of a low, round, or rather oval hill (like Gibeon, though larger), and encircled, though at a little distance, with an entire girdle of towering hills, whose slopes were dotted all over with olives. It has been a noble city; the noblest

MAGNIFICENT SITE.

certainly that we had seen either in East or West. “Beautiful for situation” as J erusalem is, it does not equal this. London is not made to be seen, save from the dome of St Paul’s; nor is Paris, save from the towers of Notredame; nor Alexandria, save from the topmast of some vessel; nor Cairo, save from the pyramids. But this, the city of Omri, is made to be gazed upon. Set on a hill, in the midst of a vast mountainous amphitheatre, ten miles at least in diameter, it cannot be hid. On every side it is visible, and in former days, with its circling colonnades and towering temples, it must have looked surpassingly noble. There is nought like it even in Palestme, whose hills and valleys seem as if specially laid out as sites for castles, and palaces, and cities. It is Ephraim’s “crown” set round with jewels, his “wreath” all wrought about with flowers for the head of his “fruitful valley” (I sa. xxviii. 1). As we moved down the olive-wooded steep opposite it, we had an opportunity of seeing it fully.

Passing into the hollow, we got a view of the city from the lower ground, and marked the intermixture of the ancient city and modern village; the broken pillars on the slope, the ruined church on the height, the Arab houses between, and the stones rolled down into the valley. Ascending the steep path which leads up to the town, we entered it near the old church dedicated to John the Baptist,”5’ whose connection with

* Josephus tells us. that it was in Machaerus, east of Jordan, that John was beheaded (Antiq. xviii. 5. 2), and Eusebius quotes this passage of this place, either in martyrdom or burial, is a mere legend of the fourth century. After examining the church we proceeded to the Moslem burying-ground, making our way through the crowd of natives, old and young, who surrounded us, to hold our horses, to gaze on us, to ask bakshish, and to offer us old coins for sale.

The burying-ground occupies the highest part of the city, or at least of the hill, for it is a stone’s cast beyond the houses. It is quite overgrown with the iris, which (along with smaller plants and flowers) has not merely surrounded the tombs, but has got above them, and struck its roots into the crevices of the stones.* In the midst of this field of flowers and tombs, we sat down to gaze around. If the city looks well from the neighbouring hills, not less so do these hills look from the city. It was noon, eastern noon, and the whole stretch of valley was lighted up by an almost unclouded sun. Each swell and hollow, each rock and grey steep, with the innumerable patches or belts of olive, came out in the sunshine, while over a break or slack in one of the western hills, we saw the blue waters of the “Great Sea,” I counted the mountain tops in this great girdle, and found them upwards of forty in num-Josephus (Eccl. Hist, i. 11), shewing us that in the fifth century, Josephus’ statement was still believed.

* Though in root and leaf this Iris is quite like our own, yet in flower it is different, and much smaller. A root of it, which I took with me from these ruins, is growing vigorously in my garden.

FEATURES OF SAMAKIA.

ber. We saw, in all directions, villages not a few; of which, however, I only picked up the names of Bit-Imrim towards the north, Eginysinia towards the south, and Dir Sheraf, more to the west.*

Samaria has “become desolate,” (Hosea xiii. 16), and these “mountains of Samaria” in which “the drunkards of Ephraim” trusted (Amos vi. 1), proved no defence against the Assyrian spoiler (2 Kings xvii. 6, 24). Yet, though the name of Shemer has passed away, and the city of Ahab is a broken potsherd, it is Samaria still. The unchangeable natural features are so many and so peculiar, that you feel this is still Samaria. Sweep Alexandria away, and then rebuild it, it is no longer Alexandria. There is not one outstanding natural feature whereby to identify the new with the old, or lead to the spontaneous recognition of the well-known portrait. So of Tyre, so of Sidon, where the only point of resemblance is the old sea, which washes their sandy beach, and that may be any where. But J erusalem and Samaria sit quite apart. They do not depend for identification, upon their walls, or towers, or temples, or even upon their ruins. They are so unique in site, and so marked in natural features, that no time can obliterate the likeness. El-Kuds is still Jerusalem, and Sebustieh is still Samaria. The living daughter, in rags, and filth, and poverty, is the very image of the dead mother, in fl fine linen,” and gems, and splendour.

* Were these some of the “places about Samaria,” where Judas, the Maccabee, was entrenched? 2 Mace. xv. 1.

This hill on which I sit, is really the hill of Shemer, which Omri, the father of Ahab bought for two talents of silver, (1 Kings xvi. 24).* Omri, Ahab, Jezebel, J ehu, Ahaziah, have passed away. The armies of Shalmanezer, and Benhadad, and Nicanor, are in dust. Judas the Maccabee, the bravest of the brave, no longer scours these hills, with his patriot army. Micaiah, Elijah, Elisha, no longer warn or counsel. The altar of Baal has vanished; the temple of Herod has disappeared; the Church of the Crusaders is a ruin; the “graven images have been broken in pieces,” and the “idols made desolate,” (Micah i. 7). Yet it is Samaria still. The central hill, the broad valley, the girdling mountains and the far off sea, are all what they were three thousand years ago.

The days of the “fat valley,” however, are not over, though the good news of peace, through the work of the Peacemaker, which Philip preached eighteen hundred years ago, are not now heard upon this hill; though the “great joy” is no longer known within the walls of the city, yet the word fails not, and Samaria awaits the time allotted to her,” Thou shalt yet plant vines upon the mountains of Samaria, O virgin of Israel; the

* The hill of Shemer is much larger than Moriah, yet Omri paid onlytwo shekels of silver for it; much less than David did for Oman’s thrashing floor, (1 Sam. xxiv. 24; 1 Chron. xxi. 25). The son of Sirach calls the inhabitants of this city, “them that sit upon the mountain of Samaria,” Ecclesiasticus 1. 26. Drusius and Grotius would change this to Mount Seir, but without authority. See their Annotations.

COLONNADE.

planters shall plant them, and shall eat them as common things,” (J er. xxxi. 5).

Having walked for a little in this graveyard, and marked the view on all sides, we went down to the village again, and passing through it, found ourselves on the ridge of the hill at the commencement of a splendid colonnade; the remains, I suppose, of one of those mighty structures with which Herod the Great adorned the city. As we walked along round the sweep of the hill, in the midst of ploughed fields, and olive-trees, and masses of hewn stone, we were amazed at the length of this singular range of pillars.* Of broken columns, or fragments indicating the place where columns had been, we counted upwards of one hundred and forty, which, with nearly one himdred still standing, gave us at least two hundred and forty-four as the original number. This, however, I have no doubt is much short of the truth, as the rain is so complete, and the fragments so scattered, that the work of numbering the pillars is not an easy one, especially under such a withering sunshine as was coming down on us all the while. We now descended the hill on the north side, where the steepness is much the same as in other parts. “We saw here, more strikingly than on the other side, how completely the ruins had been rolled down into the valley, (Micah

* Antonio del Castillo, in 1666, seems to have been greatly struck with this colonnade. He speaks of “magnificent ruins” and “whole streets of columns,” — “calles enteras decolupnas, que aun estan oyalgunas en pie,” p 303. i. 5-7). We observed here also fragments of pillars, indicating that the colonnade, just described, had extended in this direction, encircling the hill like a crown.

We now went on our way, still looking back and around, to admire the remains of the wondrous city. The day was getting cooler, though the sky was no less bright, and as we laid ourselves down on one of the slopes of the northern hills, upon a bed of rich anemonies, we gazed with increasing admiration, not merely on the ruined city, but on the matchless whole of the scene, out of which there rose up before us the memories of so many ages, and over which the afternoon sunshine was shedding down its softest brilliance.

We now mounted the northern height, over which lies our road. The prospect from its summit was wide and noble; the sea in the distance, a beautiful valley near, the hills about Nazareth on the north. About three o’clock we found ourselves in front of a fortress built upon a small hill, not very high, but quite sufficient to make the hold a strong one in old times. It is not, however, connected with Jewish, but only with later Mahommedan history. This hill-fort looks well, both at a distance, and while we were winding round its base. It takes its name from the Merj-Sanur (plain or meadow of Sanur), in which it stands. This plain was dry enough when we passed through it, but is said to be a morass or lake in winter. Pleasant mountains gird it round.

Somewhere to the left here, a little way on, the site of Dothan was pointed out. It is at the foot of a small

S8i

DOTH AN AND BLTHULIA.

hill, and just in the very place where Jerome and Eusebius place it, twelve Roman miles north of Samaria; though far enough distant from the traditional site of Greeks and Latins, who set it down some six miles north of the Sea of Galilee.* The faithfulness of native tradition to truth and history, through the long lapse of nearly 1 500 years, is strikingly illustrated in this case; and not less striking is the illustration of the utter ignorance, both of geography and history, embodied in the topographical legends of monk and crusader.-f-The discovering of Dothan helps in fixing another site, that of Bethulia, mentioned in the book of Judith; for Bethulia and Dothan (or Dothaim, as it is there called) could not have been far from each other, and both of them south of Esdraelon. We know it was near a “plain,” and a “valley,” and “fountains;’^ all of which marks would apply to the fort of Sanur. But the name, Sanur, being so different from Bethulia, we cannot identify these two places; at the same time there is considerable probability that they are the same, and the fort of Sanur may be really an old one, though Dr Robinson thinks not. It has been a place of great

* See Van de Velde’s Syria and Palestine vol. i. p. 264:. That traveller may claim the discovery of the site. He visited the spot, whereas Lr Robinson, like ourselves, only had it pointed out at a distance.

+ It is right, however, to notice that Jeic’ish tradition had preserved the true site of Dothan. “Half an hour south of Geser (which is two hours south of Engannim) is Dothan, at present Doth a, with a good fountain; it is situated about four hours north of Sichem.” — Zunz’s Geography of Palestine, from Jewish Sources.

X See Judith iv. C; vi. 11; vii. 3, 18; viii. 3.

£85

strength, and quite the key of the valley. As we descended again, we saw several villages; for all the region through which we have passed to-day, seems considerably more populous and fruitful than that which we saw yesterday. After riding through an extensive olive-forest, we again ascended, but almost immediately after, descended into the spacious plain of Sanur. Some miles to the eastward of us is the supposed site of Tkebez, beneath whose walls Abimelech fell by the millstone (Judges ix. 50; 2 Sam. xi. 21). It is now called Tubaz.

Again we ascended, and on the height we saw not only the hills of Nazareth, but got a glimpse of Nazareth itself, at least of one or two of the outlying houses, whose white roofs shone out clearly in the sunshine, though deeply sunk in the recesses of the ravine that cuts into the mountain. “Little Hermon” too lay before us, its lights and shadows richly beautiful in the sunset; while nearer us, in the same direction, rose the mountains of Gilboa, which we shall see more closely to-morrow.

Moving on in the calm evening, we cheered the way, in some of these valleys, by snatches of hymns, ancient and modern, English and Latin.*

* Of the last the following is a specimen. l< It is old and plain.”

0 quanta, qualia,
Sunt ilia Sabbata,
Quae semper celebrat
Superna curia!
Quse fessis requies,
Quae raerces fortibue,

B b

Thus beguiling the afternoon, we soon found ourselves at the head of a narrow ravine, through which we descended to Jenin. Its tall palm-trees caught our eye as we drew near, bright with mellow sunshine; and the extent, as well as extreme beauty, of the plain on which we were entering, struck us greatly. This is the south-eastern extremity of the great plain of Esdraelon. The sun had barely set, when we dismounted and pitched our tents on the outside of the village, not far from the palm-group. As the shades of twilight began to fall, the scene grew more beautiful, a quiet solemnity seeming to take possession of it, and to recall the thought to other ages and other sunsets. We walked into the village, and saw what was to be seen. The amount of cleanliness was no greater here than elsewhere; but the small clear stream* ran pleasantly through the midst of it, an indication of a certain amount of cleanliness and health. The stream comes

Cum erit omnia
Deus in omnibus!

Illic nec Sabbato
Snccedit Sabbatum,
Perpes laetitia
Sabbatizantium;
Nec ineffabiles
Cessabunt jubili
Quos decantabimus
Et nos et angeli.

* Dr Robinson’s “noble stream” is too strong an expression, unless understood comparatively, and according to the eastern standard, vol. ii. 315. De Saulcy merely says, “a rapid spring furnishes ths adjacent gardens with an ample supply of pure water,” vol. i. p. 82. This is the Ain, that gave the place its ancient name 2?/i-gannim. down from some of the neighbourhood heights, and, after watering the village, passes through the plain, and empties itself into the Kishon. After dinner we came out for a moonlight walk, which we much enjoyed. The sky was cloudless, and the night as calm as we had known in Wady Sheikh or Ghurandel. The only noise was the sound of the stream, and this only deepened the stillness. The great plain, of course, was invisible, and the mountains a mere dull mass all round. But the minaret of the village mosque looked well, and the tall palms, more graceful than painter ever drew, stood out upon the blue sky, with the moonshine quivering on their branches.

We had now entered the territory of Issachar, on the borders of that plain, where he “rejoiced in his tents” (Deut. xxxiii. 18). This was his “pleasant land,” where “he saw that the rest was good,” (Gen. xlix. 15). It was quite a region for tents, as well as a most “pleasant land m” and this Jenin or .Engannim (Josh. xix. 2. ), this “fountain of gardens,” is a true specimen of its fruitful beauty. But it was a land which the stranger would covet because of its richness, and through which an invading army from the north-east would be sure to pass, on its way either to Samaria or Jerusalem. Hence rose Issachar’s danger, and hence came his temptation to “couch between two burdens,” to “bow his shoulder to bear, and to become a servant unto tribute,” (Gen. xlix. 15). The lowland inhabitants of Stirlingshire had to pay dear to the Highland marauder, for their

THE BEDAWIN OF GILEAD.

broad lands and rich fields; and their “blackmail” seems to have corresponded to Issacher’s “tribute,” It is the same, throughout Syria, to this day. You cannot get rich lands there, any more than at home, without paying well for them; though it is in a peculiar way that prices find their level. If you get hold of a rich spot, whether at Urtass or Jenin, you must pay for it, if not in the shape of rent, at least in “blackmail,” to the Sheikh of the village, or the Rob Roy of the district.

This part of the country is often disturbed. The wild Bedawin from the transjordanic mountains (Gilead or Bashan), cross the Jordan, and scour the fertile meadows. There were, besides, local disturbances, it was said at this time, rendering the district unsafe for travellers, and our dragoman seemed sometimes to be visited wTith fear of peril; as much, however, we suspect, at the prospect of his “canteen” being plundered and his baggage stolen, as at any loss of life or property which we might incur. “My thingies,” as he called his goods and chattels, were always uppermost in his thoughts, whether it were the rain or the robber that threatened. To-day we met some parties of armed Bedawin, who, flourishing spear and gun, moved across our path, as if to reconnoitre. They merely looked at us, however, and passed on. Perhaps we were too many for them; or, perhaps, we were misjudging their intentions; for though fierce in aspect, they shewed no incivility in word or deed.

I may close this day’s record in the words of an old traveller, who was, however, travelling in the opposite direction to us: — u This was the pleasantest day’s journey we had in our whole travel. I never saw more fertile ground and pleasant fields, and so much together, all the wrhole day from Mount Tabor to a village called vulgarly Jenine, but of old En-gannim, whereof we read, Josh. xv. 34. Near unto this village is the place where J ael beheaded Sisera. Engannim is distant from Mount Tabor twenty-two miles. It is a very pleasant place, having fine gardens and orchards, and waters about it.”*

Jentn, March 13. — Before dawn, strolled up one of the low hills westward of our tents. The sun soon rose and lighted up this vast amphitheatre, this Golisaeum of Galilee, nobler than Augustus ever planned, and reared for something else than a Roman holiday or the games of Emperors. What a breadth of champaign, and what a sweep of mountain all round L To the north, there were, first, the mountains of Gilboa, then little Hermon; then, beyond these, the hills of Nazareth. These three seemed three parallel ranges, running from S.E. to N.W., the two first abutting upon the great plain, the last shutting it in on the north. Beyond these, in the far north, rose the Great Hermon, Jebd-es- Sheikh, reflecting the radiance of morning from his snows; — a magnificent spectacle, light and shade upon his snow-

* The Travels of Four Englishmen and a Preacher into Africa, Syria, Damascus, Canaan, Galilee, Samaria. &c. Begunne in the Yeere Jubile 1600. London: 1612, p. 93.

Saul’s last battle.

wrapt peaks and ravines, thick gloom concealing all below! On the far left, towards the west or north-west, Carmel terminated the view, and shut out the sea, Right east, not twenty miles off, beyond Jordan, lay Fahil (Pella), hidden, however, behind more hills than one.

We started about half-past eight, riding through the village, and along the plain, by some ploughed fields, having Carmel full in view to the left. Our horses seemed greatly to enjoy a gallop along the plain, so we made no objection. We soon reached Gilboa,* and crossed a low spur of it, Jebel Ed-Duhi (Little Hermon) still before us. We tried to imagine the scene ot Saul’s battle on this spot. Yonder, to the north, at Shunem, close by the foot of “Little Hermon,” was the camp of the Philistines. Here, where we now are, was Saul’s encampment, right opposite the other, some five or six miles between. Each army had a range of mountains in the rear, for watching and defence. Saul, wounded in spirit and forsaken of God, knows not what to do. In the dead of night, accompanied by two men, he quits the camp, traverses the plain, and crosses yon western shoulder of Ed-Duhi, to the north of which Endor lies. There he consults the woman, and returns, ere morning, to the camp at

* Dr Robinson says, that the name Gilboa (Jilbon) is not now known to the natives; vol. ii. p. 326. Dr Wilson, a good Arabic scholar, says expressly that the natives spoke of Jebel Jelbun; vol. ii. p. 88. Dr K., in his last edition, takes no notice of this. Richardson has given the same testimony as Dr Wilson; and two witnesses to a positive, are of more weight, than one to a negative.

Gilboa, to fight his last battle. He fights, and falls; perhaps upon this very spot where we now are. The “archers hit him” (1 Sam. xxxi. 3), and, with his three sons, he fell down, writhing in agony, till the Amalekite came up and finished the work of death (2 Sam. i. 10).

“Gazelle of Israel,* upon thy high places smitten!
How are the warriors fallen!
Mountains of Gilboa,
No dew and no rain be upon you,
And no fields of offering!

For there the shield of the warriors was cast away. The shield of Saul,

Not anointed with oil.” (2 Sam. i. 19).

Jezreel, now named ZeHn, lay before us, with £hunem, now called Sdlam, behind it. We soon reached (about two hours from Jenm) the former, and halted for an hour to examine it; as its prominence in Old Testament history gave it no small interest to us. The village of Zerin is much like other Arab villages, pleasant-looking at a distance, but miserable inside. It sits, not on a hill, yet on an eminence sufficient to command the view of the plain on all sides. Not content, however, with the view from the height itself, we resolved to ascend the old square tower in the centre, which, in many respects, very much resembles one of

* The word translated “beauty” in our version, is much more generally rendered “wild-roe,” or gazelle; and in the very next chapter (2 Sam ii. 18): — “Asahel was light of foot as one of the roes of the field.” One inclines, also, to translate it roe or gazelle, from seeing so many of those creatures on these very hills and plains.

VIEW FROM THE TOWER.

our own border strongholds, such as Hermitage Castle in Liddesdale, or Norhani in Northumberland; only it is by no means s<3 large or high. Entering its court we, with no small difficulty, climbed up by the help of broken stairs, projecting stones, and friendly shoulders, to the upper ledge of the wall, where we sat down to look about us. Behind us, at a little distance, was the range of Ed-Duhi, running nearly north-west. To the east rise the mountains of Gilead on the other side of Jordan. From these hills the prophet Elijah could see distinctly this palace of Ahab, and, beyond it, that Carmel to which he so often resorted. Jordan itself we did not see, but the plain slopes gently down towards it, and we discovered where it was. Many miles down, to the south-east, we could recognise Bethshan, now Beisan, in “the borders of the children of Manasseh,” where “dwelt the children of Joseph, the son of Israel,” (1 Chron. vii 29). Yonder the Philistines, after the calamitous battle of Gilboa, “fastened Saul’s body to the wall of Bethshan,” (1 Sam. xxxi. 10). Across the Jordan yonder come the warriors of Gad, the men of Jabesh-Gilead, by night, and carried off the body of their king, bearing it back to Jabesh for burning and for burial, (1 Sam. xxxi. 12). To the west we saw the Carmel range, and thought to trace the course of Elijah as, writh girded loins, he ran over the level plain, before the chariot of Ahab, a distance of some twelve or fourteen miles. We tried to mark also the course of Jehu, when he came up from Ramoth-Gilead to Jezreel against J oram, son of Ahab. Where he crossed the Jordan we know not. It may have been somewhere south of the Jabbok, where Jacob crossed when he came to Shechem and Shalem, from Suceoth, (Gen. xxxiii. 17, 18). At any rate he would come up along the plain of the Jordan, turning the south-eastern flank of Gilboa, between that hill and Bethshan. Then his course would lie almost due west; and driving up along the broad plain of Jezreel, he would be visible from such a tower as this, many miles off. That this castle on which we are standing “is the tower in Jezreel” (2 Kings ix. 17), I do not mean to say; though no doubt this is the spot, and this more modern fort may have risen from the old foundations. The watchman on the tower announces Jehu’s approach, “the driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi, for he driveth in madness,” (2 Kings ix. 20). J oram and Ahaziah prepare their chariots and go out to meet him, and they “met him in the portion of Naboth the Jezreelite.” The south-eastern fountain, A in J alud, about a mile from the village, may thus very probably mark the site of the vineyard of Naboth, the fruitful well-watered spot which Ahab desired for a garden of herbs, (1 Kings xxi. 2). Between that well and the city must have stood AhaVs palace, for Naboth’s u inheritance” was “hard by the palace of Ahab.” The northern fountain, described by Dr Wilson,* from which the village is still supplied with water, may perhaps lay

* Lands of the Bible, vol. ii. 88.

SHUNEM.

claim to the “fountain of Jezreel,” (1 Sam. xxix. 1). On one of the heights of Jebel Jelbun, the village of Wezar was conspicuous. We enjoyed not a little the hour sj3ent upon the walls of this old castle. We obtained from it a remarkably distinct idea of the relative position of the different places in and around the great plain, as well as of the plain itself, stretching, as it may be said to do, from Jenin to Nazareth, from Carmel to the Jordan.

Shortly after noon we left Zerin and proceeded northwards to Solam, the ancient Shunem, where the Philistines pitched before their great victory over Saul (1 Sam. xxviii. 4), whence Abishag came to David in his old age (1 Kings i. 3); where dwelt the “great woman” that entertained Elisha (2 Kings iv. 8). It is not above half an hour from Zerin, on a slight elevation, up which we went, going through most of the village, which is dirty and unpleasant, though its inhabitants looked civil enough. It is surrounded by dense hedges of prickly pear, and our way out lay through a complete avenue formed of that shrub. There seemed some small gardens to the north, with vegetables and fruit-trees. Elisha’s chamber is no longer here; his “bed,” his “table,” his “stool,” his “candlestick,” have disappeared, though, possibly, ecclesiastical tradition might be able to supplement the deficiencies of Jew and Moslem, and tell in what cave or well all these are hidden.

Passing northwards, we crossed the shoulder of Ed-Duhi, on our way to Nain or Nein, which still retains the old name. From this elevation, the view of the plain of Esdraelon is exceedingly fine; and here Jebel et-TUr, or Tabor, comes into view, a high oval hill, like an egg laid upon its side, quite unlike the usual pictures of it Turning the western flank of the hill, we soon came to Nein, which, like the other villages here, stands on a small eminence, part of Ed-Duhi, or little Hermon. We went leisurely through the village, and found its mud-huts poor enough. There is a Moslem mosque and well in it, where we saw several at their prayers.* With all the drawbacks of poverty and meanness, the spot was as full of interest in itself, as in its situation it is pleasant. With Tabor looking down on it, and the hills of Nazareth overshadowing it, and the vast plain stretching out before it, there was much of natural beauty about it to win the eye, while the memory of the Lord himself, brought before us so vividly, doubled all its attractiveness. We had to day been on the track of Saul, and Elijah, and Elisha, but now we are on the footsteps of the Lord himself! He was here as the widow’s friend, and the succourer of her great need, as full of compassion as of power. He stands here as “the resurrection and the life,” a vanquisher of that which is the cause of earth’s many tears. “0 death, I will be thy plague; 0 grave, I will be thy destruction.” He took

* When the old French ecclesiastic visited the place, he found about a hundred families of Mahommedans, “aussi sauvages que des tygres.” — La Terre Saincte, par Eugene Roger. 1646. P. 72.

PLAIN OF ESDRAELON.

Lazarus out of the tomb; here he meets the body on its way to the tomb. “Lazarus, come forth,” is his one command Young man, I say unto thee, arise,” is the other. “Loose him and let him ago,” does not come up to the exceeding tenderness of “delivering him to his mother!” What a gift to a widow! Nor does it lessen the greatness of the gift to know, that the right to bestow it was to be purchased by the surrender of his own life as the ransom.

About half-past one we leave Nam, on our way to Nazareth, crossing the rest of the plain. The day was still bright, and the sky all but cloudless. The anemonies here are of all colours, of a very large size, and cover immense fields. But the chief plant seems to be the thistle, which we meet with in all directions. As this is but spring, the new crop is barely above ground, and only here and there we meet with the dried relics of last year’s vegetation. But we are told that the size of these thistles is immense, so that it is impossible to force your way through them, even on horseback, when in full growth. They are of the species which we see often at home, the variegated thistle,* being a dark green prickly leaf slightly streaked with white. Every where we meet with indications of the enormous fertility of the land. Its plains are said to be capable of yielding five or six crops annually, and these of the richest kind, without manure and without

* M Les herbt- s y croissent tellemeat hautes qu* a peine peut-on decouvrir un homme a cheval.” — Roger, La Terre Saincte, &c, p. 73. scourging the soil. Whether this be actually the case or not, no one can look on such a plain as this (or that of Sanur, if drained), without acknowledging that Palestine is not called fruitful in Scripture, merely because of its contrast with the desert, but because it really is surpassingly rich in soil. But there is no hand to till it; nor is there skill or money, even though the hands were here. What Arab farmer would or could do justice to Esdraelon? All that you can expect from such a one, is to sow a little seed and let the soil do justice to itself.

We soon reached the foot of the steep hill in the bosom of which Nazareth is hidden, 800 feet above us. We found there were two roads from the plain, though they unite some hundred feet up. The one goes up the deep ravine, and is half a mile westward of the point where we touched the hill. The other is steeper and more precipitous, going up from the spot to which we had come, and then winding round the rocky shoulder of the hill, till it strikes into the ravine and joins the former. We chose the latter, and commenced the ascent. At first it was not difficult, and the grassy ledges, fringed with shrubs and trees, formed a good enough road. But we soon came to rocks, up which we ourselves might climb, but which our Syrian ponies would not face. Back we went a few yards, and tried another a little way higher up; till, after several failures and slippings, both of man and beast, we reached a sort of ledge where a road was visible. It was rough and difficult, but we pushed on. till in the course of ten minutes we

THE RAVINE-ASCENT TO NAZARETH.

found ourselves in the ravine, and upon the main road, if one can call it by such a name; a road which was little better than a succession of rocky slopes and ledges, rugged with holes and stones. Yet this was the old road to Nazareth! There could be no other from this side, so that one travelling from the south must necessarily have taken it.

Up this toilsome steep, through this rugged defile, the Son of God had often passed. That old road up to Nazareth! What thoughts it awoke! Up that old road Joseph and Mary had carried the infant child. Up and down that old road had Jesus gone, times without number.

Slowly we toiled up the ravine, which is in some places very narrow, in others wider and more open. We passed a well or tank which must be meant for the supply of some village at hand. We came to a place where two roads met, and after some hesitation (for we were alone, our men having gone on before) we took the right hand one. I suppose that on the left hand would have led us to the village of Ydfa, supposed to be the Japhea of Scripture,* and the Japka of Josephus.f In five or ten minutes more, at a sudden bend of the hill, El-Nazirah (Nazareth) came into view, in a beautiful hollow, like a mountain-nest, or rather on the western slope of the hollow. We had first to descend in order to enter the town; then we ascended to get through it and reach our tents, which were pitched

* Josh. xix. 12. f J. W. ii. 20, 6; iii. 7, 81. upon its north-western side. The town has its mudhovels, but it has also its stone-houses, which, with mosque, minaret, and convent, to set them off, present a most attractive appearance. At four o’clock we reached our tents, and were made to listen to a tale of peril from our dragoman, who affirmed that a troop of spear-armed Bedawin had swept by him in the middle of the plain, looking terror and plunder. No attack, however, was made and no injury done; so, whether it were a real adventure, or an Arab boast, we were left to guess.

I went out immediately to survey the neighbourhood, for the interior of the town had few attractions. I betook myself to a broken piece of elevated ground that rose to the north. There I sat down under a fig-tree to gaze upon the town beneath and the rugged mountainbasin around. The upper ridges of the hills were, as is usual in this worn-out land, grey and bare, but the lower slopes, and dells, and hollows were greener, sprinkled, not scantily, with the olive, the fig, the prickly pear, and the karub, while in the gardens clusters of the usual oriental fruit-trees shewed themselves. I was alone; with no passer-by to disturb, and with nothing to distract the eye from the one object lying before me, the early home of Jesus. Out of one of the trees beside me some turtle-doves flew, adding to the interest of the scene, and calling the thought more vividly to the scripture-memories that gather round this city. The Son of God had been here; not once or twice; but times without number. Here he had spent childhood, boyhood, manhood, wandering over these hills, or sitting under some

THE HOME OF THE REJECTED.

such fig-tree as that which now shades me from the sun. Here he had endured the contradiction of sinners against himself, and entered into the experience of many a sorrowful Psalm.

For thy sake I have borne reproach,

Shame hath covered my face.

I am become a stranger unto my brethren,

And an alien unto my mother’s children,

I wept my soul away in fasting;

That was to my reproach. (Psa. lxix. 7-20.)

It was here that he was “rejected of men” and if there is one place more than another, that bears witness to mails hatred of God and of his holy Son, it is Nazareth. Its inhabitants had known him well, and their assault on him was no outbreak of anger against a stranger, but the speaking out of man’s heart against God. He had just come from Jordan where he had been acknowledged of God as His beloved Son; and man’s first act is to refuse himself and his claims. The accepted of God is the rejected of man.

I returned from, my walk between five and six, and found my way back to the tent through endless hedges of prickly pear. Later in the evening we went out to enjoy the moonlight. The town and valley were of course but dimly seen, but still the growing moon shewed us the scene in its own mild, dreamy way. Some lights were visible in the town; and the minaret of the mosque was lighted up, with some “wonderful lamp,” in token, I suppose, of fast or festival. Moonlight over Nazareth! It will not soon be forgotten. It was pleasanter by far than moonlight upon Sinai,