# Domestic Life in Palestine/Chapter 6

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CHAPTER VI.
FROM HÂIFA TO NAZARETH.
On Saturday, October 13th, we made ready for a trip to Nazareth—Nâsirah—to meet Mr. Finn there. We started at about three o'clock in the afternoon, accompanied by our friend Saleh Sekhali, one kawass, and an Egyptian groom. We went out at the east gate, crossed the burial-ground, approached the Carmel range, and skirted the base of the hills, which are overgrown with low brushwood and ever-green oaks. We took a south-easterly direction, with the terraced slopes on our right hand, and a marshy plain on our left, all bright with lush-green grass, tall rushes, and reeds in full blossom.
We met strings of camels bringing grain from the Haurân, for the merchants in Hâifa and ’Akka. The peasants and camel-drivers were all fully armed, and seemed as ready for attack as for defense.
Presently we passed a more peaceful-looking party, consisting of a family belonging to the next village. First came a young girl, wearing a rather short open dress of old striped crimson silk, made like a very scanty dressing gown, a long white shirt of very coarse heavy linen, and a shawl-girdle fastened low. A purple scarf sheltered her head and face — all but her large dark eyes, and fell over her shoulders. She walked barefoot, and carried her yellow shoes in her hands. A woman with an infant son in her arms followed, riding on a large white donkey, which was urged on by a man who walked close behind. We exchanged greetings, and the strangers said to us, "May Allah lead you in the path that is straight!" In about forty minutes we reached the spring of Sa'adeh, which sup​plies one of the tributary streams of the Kishon. It gushes out of a deep, cavernous recess in the steep cliff, and forms a large, spreading, natural reservoir, where many kinds of ferns are fostered. Saleh told me that Arab poets call a stream "a daughter of the hills." He led the way where he knew there were firm stepping-stones, and we splashed through water, in some parts about two feet deep, guiding our horses between masses of rock and great stone bowlders, surrounded by tall trees and water-plants. Our progress was somewhat impeded by a number of goats and cattle, which were being led to the fountain.
Just beyond this we saw, high up on the hills on our right, a picturesque-looking Moslem village, called Kefr-esh-Sheik. On the flat roofs of its white stone huts there were little Summer-houses, made of tree branches, long palm fronds, and reeds. Most of the villagers in this district make these pleasant shelters in the Summer-time. It reminded me of the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles. Busy groups were on the thrashing-floors. A man was winnowing a heap of wheat, by lifting up as much as he could at a time, and as he let it fall gradually, the wind carried away the chaff. We lingered a moment by the old stone well in the olive grove; near to it we saw a number of strong masculine-looking laughing girls. In a few minutes we came to the little village of Ain-jûr, with palm trees and flourishing gardens round it. At this point we turned away from the hills, and made our way across the fertile plain.
A serpentine line of verdure marks the course of the Kishon. We approached it where it flows between steep banks of rich loamy soil, nearly fifteen feet high, bordered with fine oleanders, wild lupins, tall and blue, and St. John's wort, covered with golden flowers. There was not much water flowing, for there had not been any rain in Galilee for a long time; but the muddy bed, which at this spot is about twenty feet broad, seemed to me as if it would swallow us up. ​I have seen this stream swollen and rapid, after heavy rains, when the Winter torrents of Galilee and Carmel flow into it; then it is a river "with waters to swim in, a river that can not be passed over;" and I can well imagine the hosts of Sisera, his chariots and horses, struggling there; and how "the River Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the River Kishon." Judges v, 21. We crossed safely, and rode on, due east, to traverse some rounded hills, crowned with evergreen oaks, hawthorns, and syringas. I have seen them in the Spring-time full of blossom, when the ground which they shelter is carpeted with hyacinths, cyclamen, anemones, and narcissus. This is one of the most extensive oak woods in Galilee, the oak leaves are small and prickly, and the acorns large and long.
Here cheetahs are sometimes captured and killed—for the sake of their skins, which are made into saddle-cloths—foxes have their holes, and hyenas, cats, jackals, and wild boars abound. The town Arabs are by no means enthusiastic hunters. A Nimrod is rarely met with now, except among the European colonists.
In a little open glade we dismounted, and rested just outside the solitary tent of a peasant, while we took some refreshing fruit, then we hastened on again. These hills are renowned for echoes, which are called by Arabs, "the daughters of sound." My companions brought them forth, by firing their guns and shouting, and they made the forest ring with their songs; at its eastern extremity the trees grow so closely together, and the branches hang so low, that I had to ride cautiously, to avoid sharing the fate of Absalom. When we came out of the wood, we found our selves on the brow of a high, steep, and terraced declivity. The smooth plain of Esdraelon Minor was immediately below us, one half of it shaded by the hills on which we stood, and the other half, as well as the opposite hills, were in bright sunlight. The little village of Nain was pointed out to me far away on the right.
We descended by a pleasant winding road, the trees ​were more and more scattered, and at the foot of the hill only low brushwood grew.
We cantered across the plain, and ascended a low rounded hill, on which stood a village, literally formed of dust and ashes. The mud-hovels looked like dust-heaps, and their interiors were little better than dust-holes; but out of these abodes heaps of clothing crawled, scarcely looking like human beings, till they slowly rose, assuming forms of strange grace and dignity, and gazed at us with serious and untroubled eyes. We saw a group of old women leaning over a square hole dug in the ground. Saleh told me that this was the village oven. The bottom of it glowed with red heat. The fuel, composed of peat and dried dung, was partially covered with stones, upon which thin flat loaves are thrown and quickly baked. When quite new, the bread thus prepared is crisp outside and rather soft within; but, when a day old, it is of the consistency of leather, and very indigestible. The women, in their dusky vails and dresses, crouching round that primitive oven, reminded me of the incantation scene in "Macbeth." The children of the place were beautiful, though bronzed by the sun, and smeared with dust and dirt. Some were clothed in rags of all colors, but the majority were quite naked.
We looked back across the plain; the sun had gone down behind the wooded hills, and red watch-fires gleamed here and there on the terraces and in the plain—guides and beacons for the shepherds and the fellahîn. Presently a party of wild-looking Arabs met us. Their leader was the son of a cavalry officer, who had just been dismissed from Turkish service. He and his followers were desperate fellows, noted for deeds of daring. They saluted us, and said that they had come on purpose to meet and escort us to Nazareth. This was quite an impromptu invention, for no one but Mr. Finn knew of our intention to go ​to Nazareth; however, they turned and accompanied us. They looked very picturesque. Their large, heavy cloaks were made of camel’s-hair, with broad brown and white stripes. On their heads they wore red and yellow kefias—fringed shawls—put on like hoods, and fastened round the crown with double ropes, made of camel's-hair. Their spears, adorned with ostrich-feathers, were twelve or thirteen feet long.
We paused at a spring, festooned with ferns and bordered with mossy stones, and alighted for a few minutes to water our horses. When Saleh was on the point of remounting, his mare suddenly started off, and soon disappeared in the dusky distance. Saleh was quite disconcerted; for the animal was a favorite one, and so docile that it was never considered necessary to tether her. She was accustomed to follow her master, and to obey his call like a dog. Saleh remembered that the village of which his mare was a native was about a quarter of an hour's distance from the spring, and this explained the cause of the flight. He immediately mounted a horse belonging to one of the Arabs and galloped away. He actually found his mare standing quietly in the court of the house in which she had been born, surrounded by her former owners, who were marveling greatly. Saleh rejoined us, and we soon entered the hill-country which encircles Nazareth. Our volunteer attendants rode now before and now behind, singing and shouting. Higher and higher we rose, meeting the fresh mountain air. It was so dark that I could only just perceive the figure immediately before me, and the loose white stones which clattered under my horse's feet, and the smooth slabs of rock over which he every now and then slipped and stumbled.
For about an hour I rode on silently, hardly knowing where I was going, but following in faith the steps of my leader. I was roused from a reverie by the words, "We are entering the olive-groves of Nazareth." I could just distinguish a range of hills, forming an amphitheater in ​the shape of a horseshoe, and the extent of the town could be traced by the lights gleaming from the windows of the houses which thickly dotted the valley below, and were grouped here and there on the hill-sides. The Arabs keep lamps burning in their rooms all night to chase away evil spirits. We descended abruptly between hedges of prickly pears, greeted by loudly-barking dogs, and inhaling a close, suffocating odor of dust and decayed vegetables. The word, "Hold your horse's head well up, for it is very steep here," prepared me now and then for a jerk down some rocky ledge or dusty declivity. At last we were safe in the valley; our escort disappeared; and we were led to the roomy but half-deserted house of Saleh, where he had resided till the death of his father, a few months previous, and where his brother and young sisters still lived. Two empty rooms were soon swept and garnished by men and boys, who brought a supply of matting, mattresses, cushions, and pillows from another part of the house, and we made ourselves at home. While we took supper, Saleh told me that his father, the head of a large family, had during his lifetime accumulated a considerable sum of money, which he kept in a secret place, probably buried. It was expected that he would someday tell his heirs where the treasure was concealed, but unhappily he was on a journey from Tiberias "when the Angel of Death met him." He was surrounded only by servants and strangers, to whom he could not intrust the important communication, and there was no time to send for his sons; so he died, and the secret died with him. Saleh, the eldest son, caused careful search to be made in and under the premises, but up to this time the property had not been found.
It is a very common practice, especially in the interior, to secrete jewels and gold in this way, and ancient deposits of great intrinsic value—and still greater interest as works of art and illustrations of history—are sometimes found.
The law of treasure-trove in Palestine, I believe, awards ​one-third to the finder, one-third to the owner of the ground on which the property is found, and one-third to the Government.
There are certain men who spend nearly all their lives in seeking for—kanûz—hidden treasures. Some of them become maniacs, desert their families, and though they are often so poor that they beg their way from door to door, and from village to village, they believe themselves to be rich. There are others, who are called "sahiri"—necromancers—who seem to work systematically, and have a very curious method of prosecuting the search.
They select certain sensitive individuals, who are believed to have the power of seeing objects concealed in the earth, or elsewhere; but the faculty is only active when roused by the influence of necromantic ceremonies, which are understood by the professional treasure-seeker. He properly prepares the medium, and calls into full activity the visionary power; then, in obedience to his command, the hiding places of treasures are said to be minutely described. On being restored to the normal state, the medium does not remember any of the revelations which may have been made. The practice of this art is considered "haram"—that is, unlawful, and is carried on secretly and not extensively. Those people of whom I made inquiries on the subject spoke with fear and trembling, and mysteriously whispered their explanations.
I knew an Arab family, of which all the female members are believed to be seers (clairvoyants?). They are all nervous and excitable to a high degree, and one of them is slightly deranged in intellect.
Till a late hour visitors flocked in to see us, for our ​arrival was soon known throughout the Christian quarter. First came Jirius el Yakûb, with his fat, burly figure, his crisp gray beard and twinkling eyes shining from under a large shawl turban. He is Mr. Finn's agent for Nazareth, and is very proud of his office, and of the few words of English which he can speak.
Saleh 's pretty little sister, "Jalîly "—that is, "the Glorious"—led me to the room prepared for me. Her age was about eleven, and her face the fairest I had seen in Palestine. It was a pure oval, with a straight nose, small, well defined lips, long dark lashes, and delicately-penciled eyebrows. The edges of her eyelids were strongly tinged with kohl, which gave strange power to large, melancholy gray eyes. Her finger-nails were slightly stained with henna, and her toe-nails deeply dyed. She wore a violet-colored muslin kerchief folded over her soft, brown hair, crossed under her chin, and tied in a bow at the top of her head. Her dress was green, edged with yellow braid, and open at the throat, showing a necklace of silver and coral ornaments.
(I think that green is a favorite color among Christian Arabs now, because, till lately, they were forbidden to wear it, for the Moslems regard it as their sacred color.)
I awoke, and rose early, for a half-opened door, which I had not noticed by the dim lamp of the previous night, attracted my attention. Just within it were three narrow steps, each higher than my knee. I climbed up, and turning sharply round, groped my way up three other steps, still more steep, and then stumbled against a low, cracked wooden door, which I unfastened with difficulty. When it burst open I found that it led to a terraced roof, to which there was no other access. The roof was high, and commanded a beautiful view of the town, with its mosque and ​minarets, surrounded by tall, dark cypress-trees, and the convent buildings conspicuous in the Christian quarter. The mists were gradually passing away from the valley and floating up the hill-sides. The houses are of white limestone, square and flat-roofed; they look clean and cheerful. The ancient "city was built on a hill," but modern Nazareth, which is unwalled, has gradually crept into the valley, at the bottom of which all the newest and largest houses are erected.
Little Jalîly was in an open court below with some women servants, who were making bread and chopping meat. She saw me, and ran up to greet me, saying, "May the day be white to you!" then she taught me the usual answer, "May it be to you as milk!"
It was Sunday. We went to the Latin Church of the Annunciation. We made our way through the nave, which is large and lofty. One side was crowded with men and boys bareheaded, and the other side occupied by women, kneeling on the marble pavement in rows. Their foreheads and the lower parts of their faces were quite concealed by folds of muslin and linen. As we passed by, they with one accord raised their heads for a moment, and their bright dark eyes flashed upon us from under their kohl-tinged lids like a gleam of lightning, then they bent their heads low and resumed their devotions.
The Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem was confirming a number of children. Mass was celebrated, with more than usual pomp, by some illustrious ecclesiastics and visitors from Rome. The organ was well touched by one of the monks, and the chanting was magnificent.
When this was over, we went down to see the Grotto of the Virgin. It is underground, just beneath the high altar. On the broad stone stairs leading to it, a troop of little Arab girls, belonging to the convent school, were seated. They looked full of animation and childish mischief, and the nuns or sisters of mercy, in whose charge they were, had great difficulty in keeping them in order. The children ​were dressed in native costume. The nuns, who are very superior, lady-like French women, wore white caps, with broad plain muslin frills, and little black hoods over them, and the plainest of plain black stuff dresses. They looked very quaint, but cheerful and lovable. They are most persevering in their schemes for proselytizing and educating Arab girls. Some of their pupils speak a little French, but it is very difficult to secure the regular attendance of children at the schools. They are sad little truants.
One of the sisters is a careful doctor and skillful surgeon, and thus obtains great influence over the natives, to whom she distributes medicines supplied from France. A Hakîm—a doctor of medicine, male or female—can gain admittance and respect almost any where. A Romish missionary staff is never considered complete without a good physician.
The children, marshaled by the Sisters of Mercy, made way for us, and we went down to the Altar of the Virgin. It is of pure white alabaster, laboriously and elaborately carved, but badly designed, rococo. Sweet basil bloomed all round it, and tapers burned there brightly. Near it is a part of a granite column, said by a monkish tradition which is indorsed by the Church—to be a fragment of the very room in which Mary stood when the angel Gabriel appeared to her. The room itself was conveyed by a miracle to Dalmatia, and afterward to Loretta, where thousands of pilgrims visit it! The kitchen of the Virgin is still shown under the church at Nazareth. Women now and then came down the steps and prostrated themselves, beating their breasts, and repeating Ave Marias, in Arabic, as rapidly as possible; then they kissed three spots indicated by ornament on the pavement under the altar. The walls of the church are hung with painted linen, which produces exactly the effect of fine old tapestry, and I did not discover that it was only imitation till I handled it. In the court-yard of the convent there are several fragments of ancient stone carving introduced in the modern ​walls. We went to the Protestant Mission-House, and heard service in Arabic. Some pretty children and a few intelligent-looking men attended it. The pastor and school-teachers are Germans, but connected with the Anglican Church.
All the Latins of Nazareth were in their gayest dresses that day to do honor to the visit of their Patriarch. We met him walking with a little troop of monks and priests. He is a most remarkable-looking man, and wears a pale beard, at least half a yard long, parted in the middle. His broad-brimmed hat, nearly three-quarters of a yard in diameter, is trimmed with artificial colored flowers, and glossy green leaves of metallic luster. The people crowded round him to kiss his hands and to secure his blessing.
The usual dress of the men of Nazareth is bright and cheerful-looking, consisting of a sort of long dressing-gown, made of a mixture of silk and cotton, in patterns of very narrow stripes, commonly either red and purple, violet and yellow, green and blue, or purple and white. This is girdled with a shawl, or a broad leather belt, lined and stitched, with pockets and purses made in it. Red and yellow kefias—shawls with long knotted fringes—are worn in the town as turbans, but are generally put on like hoods for traveling.
The women, who are very handsome, but rather bold looking, use a great deal of kohl for their eyelids; they tattoo their arms profusely and their faces slightly. Their head-dress is very peculiar; it is a tight-fitting cap, made of cloth or linen, with a thick, firmly-padded roll, one or two inches in diameter, round the front, just covering the highest part of the head, and fastened with strings, but not quite meeting under the chin. To this roll silver coins are sewed, as close together as it is possible to place them, except that a little space is left at the top ​of the head, and the coins fall, lapping one on the other, down each side of the face, and a little below the chin; at a distance it looks like a bonnet-front. Women wear coins as large as crowns or half-crowns; children generally have small ones, about the size of shillings. Muslin shawls or vails, of various colors or black, are folded across the forehead and over the lower part of the face; so that, out of doors, the eyes only are exposed. When in-doors, the lower folds are slipped below the chin; but the forehead is nearly always concealed, except by very young girls. They wear loose trowsers, white shirts, and long dresses, open entirely in front, made of striped cotton or Damascus silk, and girdled below the waist.
I went to Nazareth several times, and visited many of the Christian women in their homes. I found, generally, a great want of order and cleanliness among them. They are very proud of their town, and are constantly invoking "El Sit Miriam"—"the Lady Mary." Their faith in, and reverence for, relics is unbounded. In all their rooms I saw holy pictures, little images, and small crystal or glass cases of fragments of bones and rags. Rings are constantly worn as charms.
I asked a little child, who had once visited Haifa, whether she preferred Hâifa and the beautiful sea, or Nâsirah. She answered directly, "Hâifa is not a holy place; but this town is holy; our Lady Mary lived here, and Christ, and Joseph." But although Nazareth is reckoned a holy place, it is by no means remarkable for its morality. In this respect it strikingly contrasts with Bethlehem, where the fathers and husbands are said to be severe and rigid disciplinarians, and where dishonor is punished with certain death. Nazareth had not a very good reputation in the time of Christ, and it does not appear to have improved.
I find that the younger girls are beginning to dispense with the coin head-dresses. They adopt, instead, the more simple red tarbûsh and mundîl. I expect that soon these curious and weighty ornaments will only be found in the ​smaller towns and villages of Galilee. Some silver anklets were shown to me, and described as "old-fashioned," but plain bracelets of silver, gold, or glass, are universally worn. I purchased one, formed of a twist of thick silver, with a very broad, clumsily-made, jeweled ring attached to it by a chain, also of wrought silver. The ring was intended to be worn on the fore-finger. One of my Nazarene friends told me that only the fellahin would wear any thing so barbarous and old-fashioned.
The change which is gradually being made here in the costume of the women does not depend on direct European or priestly influence, but simply on fashions introduced by settlers and visitors from other Oriental towns, specially Hâifa. The display in the bazars of jewelry and silk tasseled caps from Stamboul, and colored muslirn mundîls from European Turkey and Switzerland is accelerating the change. The supply creates a demand.
On Monday, the 15th, I called, with my brother and Saleh, on Luîs Khalîl, a wealthy native of Nazareth, who had lately built a handsome house of hewn stone. He had just returned from a trip to Marseilles, where he had been purchasing furniture for it. The terraces, courts, and corridors were tastefully bordered with beds of roses, pinks, and sweet basil, edged with broad stone copings. The surface of the walls of the inner courts was very much decorated with rudely-carved, round pateræ, of interlacing designs, in low relief. Over the doors and windows, and in other prominent positions, English-made willow-pattern cheese-plates were introduced, imbedded in stucco, as encaustic tiles might be. The owner of the house called my attention to this novel application of cheese-plates. He told me that he had himself designed the house and its decorations. The new European furniture was almost as singularly disposed of as the willow -pattern plates were. His unsophisticated wife and daughters marveled exceedingly at some of his purchases in Marseilles, and seemed rather more per​plexed than pleased by them. His drawing-room, which was something like a French salon, with its mirrors and marble tables, was frescoed by a native of Nazareth, who had been tutored and employed by the Franciscan monks in church mural decoration. On the panels of the doors he had painted groups of flowers, very carefully and laboriously; but they did not produce a good effect.
Our host was the great man of his community after this trip to Marseilles, and, owing to his wealth and this famous journey, was for a time reckoned as a prophet, even in his own country. But, notwithstanding the comparative grandeur of his salon, those rooms of the house occupied by the women, and the cooking-places, were as untidy and inconvenient as the poorest establishments in the town. He was dressed in a suit of fine black cloth—full Turkish trowsers and tight jacket—a shawl girdle and polished boots—a small, red, cloth tarbûsh, with a muslin kerchief over it, fastened smoothly round his forehead. He wore a gold chain, as massive as an alderman's, outside his dress, and several rings on his fingers. His wife, however, retains her Nazareth costume intact, and evidently does not approve of innovations.
The Turkish Governor of the town called while we were there. He confidentially told my brother that the people of Nazareth were so proud and daring that he could do nothing with them.
We rode out presently, in a northerly direction, to meet Mr. Finn. Our host joined us, and a large party followed, including the Governor on a chestnut charger, decked with purple trappings adorned with mother-of-pearl. After a pleasant ride, we met the Consular party. By sunset their tents were pitched, and the English flag was waving over them in a pleasant olive-grove, just outside the town.
The next day Mr. Finn invited us to accompany him to Mount Tabor. We started at noon. It was oppressively hot. Gently, and almost silently, we rode toward the east, over hills sweet with wild thyme, and dark with thorny ​bushes—through valleys green with fennel, or rugged with rocks overgrown with gray lichens and amber-colored moss. Now and then we passed a clump of leafless bushes, every branch of which was covered with small, white, edible snails, which I mistook at first for buds. The only flowers I saw were the crane's-bill, goat's-beard, and small Indian pinks. Mount Tabor was full in view, like an irregular dark cone, rising above the other hills. In about an hour we entered a hilly and wooded district. The cool, pleasant shade of trees, and the songs of birds, roused and refreshed us, and, in groups of twos and threes, pleasantly chatting, we pursued our way. Mount Tabor, which had appeared to me to be gradually retreating as we advanced, was now quite out of sight; but after we had traversed some wood-crowned hills, and the dry beds of two or three Winter torrents, we saw it again, in all its beauty and grandeur. We hastened over a tree-covered slope, and down a fertile valley, and reached its base at about two o'clock. We gradually ascended an easy-winding path, pleasantly shaded, till we were about half-way up, when rocks and steep stone ledges, ancient masonry, and overhanging branches, obliged us to look cautiously before us, and to follow the steps of the leader carefully. Oaks—whence galls are procured—arbutus, pistacia vera, pistacia terebinthus—which yields what is called Venice turpentine—pistacia lentiscus—producing gum mastich—and locust-trees abound. They were wreathed with glossy-leaved creepers, but nearly every plant or shrub which I touched was armed with thorns as sharp as fine needles.
Looking down the steepest side, we could see the wide spread wings of eagles as they hovered just below us, or swept rapidly through the air. Black and fawn-colored vultures appeared with their bright pinions perfectly poised and almost motionless, supporting them in steady downward flight in spiral circles. As they rose again, their wings were set in motion, and I felt the disturbance of the air now and then when they passed near to us. In trying to ​watch their circular sailing and heavenward wanderings I nearly reeled from my horse. They rose higher and higher, spirally, till they were quite indiscernible to the naked eye.
We alighted on the summit of the hill, at a quarter to three, on a smooth plateau surrounded by large masses of hewn stone and the foundations of strong walls. On one side there is an archway called "Babel How-a," Gate of the Winds. On the other side we saw part of a ruined chapel and an altar in an apse, a limestone cave and a cistern hewn in the rock, and two or three patches of ground cultivated by a Russian hermit, named Erinna of Bucharest, who had lived on this mountain for fourteen years.
Once when I spent a long day here, with Colonel and the Honorable Mrs. Fred. Walpole, I took his portrait, and he told me the story of his life. His father, he said, was an extensive land proprietor in the Crimea, where he was born, but he went afterward to Bucharest. One night Erinna dreamed that an angel appeared to him and said, "Arise and go into the land which I will show you." This disturbed him very much, and all day the words were ringing in his ears. The next night the angel, in shining raiment, appeared again in a dream and repeated the words, led him through the air and showed him a mountain with a little cavern on its summit. On the third night the angel led him again to the mountain and told him that he was to dwell in the cavern. Erinna was so impressed by these dreams, or visions as he called them, that he took leave of his family, and for twenty years traveled in Russia, Greece, Egypt, and Syria, to seek for the mountain of his dream. At last he recognized the cave on Mount Tabor, and immediately took up his abode there, for he was convinced that it was the place indicated by the angel. He was then eighty-four years of age, and he said, "I thought I should soon die, but I am now heartier than ever, and yet I am nearly one hundred years ​old." One Winter's night, as he slept alone in his cave, he felt something soft and warm crouching by his side. He found it was a young leopard or panther: he gave it food and made friends with it, so that it would follow him about like a pet cat. For a long time Erinna and his four-footed favorite were the lions of Mount Tabor.
Erinna, like Robinson Crusoe, after years of solitude, found "his man Friday;" a fellow-countryman, a sturdy-looking, rather silent, middle-aged man, who volunteered to superintend the little field of wheat and barley, to cut wood for firing, and to fetch water from the rock cisterns. He called himself the hermit's servant, and hoped to inherit the hermitage, the sheepskin cap, the ragged mantle, and the reputation of Erinna.
The priests of Nazareth, especially the Latins, were very jealous of the influence of this anchorite, for he was regarded by Christian Arabs as a man of peculiar sanctity, and was supposed to enjoy the especial favor of God and his angels. Many people believed that he had the power of performing miracles, though he did not profess it. He told us that the Latins so strongly and perseveringly intrigued against him—representing him as a Russian spy—that he feared he should be banished from the country. He occasionally visited the sick at Nazareth and the neighboring villages: once he came to see us at Hâifa. He never tasted meat; his chief food was rice and oil, of which he purchased a store once a year. He kept a few goats for the sake of their milk; cultivated a little garden of herbs and vegetables; gathered wild fruit, and took "honey out of" the nests in "the rocks;" see Psalm lxxxi, 16. He made us some excellent coffee, of which he generally had a supply, chiefly for guests, that is, Christian pilgrims and travelers. He did not make the slightest attempt to render his cave clean or comfortable. Rude niches in the rocky walls served to hold his few books and a little red earthenware lamp. A mat of reeds, some heavy clothing and sheepskins on a stone ledge formed his bed. His com​panion, who belonged to the peasant class, occupied a cell close to it, which was used as the kitchen or cooking place. Two very rough delf dishes, two wooden bowls and spoons, and a metal stew-pan were to be seen there.
I asked Erinna if he had ever been married. He said that Mount Tabor was his only bride.
He and "his man Friday" assured me that they were very happy, and they looked so. They divided their days regularly, and worked, prayed, ate and slept systematically, but they seemed to think ablution unnecessary, and they wore the same clothes day and night. Erinna was ruddy and hearty, and though his bushy beard was quite white, he did not look aş old as he reckons himself to be.
The view from Mount Tabor is very extensive; it over looks the plain of Esdraelon Proper, which is divided into squares and patches of cultivated land; it appeared from the distance like a rude mosaic, of every tint of orange, yellow,gray, green, brown, and lavender. Not a house, tent, or village could be seen to break its monotony, nor even a tree to cast a shadow; but the hills which surround it were clothed with woods, and dotted with towns, hamlets, and ruins. Mr. Finn said, "Fancy Barak with his 10,000 men upon this mountain; people that plain with the chariots, 'even 900 chariots of iron,' gathered together by Sisera, and see Sisera pursued by Barak unto Harosheth." He read the landscape round for me, pointing out the range of Carmel and the Mediterranean on the west—the hills of Gilboa and the villages of Jezreel, Endor, and Nain in the south—the hill-country beyond Jordan, and the mountains which encircle the Sea of Galilee on the east, and far away in the north Lebanon crowned with snow. Nearer to us we could see the Horns of Hattin—a rounded hill with two distinct mounds or peaks on its summit. This is called the Mount of Beatitudes, where tradition tells us that the Sermon of sermons was preached. After exploring the ruins and the ​deep cisterns, we remounted. The sun had quite disappeared when we reached the foot of the hill. (On one occasion I walked down the steepest side of Tabor, with the help of a stout stick and a strong arm.)
The Rev. J. L. Porter says that Tabor rises 1,400 feet above the plain, and the plain is 500 feet above the level of the sea.
We had a pleasant ride back to Nazareth by moonlight. We spent the evening at the Consular encampment, and at a late hour walked up by lantern-light to Saleh's house.
The next morning I sat in the deep embrasure of a window, sketching, while my brother was busy in the midst of a group of Turkish Effendis and Christian scribes. They all carried inkhorns in their girdles, with cases attached to them to hold their reed pens. They sat on the floor and held single sheets of paper in their hands, and wrote with out any desk or support. The points of reed pens are so delicate, that they would be easily fractured by pressure on a hard table or desk.
The population of Nazareth is computed by Dr. Robinson thus:
| Moslems .................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... | 680 | | |
| Greeks .................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... | 1,040 | | who look to Russia as their protector. |
| Latins .................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... | 480 | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Adherents of the Pope, and consequently French protégés. |
| Greek Catholics .................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... | 520 | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Adherents of the Pope, and consequently French protégés. |
| Maronites .................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... | 400 | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Adherents of the Pope, and consequently French protégés. |
This gives a total of 3,120; but the most recent and careful inquirers assure me that this estimate is too low. They reckon the total at 4,000, and the Greek Church is said to be on the increase. I never met a Jew either in Nazareth or Bethlehem! There is a small Protestant congregation, which is rather fluctuating.
Khawadja Stephani, the son of the Greek Priest of Shefa 'Amer, came expressly to ask us and Saleh to return to Hâifa by way of his village, and to pass a night there at his house. We arranged to do so, and started soon after midday. We rode for some distance over rocky hills, where ​bees were busy among the blossoming herbs; across plains covered with tall thistles—their harsh stems, leaves, thorns, and spiny flowers were bright with a purple bloom, like that which we see on ripe plums, and from a distance a plain overgrown with them looked like a calm, blue lake. At about two we entered a garden inclosed by a low stone wall, situated at the bottom of a well-watered valley, where the lemon-trees were laden with green fruit, and pomegranates were plentiful. We dismounted and walked through the garden to the streamlet which traverses it, bordered with hawthorn, rose, and fruit-trees. Its banks, steep and grassy, were fragrant with mint and marjoram, and cresses grew along the edge of the water. Under a wide-spreading fig-tree, where tiny-leaved clover had made a smooth carpet, we spread our saddle-cloths in a half-circle, and took our seats. Soon a plentiful dinner was placed before us. We took it in primitive style, for we had neither forks nor spoons, and our only plates were thin Arab loaves, about a quarter of a yard in diameter and a quarter of an inch thick. Saleh made a drinking-cup for me of the large leaf of a water-plant, which he knew to be harmless. Each one of the party, as soon as he had eaten, rose and washed his hands at the stream, and then, selecting another tree for our shade, and a grassy bank for our divan, we rested, telling stories in turn, while the kawasses and servants made an end of the provisions.
In this garden I saw some remarkable double fig-trees, the trunks of which were twisted as perfectly and regularly as if they had been carved. I asked the gardener how he managed it. He said, "Allah Karîm"—"God is bountiful"— and then explained to me how tender saplings are planted side by side, and perseveringly entwined, or even plaited sometimes. He led me to one which he considered more perfect than the others. The twisted trunk was about half a yard in diameter; it rose six feet from the ground, as upright as a marble column, without any branches to break its perfect outline, and then spread out ​its crooked arms in all directions, clothed with green leaves—the largest which I had ever observed. This pleasant garden is near to the fountain which was the gathering-place of the Christian knights before the terrible battle of Hattin, and where the conqueror Saladin encamped after he had in that decisive conflict almost annihilated the Crusaders. Sephoris or Sefurieh is just opposite. It is a poor but interesting place. Jewish, heathen, and Christian ruins are to be found there, and tradition points to the house in which Anna, the mother of Mary, was born.
We mounted at half-past three, and followed the course of the stream. It flowed between orchards, gardens of cucumbers, and stubble-fields. All the horses and their riders seemed newly animated. They rode in circles, displaying feats of horsemanship, letting off their pistols while in full gallop; their long, loose, white Arab cloaks, made of goat's-hair, fluttered behind them, and the almost flying figures represented to my fancy the Templars of old on their fabled white-winged steeds. When the horses were well tired, the riders grouped together, and we rode through an oak-wood, talking of the Crusades. I found that our Arab friends were quite familiar with such names as Peter the Hermit and Richard Cœur de Lion. Oriental—poets and historians call the latter "Ankitâr."
We soon came to an olive-grove, on a hill forming part of an extensive amphitheater, from the center of which rises a mount of conical form, and on it stands Shefa 'Amer, backed by a lofty castle, square and massive, looking almost as large as the village itself. The hillsides, with the exception of the one which we descended, were clothed with evergreens; and the valleys for miles were around were wooded with olive and other fruit-trees. We rode through a burial-ground, tastefully planted with shrubs, and passing an immense heap of dust, dirt, and rubbish—on the top of which a crowd of people had assembled to see us—we entered the village, and alighted ​at the house of Stephani. He led me up an open stone stairway, and along a covered terrace, into a long, lofty, cheerful room, with unglazed windows on three sides of it. One end of the room was furnished with Turkey carpets, narrow mattresses and cushions, which made a comfortable divan. The stuccoed walls were slightly frescoed with rudely-grotesque and droll designs of the most childish character.
Pipes and narghilés were ranged in a recess, and a hand some set of coffee-cups, with silver filagree holders, were on a low stand near the door. In a corner there was a broad, shallow, marble basin let into the floor, with a hole in the center to carry off water. It was the place of ablution, and three water-jars stood near to it.
This room was the "guest chamber," separated from the other part of the establishment.
Stephani said to me, "This is your house, rule over it as you will, command me and my family as your servants."
I was left to rest and to dress, and presently the gentlemen rejoined me.
Guests were coming and going all the evening. First arrived the stately Turkish Governor, a tall figure with a flat face, like a mask of shriveled parchment; in fact he resembled a Chinese mummy much more than a living Turk. He was intensely polite and complimentary, and confidentially complained to us of his poverty, and of the unprofitableness of his office. He was dressed in a suit of snuff-brown cloth, embroidered with gold, and a long sword hung at his side.
The father of Stephani, a very handsome old man with a patriarchal white beard, came and sat by me. He wore a long robe of coarse purple linen, and his turban was of the same color. He is the chief priest of the Greek community of Shefa 'Amer, and neighboring villages. His words were few, but his looks were expressive. He was evidently proud of his sons and of his little grandsons. At a sign from him, the latter came forward from the ​other end of the room to kiss my hands. They were clean, well-dressed, bright-looking boys. The room was full of visitors. Mattresses were spread all round against the walls, and there was not a space vacant, but not one woman came.
It grew dark, and the shutters were closed, when a tall, slender, brass candelabrum was brought in, and placed on the middle of the floor, at the upper end of the room. It supported a large oil lamp, with three wicks. Three long brass chains hung from it—one held a pair of lamp scissors, another a long stout pin which is used to trim the wick, to the third an extinguisher was attached. At the lower end of the room, a large glazed lantern, with tin frame-work, stood on a low wooden stool—these lights shone on a strange and motley assembly. There was an Indian Jew there, with a very dark face and white beard, a dusky turban, and duskier robes. He came forward to claim brotherhood with us, for he was an English subject, and very proud of his nationality. He had journeyed from Hindoostan to see the city of Solomon, and to ascertain the state of the Jews in Palestine. He seemed to be a learned and enterprising man.
Isaac Shallom, a Jew of Aleppo, but a resident at Hâifa, brought me some soft, sweet, white almond paste, with pistachio nuts imbedded in it—a celebrated Aleppo sweetmeat. The Rabbi and chief members of the Jewish community of Shefa 'Amer were also present, with a few Moslems and Druzes, and a number of Christian Arabs. Arrack was handed round from time to time in the lower part of the room, and songs of praise were sung in honor of the chief guests. Saleh, who is no singer, but a very fluent speaker, said, "Ibrahim left his kindred, his home, and his country, he dwelt in a strange land among strangers, but he became mighty in the land, his family increased, his name became great. Even so may the name of Rogers be known throughout this country, may his children and his children's children dwell here in honor!" The idea was ​immediately taken up by the singers, and they improvised a song, the burden of which was, "May his children's children dwell here in honor!"
Some graceful compliments were paid to me, with prayers for my happiness. Then the singing, of which there was a great variety, became general. We heard Egyptian love songs beautifully and plaintively sung by a gardener from the Nile, and a man of Bagdad gave us a curious ditty, jerking out his words at first, and by degrees toning them down into a languishing, drawling melody, in a minor key. The Arabs sang a great many monotonous songs; but one was very sweet—the chorus of it was, "O Bedawiya." I think that this song would please English ears generally.
Isaac, the Jew of Aleppo, was asked to dance for me. The lantern was moved out of the way. He stood up at first very shyly, the Arabs sitting round, singing and clapping their hands, keeping time. He had on very full white drawers, a black jacket, yellow and white silk striped waistcoat, and a shawl sash. Round his red tarbûsh a blue mundîl was folded. He bent his head down and raised his arms above it. By degrees his feet and hands were in slow motion in harmony with the music, and his body swayed to and fro. Soon the songs grew louder, the clapping of hands quicker, and the movements of the dancer more decided, but they were as monotonous as the tunes which inspired them. During the whole of the dance he kept within a circle of about a yard in diameter; at last he spun round and retreated, hiding himself shamefacedly behind his friends.
Supper was announced, and many of the visitors retired. Servants brought in a round stand, about five inches in hight, and covered it with dishes. While this was being arranged, my brother begged to be allowed to fetch a certain man, named Habîb, to sup there. He had once been Stephani's chief friend, but a misunderstanding had arisen between them, consequently the two most influential Chris​tian families in Shefa 'Amer lived as strangers to each other. Stephani readily consented to receive Habîb, who soon came, and the two long-divided friends embraced. They have lived in harmony ever since. Before eating, each one of us had water poured on our hands over the marble basin; for the Christian Arabs, as well as the Moslems, "and all the Jews, except they wash their hands, eat not." This is particularly necessary, considering that they do not use knives and forks; but each one "dips his hand into the dish" with his neighbor.
Stephani at first wished to serve us at supper, instead of sitting down with us, for it is the Arab custom for the host to wait on his guests as a servant. We overcame his scruples, and we ate together. Afterward, water was again poured on our hands—a servant stood by, holding native scented-soap and an embroidered towel—then we had coffee and narghilés.
An Arabic Bible published by the British and Foreign Bible Society—a Roman version, by the by—was brought in, and Saleh read aloud the Sermon on the Mount. Bible history is pretty well known in the Greek community; it is read in their churches in the vulgar tongue, and is not withheld from the laity. The bulk of the people, however, can not read. The few who can do so gladly obtain copies, but the Bible is rarely to be met with, except in those families of which one of the members is a priest or very studious, as Saleh, for instance.
The Greek priests must always be married men. Those of the villages and small towns are often very ignorant, and, as they rarely receive a systematic ecclesiastical training, their expositions and definitions of the articles and dogmas of their Church are very curious and conflicting. Their Bishops and higher clergy are generally foreigners, that is, native Greeks and Russians, and do not often learn Arabic, so they make little or no impression on the Syrian branch of their Church. The Latin clergy, on the other hand, are often quite unfamiliar with the Bible, and always ​strongly oppose its circulation, but are well grounded in matters of discipline and doctrinal points.
The two Churches vie with each other in circulating extraordinary traditions and legends of saints and martyrs, and they equally encourage pilgrimages to holy places and reliance on relics.
Soon after supper the room was cleared of all the smoking, turbaned, fezzed, and singing guests, slaves, and servants. My brother and Saleh went home with Habîb to sleep at his house. I was left alone in the large guest chamber, where Stephani had caused a bed to be made for me. I opened one of the heavy shutters, to see my friends pass round on the side of the hill, five lanterns gleaming before them. I fastened the door with a stiff clumsy lock, the mechanism of which I did not in the least understand, and I soon discovered that I was a self-made prisoner, for I could not find out how to undo it again. I was obliged to resign myself to my fate, making sure I should be set free in the morning. I fell asleep on a soft, crimson silk pillow, under an embroidered lehaff, and did not wake till the sun shone on my face through the chinks of the ill-made shutters. I was up and dressed when Stephani knocked at the door, which he contrived to open. While the room was swept and garnished I went with him to take coffee at the house of Habîb. On my return to my quarters, the female members of the family, their neighbors, and the women servants, came to look at me, but not till they were quite sure of finding me alone. They clustered shyly round the door, and I had to play the part of hostess and invite them to enter in. They were dressed in the same style as the women of Nazareth, and are quite as handsome, but more simple and modest-looking. Stephani's wife, a tall, dark-eyed woman, wore large heavy coins round her face, with a yellow mundîl folded across her forehead and tied at the back of her head; the open front of her red and white cotton dress was trimmed with a double frill, edged with braid. Her eldest daughter, a girl of ten, named Werdeh— ​that is, Rosy—was very beautiful, with regular features, clear bronzed complexion, eyes brown and sparkling, the lids deeply tinged with kohl, and the hands and feet stained with henna. Her thick, dark hair was combed down over her high forehead, and cut straight across it just above her arched eyebrows. At the back her hair was allowed to grow long, and was plaited. She wore a head-dress of coins, for they are not yet going out of fashion in Shefa ’Amer. Her open dress was of white calico, ornamented in front profusely, with black, blue, and red braid. The sleeves were very long, and capable of concealing the hands entirely, but when the arms were raised the sleeves still hung down, for they were open as high as the elbow.
The room was soon crowded with women and girls. Their dresses, though various in point of texture and condition, were all of the same fashion—from the crimson and white striped silk dress of a young bride, to the ragged cotton garments worn by an aged servant, whose head-dress was stripped of all its coins. I was sketching Werdeh and her mother, when suddenly they, and all the rest, rose and scampered away, without saying a word, vailing themselves hastily. The entrance of the Turkish Governor and my brother, a minute afterward, explained their flight.
Little Daoud, the governor's son, came to see me. He wore an olive-colored cloth cloak, and a green muslin turban. His features were regular, but his face was very sallow. He tried to look dignified and composed while I took his portrait, but could not prevent a smile coming now and then. Saleh, and Stephani, with his father, joined us, and after lunch we went all together to the castle. On approaching it, I perceived that it was already falling to decay, although it was only built about 150 years ago. The lofty gates and archways are slightly decorated with fretted canopies, in the style of the Alhambra. A two-storied range of vaulted corridors and chambers surrounds an extensive court-yard. The ground-floor is well adapted for stabling, and would lodge about 500 horses. Tottering ​stone stairways led us to the upper floors. The pointed double windows, in deep embrasures in the outer walls, command magnificent views in all directions.
The west windows overlook the plain of Akka and the sea, with Mount Carmel and Hâifa in the background on the left. The north windows look toward Lebanon, with the city of Akka on the left, and the little town of Abilene in the foreground on the right, its tall white tower standing conspicuously in the midst of olive-trees and gardens. The banners of Richard I once waved there. The southern and eastern views are bounded by hills and mountains, rising one behind the other.
While petitioners for protection crowded round my brother, I wandered from hall to hall and from window to window, with Saleh for my cicerone. We climbed to the top of the embattled walls, and walked nearly all round the building; but the stones are falling, and allowed to remain where they fall, and scarcely any use seems to be made of the place.
As we left the castle, the governor asked me to go with him to see his wives. A glance from my brother told me that I might accept the invitation. Of course, none of the gentlemen could accompany me; so they walked homeward with Stephani, and the governor escorted me to his dreary looking house. A gateway, through which a laden camel could easily pass, led us into an ill-paved guttered court, which was the only entrance to a square vaulted hall, with bare stone walls, and four unglazed windows quite out of reach. The floor was of earth, with smooth rock slabs here and there.
This was the governor's residence—his dining-room, with drawing-room, nursery, stables, and kitchen all together! On one side, just within the door, a mule was feeding; a stone bench, hollowed out a little, was his manger; a patient ass stood by him. On the other side, a tethered horse was neighing; and on a heap of fodder, two dirty, delicate-looking children were kicking and crying out lust​ily. There was a sort of oven, or cooking-place, in one corner of the hall, and I could see the red glow of a charcoal fire. On the left hand there was a broad wooden platform, raised about two feet from the ground, with a low ornamental wooden railing at the edge of it. Here mattresses and lehaffs were piled up; I suppose it was the sleeping-place of the lord of the harem. We went straight across the hall, to a dais, in a broad, arched recess, just opposite to the door by which we had entered. Two crooked stone steps led up to it, and two women—one old and the other young—stood there ready to receive me. They took my hands in theirs, and placed me on a cushioned seat on the matted floor.
The governor introduced me to the younger of the women, telling me that she was his wife, the mother of his little Daoud. She was perhaps twenty, rather tall and graceful-looking, with bright blue eyes and black hair, and a brilliant though dark complexion. She had used kohl and henna freely, and her chin and forehead were tattooed. I think that she was prepared for my coming, for she had on a fête-day dress. A blue cloth jacket, embroidered with gold, very open in front, exposed her tattooed chest, and a white spun silk shirt. Her full trowsers were of Aleppo silk, white and straw-colored. Her shallow red cloth cap was decorated with rows of gold coins, pearls, and everlasting flowers. A long purple tassel hung down behind, and a perforated, flat, crescent-shaped gilt ornament, about five inches wide, was fixed on the top of the head-dress. (Is this the "round tire" like the moon, referred to in Isaiah iii, 18?) Her long hair was plaited, and interwoven with black silk braid, to make it appear still longer. She told me that Shefa 'Amer was not a pleasant place to live in, and that she was quite a stranger there. I asked her what part of the country she came from. She said, "Neby-Daoud is the place of my birth, and the place I love." She referred to a cluster of buildings round the tomb of the Prophet David, or Neby-Daoud, just outside ​the walls of Jerusalem, by the Zion gate. She was happy to hear herself called Um Daoud, that is, "The Mother of David."
The governor interrupted her explanations, by telling her to make some lemonade for me. Close by the two steps of the dais stood a pair of high clogs, almost like stilts, made of inlaid dark wood and mother-of-pearl, with crimson leather straps. She fastened these on her henna stained, naked feet—for the earth floor was very damp and dirty, and water rested here and there in little pools. Her husband followed her, and helped her to reach some green drinking-glasses from a niche in the wall. The other woman, who looked very old and careworn, remained by my side. When the young wife was out of hearing, I exclaimed, "How beautiful she is!" She agreed with me, and seemed to take a mother's pride and pleasure in her beauty. I did not know that the young wife was her rival; I fancied that she was her daughter, till she said, "Um Daoud is young, Um Daoud is happy; she is young, and is the mother of two sons;" (she pointed to a cradle hammock, suspended from the key-stone of the arch above us—in it a little swaddled figure was securely and gently swinging;) "but," she added, "I have no sons left, my sons are dead; and I am old, I am no longer handsome, I am nothing, I am worthless." Then she explained to me that she had lived about twenty years with the governor before he took Um Daoud for his wife. I said to her, alluding to the little ones who had now crawled out of the fodder, "Whose children are they?" She said, "They are sons of the house"—that is, of the governor—and a slave, who stood near the oven, was their mother.
Presently Um Daoud returned with the lemonade. The governor himself brought me a tiny cup of coffee flavored with ambergris. Young Daoud now came in, and seemed delighted to find me there. He said, "Make my mother's face in your book," and, "Make my brother's face for me." The baby-boy was lifted out of the hammock; he was ​about six months old; his eyelids were black with kohl. I asked why kohl was used for a child so young. "It will strengthen the sight of his eyes, and make the lashes long and thick," said the elder woman.
I took leave of them, and found my kawass just outside the house waiting to take me to meet my brother at the Greek church. It is a modern building; silk hangings and gaudy pictures decorate the walls. The font is of marble; I think it is formed of an ancient Byzantine capital, hollowed out at the top. In a school adjoining the church a number of boys were noisily but monotonously intoning psalms, echoing the nasal twang of their teacher. I find that the Psalter is the chief class-book in Christian Arab schools, as the Koran is in Moslem schools. I have often seen boys with these books in their hands, who appear to be reading freely, when in reality they scarcely know their letters, but who repeat, parrot-like, large portions of them by heart.
We afterward went to the Jewish synagogue, where the chief rabbi received us. He showed me several copies of the Law and the Prophets, wrapped in crimson silk cases which are kept in a recess behind an embroidered curtain, or vail. In the middle of the building there was a high circular wooden platform, with seats of honor upon it. It was built so slightly that at first I thought it was only a temporary erection; but I found in all the synagogues which I visited raised central seats of equally slight construction.
The gentlemen then went for a ride. I declined doing so, hoping during their absence to see the women again; and Khawadja Stephani, at my request, sent his wife and children to me. They took me to see the lower part of the house; it was ill-arranged, untidy, and uncomfortable. They returned with me to my room. I made a few sketches, which amused them greatly. Soon such crowds of women came in that one of the men-servants of the house, who stood as guard or sentinel at my door, entered, and very ​unceremoniously drove about half of them out of the place, and they all withdrew when the gentlemen returned from their ride.
We spent the evening at the house of Habîb. A large party assembled to meet us in his spacious guest-chamber, and all the culinary skill of Shefa 'Amer had been employed in preparing a supper for us. Songs, complimentary speeches, and story-telling followed. I walked back to Stephani's house by the light of many lanterns, accompanied to my door by my brother and nearly all the guests.
At sunrise the next morning we were mounted and ready to start for Hâifa. Stephani, Habîb, and a large party joined us. Our Egyptian groom had charge of a beautiful Syrian gazelle-hound which had been given to my brother. We rode down into the valley and along a level road leading to a large fountain. A number of the village girls were already assembled there—some standing on the high stone platform surrounding the well, and others grouped round the base. In the distance we saw a procession of them, traversing, one by one, a narrow foot-path on the hill-side, with their replenished jars perfectly poised on their heads.
We turned out of the Akka road, and entered an extensive olive-grove. Picturesque groups of men, women, and children, in bright-colored garments, were busy among the trees, or hastening along the road. I had always seen the olive plantations so silent and deserted that it was quite a surprise to me. Saleh explained that it was the beginning of the olive harvest—the 19th of October—and all of these people had been hired to gather the fruit. The men beat the trees with long sticks, and the women and children pick up the berries. We met a straggling group of figures, which looked so unnaturally tall and disproportionate that I could not make them out till I was ​told that they were Druze women. They wore tubular horns, from one to two feet in length, bound firmly on their foreheads, supporting heavy black or white pails, which almost shrouded the wearers, producing a very ungraceful outline. (Of these strange people I hope to speak more fully on a future occasion.) Presently we came to a rocky district, overgrown with dwarf oaks, thorns, and thistles, and then reached the fertile plain of Akka, traversed by the blue winding Kishon and its many tributaries.
The large fields of cotton had a very pretty effect, for they were in their full beauty. The bushes are about two feet high, the stems are reddish, the leaves are of the color of the maple in the Spring-time, the blossom looks as if it were made of butterflies' wings, white and spotted. When these white wings fall, a green bulb, in a triangular cup, is exposed; this grows to about an inch in diameter, and changes to a rich, glossy, chestnut color, and, gradually becoming harsh, splits into three parts, when soft downy cotton bursts from it. Saleh gathered a branch for me, including specimens of the plant in these three distinct stages. My brother told me that the Arabs do not cultivate the long-staple cotton—which is most valued in England—because it requires so much care in picking; for the pods must be gathered as soon as they ripen, and as they do not ripen all at once, the harvest necessarily extends over two or three weeks; whereas the short-staple cotton gives the cultivator very little trouble, for the pods are not injured by being left on the tree after they are ripe, and the harvest does not commence till nearly every pod is ready for picking; the consequence is that it is very soon over. This inferior cotton does very well for native use, and to fill the Arab mattresses, and lehaffs, or quilts; but it is not of much commercial value.
If the plain of Akka were cultivated with skill and energy it would yield abundantly. Under the present system the soil produces, in Winter, wheat, barley, beans, lentils, peas, and tobacco; and in the Summer-time cotton, ​sesame, millet, and many kinds of cucumbers. Poppy, mallows, and various herbs enliven it, while all the hills around are suitable for vineyards,olive-groves, and orchards. Flax, asparagus, gentian, scammony, and many other plants, valuable in medicine, grow wild there, and the marshes of the plain abound with kali, the ashes of which, mixed with olive or sesame oil, are converted into soap. The villages of this district are inhabited by Moslems, Christians, and Druzes, and a few Jews. They pay heavy taxes to the Government in wheat, barley, and money, and are bound to furnish camels, horses, or mules whenever the Pasha requires them.
We crossed a spring, round which tall reeds and short, soft grass grew. Thousands of edible snails were clinging to the stems of some straggling bushes. Wily, long-rooted marram-grass and sea-holly—eryngium maritimum—tamarisks, and willows bound the sandy soil, and kept it from drifting. We passed over some sand-hills, on which were a few scattered plants, with thick, downy, whitish leaves and yellow blossoms. Here we took leave of our Shefa ’Amer friends, and they returned to their olive-groves.
We were soon on the sea-shore. Two English merchant steamers were just entering the port of Hâifa. We cantered to the Kishon and crossed over it, by carefully keeping on the bar of sand which encircles the mouth of the river, sweeping out far into the sea. The water was above our horses' knees, and now and then an advancing wave covered us with spray.
We rode quickly along by the edge of the water, with the palm-grove and the fruit-gardens on our left hand, and the rippling waves on our right. We entered the town at a quarter to nine, just in time to receive two English merchant captains, at the Vice-Consulate, where poor Katrîne, our soi disant mother, welcomed us with tears of joy, saying, "Praised be God! my children have returned to me in safety."
* ↑ See Ezekiel iv, 15: "Lo! I have given thee cow's dung,and thou shalt prepare thy bread therewith."
* ↑ Does this system of the Sahiri throw any light on the history of the "Zahuris" of Spain, who were said to have the power of seeing into the recesses of the earth? The name is evidently of Eastern derivation, for "Zahur" is the Arabic for appearing. In the first volume of "The Cradle of the Twin Giants, Science and History," by Rev. Henry Christmas, page 314, the following passages occur: "Debrio, in his 'Disquisitiones Magicæ,' edition of Mayence, 1606, says there is a class of men in Spain who are called Zahuris. When he was staying at Madrid, in 1575, a boy of that kind was there; these persons were said to be able to spy out what was concealed in the earth, subterraneous waters, metals, hidden treasure, or dead bodies. The thing was generally known, and its possibility believed in, not only by poets but by philosophers." "We quote the following, concerning a lady, from the Mercure de France, of 1728: "She perceives what is hid in the earth, distinguishing stones, sand, springs, to the depth of thirty or forty fathoms.'"
* ↑ They have been engraved in the "Builder"—No. 878—from drawings which I made in the year 1858.
* ↑ Erinna died in 1859, much regretted by the peasants of the plain, and by the poor of Nazareth.
* ↑ "When thou beatest thine olive-tree thou shalt not go over the boughs again; it shall be for the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow." Deut. xxiv, 20.