The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1882-05-05
PALESTINE.
FROM BEYROUT TO BAALBEC.

\ I
A LECTURE DELIVERED BY REV. i. b.
PLATT, AT THE CONGREGATIONAL
CHURCH, APRIL 20, 1882. ="
do not know of any better pre-
scription for that person who is labor
ing under the delusion that he is
about perfect, than to subject himself
to all the petty annoyances of tyran-
! ny and trickery which are the neces-
sary accompaniment of travel in the
East. And probably worst of all, as
crowding into the smallest compass
and time the greatest amount of and
exasperating meanness, is voyage in
a Mediterranean Steamer. .',
In the first place you pay for your
ticket from twice to four times as
much as you would pay in this coun-
try for as greatly superior accommo-
dations. For a trip of three days,
for instance, from Naples to Athens
the fare is $4,000. If you don't
happen to know how much it is, be-
ing foreigner, they are likely to
charge you as much more as they
think you will probably pay. The
clerk makes out your ticket and when
he hands back your change it is from
so cents to dollar short. You gent
ly intimate that you would like the
balance of it if convenient, and he
quietly puts the money in his pocket
and tells you with utmost self-com-
posure that it is alright and not having
sufficient knowledge of the language
to raise row about it with any
chance of success, you have to tell
him what you think of him in a few
vigorous English phrases, hoping for
the sake of peace that he wont under
stand it, and then walk off without
your money.
You take your ticket and look
around for the steamer. And now,
like the man that gets married, your
trouble begins. You will always find
her--not at the wharf, where passen-
gers might easily get aboard-but
lying out about quarter or half
mile from shore with no way to reach
it except by procuring a boat at your
own expense. And now you can
have your choice, either you can
stand and dicker and quarrel with the
boatmen about the price before you
start, or you can jump into his boat,
tell him where you want to go, and
have your fight with him after you
get there. But at one end or the
other of the transaction, you must
have it. It's part of the program,
no matter how much you offer him.
And usually the more generous you
are, the more direful is the combat
with him.
But now having arrived at the ship,
where you might naturally hatter
yourself that all your troubles we're
ended, you find on the contrary that
what you have already gone through
is only a peaceful and pleasant pre-
lude to that which follows. In the
first place a lean-looking, latter
demalion reaches after your satchel,
carries it half the length of the boat
and passes it to another. He carries
it to the foot of the ladder and hands
it to another. He carries it up three
or four stairs and gives it to fourth
and he to fifth and so on until the
top and there the steward takes it and
passes it to the waiter and the waiter
to the cabin boy and then this whole
procession of animated scarecrows
stand in line and hold out their hands
and expect you to fee them. And if
there is any other way out of it than
simply to do it, confess that l was
never able to discover it, l never
had moral courage enough to refuse
but one man and he was at the top
of the ladder and when l got to him
i was bankrupt.
But now having weighed anchor
and put out to sea and accomplished
half your voyage comes the crowning
imposition of all. The steward ap-
proaches you and inquiries if you
would like anv dinner. There YOU