The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-12-04
IN THE PROMISED LAND
DIsILI.USIONMENT or A JOURNAL
IsTEC PILGRIM IN PALESTINE.
The Dusty Way TO Jerusalem and the
General Bnrrenness of tire Country
Surprise and Sadden Him.
in London Mail.

ally expect sand and where there are so
many Crusading ruins on the way you are
not surprised TO find the barren monotony
OF the sand diversified by heaps of stones.
For of that noble emotionalism which Peter
the Hermit excited, heaps of broken stones
lying in the sand are all that remain as
memorials of the pitiful tragedy Of their
chivalrous enterprise.
There at Athlet and Caesarea they came,
the best fighting blood of western Europe,
strong in their might, full of the faith that
moves mountains charged with zeal for the
only cause in history that was without its
side of sordid self-interest. They We're as
disinterested as the Salvatiomsts, and as
emotional, and they conquered. They built
for themselves, with marvellous skill and
knowledge the great gaunt fortresses that
should stand forever against the hand of
time and the assaults of the unbelievers.
And they went forth to victorious battle and
resisted seiges, they planted the fields on the
hilIsides. and held great feasts in their stone
banqueting halls until the Holy Land be-
came to them with custom just like any
other land; then their emotions grew stale
and their conquering enthusiasm dwindled,
and they fought and lost
The Saracen planted his flag over their
mpregnable strOngholds and contemptu-
ously pulled them stone from stone The
barren sand reasserted it's dominion, and
swept over everything, and though it is not
so many hundreds of years ago, a heap of
stones that might mark nameless grave is
all that remains of the very ruins of many
a building that was meant 10 be eternal.
Go along the dreary coast; there, where
the Crusaders fixed their StrOnghOldS, you
do not look for the beauty of a fertile land.
But when you leave the white pile mound
of the Jaffa houses behind and strike inland
towards Jerusalem you do begin to look out
with thrilled expectation for the milk and
honey, the kline placidly grazing in the
smooth pastures the bees fitting among the
flowers and all the other signs of the album
dant richness of the Land of Promise. You
look from the windows of the narrow-gauge.
crawling, rafting Jerusalem railway train
and you see land flowing with sand and
rocks.
GASES IN THE DESERT.
Near to Jaffa you see here and there
grey-green patch. which means olive trees,
or a brighter green patch. which means an
orange grove. But these you find are signs
not of the natural richness Of the country,
but of the supernatural piety and industry
of the German and other Christian colonists.
And the olive groves you notice only seem
beautiful by contrast with the surrounding
wilderness. Compared with ones recollec-
ton of an English orchard they are desola-
ton itself, for the branches are InIl anu
weedy-looking, and through the foliage the
stony ground shows its dismal grey Inc
railway goes rafting on till the outskirts OF
Jaffa and the regions of the piouS Germans
are left behind and then there is nothing
but the blazing blue sky overhead and the
grey wilderness all around, till brown bare
mountains shut in the dreary landscape.
Not sign of life for miles, not house
nor a pillow nor a patch of cultivated
ground; nothing but sand and stones ana
lime dust Here and there comes little
agricultural patch, which better even than
the desert proclaims the poverty and naked
ness of the land, for the Syrian peasants
who cultivate it show by their rags and
their WretchedneSS how poor IS the reward
of their patient toll. Then the desolate
plain is left behind, and the railway begins
to climb among the still more desolate
mountains of Judea
The orthodox endeavors to comfort his be-
lief by attributing all this appalling harren-
ness to the Turk.
These valleys" he says. "once stood so
thick with corn that they laughed and sang.
The hills that now great bare rocks
we're once densely wooded But the par
alyzing Turk laid his hand on the land, lad
impossible burdens industry. put 1mpos-
sible taxes on olive trees, and see the result.
The land went out of cultivation, the torests
were destroyed, the olive trees were cut
down for firewood, with the natural ana
inevitable result that the rainfall dWlndled
and dwindled till it almost disappeared, SO
that the fruitful soil became sterile or was
going on thus for centuries: 1t is the par
alyzng hand of the Moslem.
That may be wholly or partly true put II
1t is quite impossible, unless you want very
badly to believe otherwise, to reject the, UNI
compromising story of these bare rocks, or
to think that anything ever grew here from
the beginning of geological time. NOR mas
the landscape any of impresslveness, Inc Inc
grandeur of mighty masses or infinite dis
tances. Except for the beauty of the clear
light and the blue sky there is nothing but
dreary, depressing monotony Oh usHhesS'
THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.
oh re nv
among powders, climbing all the time, you
turn a corner and come by the side OF an
other narrow, stony valley, which only diff
fers from hundreds of others in the respect
that dotted about it are little detached
houses of European fashion standing amidst
patches of cultivation. You have come to
another German colony, the one on the out
skirts of Jerusalem. There is a road which
has been made by the simple plan OF clear
ing a narrow track Of some or the loose
stones and piling them in a ridge on either
side. There are even helds-llttle neldS
which are marked by high walls OF piled
stones, removed from the surface BUT the
very large stones, granite rocks too heaVy
for removal. remain, standing amid the
clearings like Caledonian rubbing Stones.
And the small stones remain, too, Tor the
simple reason that they, and the powdered
dust among which they lie, are the fruitful
soil-all that there is of it.
Then another sweep round grey hllislue,
and a brown mass on the top OF brown
hill dominated by a heavy-looking tower
comes into view, and you feel your blood
throbbing, you do not quite know why. That
is your first view of Jerusalem. The other
bare hill with the white building on the top
is the Mount of Olives.
You cannot help being disappointed. The
distant view reveals no shining points OF
gold no clothing Verdure no graceful or
luxuriant palms. The impression of peace
and rest of balm for troubled feelings, OF
holy calm which you have in some absurd
way been expecting to come with the nrst
glimpse of the Holy City are strangely alb
sent At a distance Jerusalem looks simply
commonplace 1t will be better perhaps at
close view.
The train rumbles on into a dirty. mean
little station. where a fat Turkish station
master in uniform, and a crowd of shout
inc wriggling Arab porters in rags ana art
occupy the platform. You descend and
climb into rickety, broken carriage, whose
pitiful decrepitude you feel almost ashamed
to impose upon. and look around for the Je-
rusalem of your dreams You find yourself
in 4 desola.ion of limestone dust The city
stands on a hill opposite to that upon which
the railway ends, and the road from the sta
ton winds Down steep road into the val
ley between, and then drags up the opposite
slope The only impression you have is
dust There is nothing to be seen or felt or
perceived but dust. Clouds of dust arise
from beneath the rickety. rumbling car
rage The thin. stunted trees holding on
to the lodges of rock by the roadside are
white with dust. The ragged, frowsy beg
CARS who line the road sit in dust and are
covered with dust And through the dust
IiTs,Izy IN "a right a hare rocky