Evening star., 1899-04-15
Little Else to Be Seen on the Road
to Jerusalem.
NO SIGN OF LIFE FOR MILES
A Journey That is in Many Ways
disappointment.
SCENERY IS COMMONPLACE
From the london Mall.

and jana where the road follows the coast
line, you naturally expect sand: and where
there are so many crusading ruins on the
way you are not surprised 10 find the bar
rem monotony of the sand diversified by
heaps OF stones. For OF that noble emo
uonalisn which Peter the Hermit excited,
heaps of broken stones lying in the sand
are all that remain memorials OF the
pitiful tragedy of their Chivalrous enter
prises. The Saracen planted his flag over
their impregnable strongholds and con-
temptuously pulled them stone from stone.
The barren sand reasserted its dominion
and swept over everything, and though IL
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 sirongholds, YOU
90 not look for the beauty of a fertile land.
But when you leave the white pile mound
or the Jaffa houses behind and strike inland
toward Jerusalem you do begin to look out
with thrilled expectation for the milk and
the honey, the kline placidly grazing in the
smooth pastures, the bees fitting among
the flowers and all the other signs of the
abundant richness of the Land of Promise.
You look from the windows of the narrow
gauge, crawling. rafting Jerusalem rail-
way train. and you see land flowing with
sand and rocks.
Near to Jaffa You see here and there a
gray-green patch, which means olive trees.
or brighter green patch, which means an
orange grove. But these you find signs
rot of the natural richness OF the country.
but of the supernatural piety and indus-
try 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 recollection of English orchard
they are desolation itself, for the branches
"A III inc and t,rN1t 1t.sl,
the foliage the stony ground shows its dis
NAL gray. The railway goes rafting on I'LL
tie outskirts of Jaffa and the regions of
the pious Germans left behind. and
then there is nothing but the hlazing blue
sky overhead and the gray wilderness all
around. TIL brown. bare mountains shut In
the dreary landscape.
Sand and stones.
Not sign of life for miles, not a house
nor a plow nor a patch of cultivated
ground nothing but sand and stones and
lime dust. Here and there comes a little
agricultural patch, which better even than
the desert proclaims the poverty and ma
kedness 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
belief by attributing all this appalling bar
renness to the Turk.
These Valleys" he says, ''once stood so
thick with corn that they laughed and
sang. The hills that are now great bare
rocks were once densely wooded. But the
paralyzing Turk laid his hand on the land.
laid impossible burdens on industry, put
impossible taxes on olive trees, and see the
| result. The land went ont of cultivation.
the forests were destroyed, the olive trees
We're Gu: down for firewood with the natu-
raj and inevitable result that the rainfall
dwindied and dwindled till IL almost dis
appeared, so that the fruitful soil became
sterile, buried under crumhiing
rocks. 1t has been going on thus for CEN
turies. It is the paralyZing hand of the
Moslem."
That may he wholly or partly true but
II requires a very strong faith to believe
it 1t is quite impossible. unless yoI want
very badly to believe otherwise. 20 reject
the uncompromsing story of those bare
rocks, or to think that anything ever grew
here from the beginning Of geological time.
Nor has the landscape any of impressive
ness the grandeur of mighty ma ssrs or in
finite distances Except for the beauty Of
the clear light and the blue sky. :here is
nothing but a dreary, depressing mCnotony
of ugliness.
On the Outskirts.
At last. as the train goes picking its way
among powders. climbing all the time you
turn a corner and come by the side of an
other narrow. stony valley, which only off
that dotted about it are little detached
houses of European fashion standing amid
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 Of The loose
stones and piling them in a ridge on either
side. There are even neldS-nttle ueldS-
which are marked by high walls OF piled
stones, removed from the surface. But tie
very large stones, granite rocks 200 heavy
for removal, remain standing amid the
clearings like Caledonian rubbing stones.
And the small stones remain, too. for the
simple reason that they and the powdered
dust among which they lie are the fruitful
-Soil-all that there is OF 1t.
Then another sweep around a gray HILL
side. and a brown mass on the top Of a
br own hill. dominated by 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 build
ing 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, lux
uriant palms. The impression Of peace and
rest, of balm for troubled feelings. Of holy
calm of which you have in some absurd
way been expecting to come with the first
glimpse of the holy city, are strangely alb
sent. At a distance Jerusalem looks simply
commonplace. 1t will be better, perhaps,
at close view.
Little hut Dust.
The train rumbles on into a dirty mean
little station, where fat Turkish station
master in uniform and a crowd of shouting,
wrangling Arab porters in rags and dirt
occupy the platform. You descend and
climb into a rckety. broken carriage, whose
pitiful decrepitude You feel almost ashamed
to impose upon, and look around for the
Jerusalem of your dreams. You find your
self I'm a desolation of limestone dust. The
city stands on a Hill opposite to that upon
which the railway ends, and the road from
the station winds down a steep road into
the valley 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 rum
bling carriage The thin, stunted trees hold
ing on to the hedges of rock by the road
side, are white with dust. The ragged
frowsy beggars who line the road sit in
dust and are covered with dust And
through the dust you dinly on the
right bare. rocky hill. with at the top, a
high battlemented waal, terminating at
point of the mountain a heavy. somber
stone fortress-the Tower of David AT the