OUR first night's rest in Palestine was not destined to be an unbroken one, as we were aroused by the frequent blasts from a steamer's whistle in the bay, and on enquiring next morning, learnt that we had been the unwitting cause of the uproar. The different Arab boatmen, in their rivalry to reach our ship first, had not waited for pratique to be given, and the first man to board the steamer having been my Arab friend of the day before, the Kaimakan, or district governor, had promptly seized him and locked him up, whereupon all the other boatmen struck work, and declined to go off to any steamer until their comrade was released, hence the constant hooting from the steamer, whose captain could not understand why no boats were in attendance to take his passengers off. We heard afterwards that in reality our Arab friend had been locked up by the Kaimakan because the American government had just presented him with a splendid watch for one of his recent exploits, and he hoped to keep him under lock and key until he himself became possessor of the watch, but the prompt action of the other boatmen in striking, forced his hand, as he found himself compelled by their action either to let his prisoner go, or retain him and paralyse the trade of the port. This little episode is interesting, as giving one an insight into Turkish morals and Turkish administration.
After the usual delays, and consequent excitement and vociferation, we started next day upon our journey to Jerusalem, distant from Jaffa some thirty-seven miles. Passing through orange groves we 'ere long debouched upon the Plain of Sharon, across which in the distance, rose the blue mountains which surround Jerusalem. We are bound to say that we felt far more interest in them than in the traditionary tomb of Dorcas, which the dragoman had just pointed out. In them deceit and priestly knavery was impossible; they, at least, countenanced no imposture, and made no demands of backsheesh.
And what was the impression that Sharon left upon our minds? "Sharon is like a wilderness," says Isaiah, prophetically (33:9), and though, when we saw it, it was hardly that, yet it no doubt was very far removed from its luxuriant fertility in Israel's palmy days. In general the crops, which consisted of wheat and barley and lentils, seemed fairly good, when one took into consideration the exceedingly primitive mode of cultivation. The plough, if we may by courtesy so term it, practically consisted of two bent sticks, shod with an iron point, which scratched the earth to a depth of three inches. It was drawn by a couple of most diminutive oxen, not much larger than donkeys, and was steadied and guided by the driver with his right hand, while in his left he grasped his iron-pointed goad. As this system of tillage has been pursued from time immemorial, and manure is never used, and the four-course system unknown, it is little to be wondered at if the crops are thin; in fact, where out of Palestine would those be crops at all?
Did we see the "Rose of Sharon"? Possibly, but we did not identify it, if we did; some find it in the blue lily, some in the narcissus, some in the anemone, and more in the mallow. Certain it is that we saw many flowers; indeed in places the red anemones grew so thickly as to resemble, in the distance, great patches of blood; but the rose is, we believe, unknown in the Plain of Sharon, and we were quite content with the wealth of flowers that we saw, and left to wise and more argumentative heads than our own the settlement of the vexed question, as to which of the many flowers of the Plain could properly claim the name of "Rose of Sharon" as its own.
After a ride of three hours and a half, we arrived at Ramleh, a modern village, which, like most Palestine villages, is picturesque in the distance, but disappointing on closer acquaintance. For some time the tower of Ramleh had formed a conspicuous feature in the landscape, and thither we directed our steps. Who built this tower is, like almost everything else in Palestine, involved in doubt, but there can be no two opinions as to the view one obtains from its summit. Beneath one's feet lies the Plain of Sharon, spread out like a map. Yonder, some three miles to the north-east, is Lud, the ancient Lydda, the scene of Eneas' cure; that streak of darker blue in the blue mountains beyond, is the valley of Ajalon, over which the moon stood still in Joshua's days, while the followers of the five kings rushed headlong down from Beth-horon through the defile, and " the Lord cast down great stones from heaven upon them unto Azekah, and they died;" from the foot of Carmel in the north, to the confines of Philistine in the south—such is the view that meets our gaze.
And here one may notice a fact which will be more and more impressed upon one as we proceed, namely, the extreme smallness of the country. No doubt the wonderful clearness of the air greatly contributes to the sense of this; but it is a fact that from certain points one can, Moses-like, take in at a glance almost the whole land.
Thus, from a spot a little beyond Mar-Saba, we saw Hermon distinctly to the north, distant, as the crow flies, one hundred miles; while our view to the south was bounded by the mountains at the southern end of the Dead Sea, distant fifty miles in a straight line— i.e., in one sweep of the eye one took in the land of Israel, from its extreme northern to its extreme southern confines.
Descending from the tower we find our lunch awaiting us. Drawn up in the distance, watching us at our repast, was a line of natives, in whom we subsequently made our first acquaintance with leprosy. The poor creatures had come out of the neighboring village in the hope of obtaining alms, and they might well excite commiseration in the hardest hearts. Some had faces which more resembled bunches of fleshy grapes than human countenances; others thrust out for us to view the stumps of arms or legs, and all uttered the “leper-cry," with which we were soon to grow familiar.
The disease seems generally to attack the throat first, hence the peculiar shrill falsetto cry in which, no doubt of old, they had to utter the words—"Unclean, unclean." At present they content themselves with crying, “Howadji backsheesh" (Alms, O pilgrim), in piteous tones. In reply, we get out the camera, which they seem thoroughly to understand, and we leave them eagerly discussing the proportion of the douceur we gave them in return for the sitting.
As we left Ramleh we came across a man who had fallen among thieves; they had literally stripped him and wounded him, and left him half dead; for they had left him but his shirt, and he was covered with blood from a blow from a club on the head, and one of his arms hung powerless by his side. This was the man that had been dispatched from Jaffa with the food for our camp, which, together with the donkey carrying it, had been stolen. Fortunately for us, Mr. Cook, of tourist fame, had driven up to Jerusalem that day, and coming across the wounded man by the wayside had heard his tale, and sent supplies back from Jerusalem for our camp.
The Plain of Sharon possesses few distinctive features; the villages we saw were small, and devoid of scriptural interest. Presently we crossed the railroad, which was then being constructed from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and which has since been opened, and, continuing our course, gradually neared the barrier of the blue hills of Judea which hem in the plain, until the camp tame into view, and with a shout of "To your tents, O Israel," shook up our steeds and galloped in.
Our tents were pitched close by a stream at the foot of a bluff; on which stands the village of Latrun (the Robber), so called because it is the traditional birth-place of Dimas, the penitent thief. The sequel of events that night proved that there was, at the time of our visit, at any rate, one impenitent thief in the neighborhood, as, in the midst of a sudden storm of wind and rain which fell upon our tents, the picket rope was cut, and the horse which I had taken so much trouble to select for the long ride before us was stolen, and I had, in consequence, to borrow one of the baggage horses on which to pursue our journey next day. J. F.