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CHAPTER XXVIII.

IN THE SADDLE AND IN THE TENT.

AILROADS would ruin the Holy Land.

It

seems almost a pity that there should be a carriage-road from Jaffa to Jerusalem. This one region ought to be preserved as it was two thousand years ago. The scream of the locomotive would sound almost like profanation in the midst of these hills. The telegraph is bad enough.

It is actually delightful-this traversing the country on horseback and camping out. Our baggage is carried on pack-mules. There are three of us, and it' takes seven men and ten horses and mules to get us along. The men are the dragoman, a waiter, a cook, three mule-drivers, and Achmed, who goes along with us on a pony, loaded with our lunch, and such articles as overcoats and umbrellas-in short, all such things as we are liable to need in the course of the day. He carries all this, and rides himself on the smallest horse of the lot, but the horse is a marvel of endurance.

The principal tent is a very large one, and whenever it is pitched the American flag floats above it. It is the sitting, dining, sleeping-room. The smaller tent is the kitchen, and I suppose the dragoman and some others sleep in it, but the muleteers sleep under the sky.

We are generally on the road early. At about noon we stop under an olive tree, or under "the shadow of a great rock," or in a wayside khan, when Achmed unloads his pony, spreads down a carpet, takes out three tin plates, with knives and silver forks, and produces our luncheon. This consists, usually, of cold roast mutton, cold boiled chicken, good light bread, cold boiled eggs, with the requisite condiments, besides figs or raisins, nuts and

oranges.

The time of getting into camp varies with the length of the day's journey. The baggage train always precedes us, and on arrival we find our tent pitched, with our personal baggage in it, three pewter wash-bowls, half full of water, standing outside, with snowy towels hanging near, and three ironframed cots, having the mattresses already laid, with pillow, blanket, and clean sheets-positively beckoning us, as it were, to a siesta. At six o'clock, dinner comes-soup, the most delicious, roast mutton, chicken, variously prepared, vegetables, well cooked, pudding, fruits and nuts, all served on elegant china, with change of plates with each variety. What think you of that for a pilgrim?

Our employes are all good-natured and accommodating. In the evening we have a busy scene of cooking, currying horses and mules, feeding them, and other camp duties. After running loose and grazing for a time the mules and horses are fastened. This is done in a peculiar way. A rope is drawn along on the surface of the ground, stretched tight, and fastened down at several points by pegs. To this the animals are tied by halters. They eat their

grain in sacks. On each side of the sack's mouth a piece of rope is fastened, and then tied to the headstall of the halter. These are so short that they keep the nose in the sack, so that there is no waste of grain.

Our companionship in the tent is most delightful, We talk over scenes connected with each place we visit, and find great pleasure in following up the migrations of the Patriarchs, the adventures of heroes, and, above all, the footsteps of the Lord, who, among these hills, "went about doing good."

Monday morning we started out. Going out at the Jaffa Gate, we made half the circuit of the city, descended into the valley of Jehoshaphat, crossed the Kedron, went over the southern shoulder of the Mount of Olives, passed along by the village of Bethany, and so made our way down to Jerich. For many miles the path-for it can scarcely be called a road—leads down a canyon, as it would be called in the Rocky Mountains, with bold, limestone ridges on both sides. Down this canyon David passed when he fled from his unnatural son, and along the declivity of the ridges ran Shimei, cursing and throwing stones. The narrative has a most natural and life-like import when one sees the place. Along this same way our Lord went up on his last journey to Jerusalem to be "offered up," after healing the two blind men at Jericho, and bringing salvation into the house of Zaccheus.

Having made about half our day's ride, we crossed a low ridge, where there are the ruins of some old buildings. This is the traditional site of the Inn of the Good Samaritan. Here, under the shadow of a

great rock, we rested, and took our lunch. We were soon in the saddle again, and in a short time found ourselves descending another canyon, toward the valley of the Jordan, or rather riding along the mountain-side with the bottom of the gorge far below. As we approached the valley, looking down into the deep chasm we saw a little water, the first we had seen running in any stream since we left the banks of the Nile. This is believed to be the brook Cherith, from which Elijah drank until it failed him in the drought.

On leaving Jerusalem, for several miles you pass in sight of cultivated fields here and there, but as you approach the valley of the Jordan, the hills, which are steep and rugged all the way, assume more and more the character of a desert. The natural vegetation, scanty all the way, becomes still more so, and cultivation ceases altogether. Along these lower ridges of the mountains a single stratum of dark rock, that seems to be of volcanic origin, crops out through the lime-stone in the most fantastic convolutions. Farther down it appears in greater masses, always in such angles and positions as suggest the presence of violent forces in its upheaval and placement. The geologist must account for this most singular phenomenon-and that other more amazing one, the depression of the valley of the Jordon and of the Dead Sea. From the Lake of Galilee down the valley is below the level of the ocean, and the surface of the Dead Sea is more than 1,300 feet below.

"A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho." I shall never need a Commentary again

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on this passage. With the exception of the low ridge of the traditional inn where we lunched, we were going down, down, down, all the way, till we reached the plain of Jericho. Jerusalem is near 3,000 feet above the sea-level, and the Jordan, at its mouth, 1,300 below. I follow Baldeker. The plain, where the road enters it, some two miles from Jericho, is, perhaps, 300 feet above the Jordan, so that in about sixteen miles you make a descent of near 4,000 feet.

Soon after entering the plain we came upon a flush stream of water, bordered on all sides with verdure. Following it a few hundred yards we came to the point where it bursts from the earth at the base of a low hill. It is called the Fountain of Elisha, the popular tradition identifying it as the spring that the prophet healed. There is quite a breadth of cultivation here, the fields being irrigated from this stream. The cultivation is slovenly in the extreme, and yet the yield of wheat is generous. The water supply is sufficient, if it were properly husbanded and distributed, for the irrigation of a wide area, and in that case it would furnish food for many thousands. When Lot looked down upon it from the western hills it was like the garden of the Lord, and when Joshua invaded it, it was so fruitful as to support two considerable cities-Jericho and Gilgal-the former of which, at least, was a walled city. At present there is only a miserable village here, inhabited by a few families noted for indolence and indigence. We camped near the village, which is about four miles from the Jordan, and ten from the Dead Sea.