THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.
The floor of the vast Church of the Holy Sepulchre is below the level of
Christian Street. We descended to the church through a narrow alley
about a hundred feet in length, which by slopes and steps led downward.
On each side of this alley peddlers had stands for the sale of beads,
rosaries, crucifixes, candles, and souvenirs, which they earnestly
besought the visitors to buy. The church is so surrounded by other
buildings that it could not be seen until we arrived at the foot of the
alley, where a few steps to the left led down to a wide stone paved
court. Even then only the rough stone facade and the top of the dome
were visible. The door was guarded by Turkish soldiers, but they did not
object to our entrance.
Within the Church, in the centre of the vestibule, we paused beside a
marble slab six feet in length, elevated slightly above the stone floor.
A canopy overspread the marble and at the sides of the canopy stood six
immense ornamented silver candlesticks rising higher than our heads. In
these were tall candles.
"This is the Stone of Unction," said the guide. "On this marble the body
of Jesus lay while it was anointed for burial. Two of these candlesticks
belong to the Greek Church, two to the Armenian Church, and two to the
Latin Church. In this holy edifice each religious sect claims the
privilege of taking part in the worship and in the care of the sacred
places."
Not far from the vestibule the guide halted, and pointing to a circle on
the stone floor, said: "This circle marks the place where the Mother of
Jesus stood at the time of the anointing."
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, we ascertained, is composed of many
parts. A rotunda, sixty-six feet in diameter, occupies the center. Above
this rises the dome, supported by eighteen large piers. On one side of
this round room, an opening leads into a Greek church; on the other
side, entrances between the piers lead into small chapels. Grouped
around outside of these, but connected with the central rotunda, church,
and small chapels, are other chapels, rooms, and sacred places, the
whole covering a space of over two acres. In the centre of the rotunda,
directly underneath the dome, stands a small marble building twenty-six
feet long by eighteen feet broad, richly decorated with carvings,
inscriptions, and figures of angels. At one end of this building there
is a small door guarded by huge bronze candlesticks ten feet in height
and over-hung with gold and silver lamps of curious oriental design.
Three golden crosses surmount the front of this miniature building: one
of Greek form furnished by the Greek Church; one of Roman form, by the
Latins; and one of the Syrian shape, by the Armenians.
"This small building," said the guide, "encloses the place of the
Sepulchre. The interior is divided into two parts. The first you will
enter is the Chapel of the Angel. The Tomb of the Savior is in the
second part."
[Illustration: I. ENTRANCE TO THE CHURCH OF THE SEPULCHRE.]
[Illustration: II. THE VIA DOLOROSA.]
Passing between the lines of huge candlesticks and underneath the
clusters of overhanging lamps, we entered the small doorway and were in
the Chapel of the Angel. In the centre of this small room stands the
stone upon which, the guide said, the angel sat after rolling it away
from the entrance to the Savior's tomb. Stooping low we passed singly
through the narrow opening to the tomb. This is a small chamber about
six feet square, the floor and walls of which are covered with white
marble. At the right hand side of the tomb a marble slab about two feet
wide extends the length of the chamber. This marble is much worn by the
millions of kisses that have been tearfully and reverently pressed upon
it by the pilgrims of many centuries. Two score of golden lamps,
continually burning overhead, shed a soft but brilliant light upon the
tomb. Our visit to the interior of the tomb was short; for not more than
five persons may stand in it at one time, and other pilgrims from
other lands were waiting their turn to enter.
[Illustration: A CRUST IN HER HAND, A GRIN ON HER FACE.]
[Illustration: WE WALKED THROUGH THE NARROW VIA DOLOROSA.]
For a small fee the local guides provided us with tapers, for some of
the chapels and grottoes within the vast cluster of the buildings of the
church were dark, and in the gloomy recesses the holy places could not
be seen without a light. In the dark grotto of the Syrian chapel our
tapers shed a dim light on two tombs, which the guide said were those of
Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea.
"This is the Chapel of the Apparition," explained the guide, after
leading us to another part of the church. "Here the Lord appeared to
Mary, His mother, after the Resurrection. In a niche beside the high
altar is a hole in the wall. If you hold your taper up to it you may see
within the wall a part of the column to which the Savior was bound
during the Flagellation. You may touch the sacred column with this round
stick, provided for the purpose, if you wish to do so. The stick, being
worn smooth by the numberless kisses that have been pressed upon it by
the pilgrims after touching the holy column, can do it no harm."
In a vestibule outside the chapel a star in the marble floor marks the
place where Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene after the Resurrection,
and a second star a few feet beyond marks the spot where Mary stood when
she recognized the risen Lord.
We passed from the rotunda into the Church of the Crusaders or Greek
Church, through a wide opening directly opposite the door of the Holy
Sepulchre. In this large chapel the walls and ceilings, the seats of
the choir, the high altar, and the seat of the Patriarch in the rear
of the altar, are composed of precious woods beautifully carved and
ornamented with gold and silver and jewels. Hundreds of superb golden
and silver lamps, varying in form and design, hang suspended from the
ceiling at various heights. In the centre of the chapel, standing in the
middle of a fancifully designed circle on the checkered marble floor, is
an urn containing a marble ball.
[Illustration: THE VERY STONES HIS SACRED FEET HAVE PRESSED.]
"This ball marks the centre of the world," explained the guide, as we
halted beside the urn. "About eight centuries ago certain wise and holy
men ascertained, by calculation or by inspiration, that this spot is the
exact centre of the world. It was marked in this manner so that the
pilgrims coming here from all parts of the earth might see it and carry
the knowledge of the wonderful discovery back with them to their various
countries."
Beyond the Greek Chapel we descended, by aid of our burning tapers, a
flight of thirty stone steps to the ancient, dimly-lit Chapel of St.
Helena.
"When the Empress Helena was inspired to search for the true cross,"
said the guide, "she employed workmen to excavate here. There is the
seat on which she sat while superintending the search, and there below
us is the excavation in which she found the three crosses, the crown of
thorns, the nails, and the inscription."
We peered into the darkness below but could see only a gloomy hole about
eight feet deep and twenty feet across, a short flight of steps cut in
the rock, and an altar at one side.
[Illustration: THE OLD STREET OF SORROW LIES BURIED TWENTY FEET BELOW.]
Reascending to the main floor, we halted at the Chapel of the Mocking.
There the guide showed us the stone upon which the Jews made Jesus sit
while they crowned Him with thorns. The guide then led the way up a
flight of steps to the Chapel of Golgotha, which is within the great
structure of the church but upon the summit of a rock fifteen feet
higher than the main floor. At one side of this chapel, where the rock
itself projects slightly above the floor, a figure of the Christ in
dying agony is suspended upon the cross, and at the foot of the cross
stand the figures of Mary, His mother, and St. John, both dejected and
sorrowful. These figures appear to be made of gold and silver. The
crowns on their heads are covered with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and
other precious stones. A hole in the rock surrounded by a gold plate
marks the place where the original cross stood. On the right and left
are the holes where stood the crosses of the thieves. A movable gold
plate covers the crevice in the rock caused by the earthquake. In this
chapel the pictures on the walls are encircled with diamonds and other
precious stones. Adjoining this room is the Chapel of the Crucifixion,
where, as the guide informed us, Christ was nailed to the cross, and
close by is the place where the Virgin Mary stood during the
Crucifixion.
Descending a flight of steps to the main floor, we entered a small
cavern-like chamber.
"This," said the guide, "is the Tomb of Adam, and the little chapel
beyond is the Tomb of Melchizedek."
When one of the ladies, doubting the truth of these traditions,
excitedly began to remonstrate with the guide, a clergyman in the party
said to her: "It is not worth while to enter into a dispute with the
guide. You cannot convince him that his assertions are incorrect. Let us
leave the topic for discussion in the evening when we cannot go out
sight-seeing."
We departed from the Church of the Sepulchre with the intention of
returning without a guide to inspect portions of the building more
leisurely. Preceded by the guide, we walked through the narrow Via
Dolorosa, pausing a moment at each of the fourteen stations, which mark
the location of the historical and traditional events that occurred in
the street of sorrow. After the guide had explained the route, one of
the tourists devoutly said: "Little did I think a year ago that I should
walk along the very path that has been stained by the blood drops of the
Savior on His way to the Cross, and tread perhaps on the very stones
that His sacred feet have pressed."
[Illustration: AT THE ENTRANCE TO SOLOMON'S QUARRIES.]
A few minutes later we were admitted to a convent on the Via Dolorosa.
One of the gray-gowned nuns, after exhibiting and offering for sale
laces and embroideries made by the sisters, led us to an excavation in
the rear of the convent. There a courteous Abbess met us, and said: "The
excavation made here uncovered a part of the original Via Dolorosa. The
old way lies buried twenty feet below the level of the modern street
known by that name, and at this place is one hundred feet to the right
of the one on which you were walking."
"You must bear in mind the history of Jerusalem," continued the Abbess
in reply to our questions. "Forty years after the Crucifixion Titus
captured the city, demolished the buildings, and slaughtered the
inhabitants. Jerusalem became 'heaps' and a 'desolation' as predicted by
the holy prophets. For a century thereafter a village of huts built upon
the ruins occupied the site of the city; then the idolatrous Emperor
Hadrian rebuilt the city, laying out the streets to suit his pagan
ideas, and for two centuries it was a pagan city whose people were
devoted to the worship of strange gods and regarded not the sacred
places. Three hundred years after the Ascension of our Savior, the
blessed St. Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, made a pilgrimage
from Constantinople to Jerusalem. Inspired with holy zeal, she gave
orders for the erection of churches on the sites of the Nativity at
Bethlehem and the Ascension at Olivet. She prayerfully sought for the
sacred tomb in which the Lord had been laid, and her efforts were
rewarded by the finding of the true cross. She cleared away the
accumulated rubbish and built the chapel on the holy ground, and that
chapel has grown into the great Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Afterwards
the locations of the events on the way to the cross were marked on the
modern street to correspond as nearly as possible to the places on the
ancient street which lay buried many feet below. The finding of a part
of the true Via Dolorosa in the excavation within our enclosure has been
a blessing to the convent."
[Illustration: WITH FACE TURNED TO THE WALL, KISSING IT AND MUTTERING
PRAYERS.]
The Abbess deserved and received more than spoken thanks for her
courtesy. We realized then the truth of her last words.
During our walk we visited an old Armenian church, which was gaudily
decorated with red brocade hangings and very antiquated paintings
quaintly representing scenes from Bible history. In the court-yard of
the church a young Armenian kindly offered us a pitcher of water, which
he said had been brought from a spring outside the city for the use of
the monks in the adjoining convent. We received it most gratefully, for
the drinking water of Jerusalem is noted for impurity, and, as we had
been cautioned against it, we had abstained from drinking water for
three days.
"Will it be difficult for the tourists to find their way through the
narrow crooked streets of the city without a guide?" inquired one of the
ladies of the dragoman at the noon hour.
"Oh no!" he replied. "Please open your map. I notice you have one. You
see that the city is divided into four marked sections by the two
principal streets which cross each other at right angles: David street
extending from the Jaffa Gate at the west, through the center of the
city, to the Temple Area at the east; and Damascus street extending from
the Damascus Gate on the north, through the center of the city, to the
Zion Gate on the south. The bazaars and little stores that tourists
visit are on these two streets, on Christian street near the Church of
the Holy Sepulchre, and in the vicinity of the Jaffa Gate. The Church of
the Holy Sepulchre is in the north-west section of the city, known as
the Christian Quarter; the Via Dolorosa passes through the north-east
section, called the Moslem Quarter; the Temple Area is on the east side;
the Wailing Place of the Jews is near the south-west corner of the
Temple Area, in the south-east or Jewish Quarter; and the Citadel is in
the south-west of Armenian Quarter. Jerusalem is not a large city. David
Street is only half a mile in length, and Damascus Street from the gate
on the north to the gate on the south is but three-fourths of a mile
long."
"This afternoon," said the guide at the noon hour on Friday, "those of
you who desire to do so may go with me to the Wailing Place of the Jews.
The Turkish authorities do not permit Jews to enter the Temple Area so
the Jews, on Friday afternoons, congregate in a narrow court, outside
and adjoining the western wall which encloses the Temple Area, to mourn
over the downfall of their beloved Zion and pray for the return of
Jewish dominion over the land of their fathers, and for the renewal of
the ancient glory of the City of David."
When we arrived at the Wailing Place, we found about a hundred Jewish
men, women, and children assembled in the court, with faces turned to
the wall, the men at one end of the court, the women at the other. Some
of the mourners pressed their faces against the wall, kissing it and
muttering prayers; some, as the guide explained to us, were reading the
Talmud; some reciting verses from the Lamentations of Jeremiah; and some
chanting the penitential Psalms of David. Others we saw weeping, the
tears running down their faces, while one or two looked around with
curious gaze at the strangers.
[Illustration: PITIED THOSE MISERABLE LEPERS AT THE GATE.]
Thence we returned through portions of the Mohammedan and Jewish
quarters of the city. The narrow streets through which we passed,--if
passage-ways ten feet wide may be called streets,--are lined with little
stores. The stocks of provisions, groceries, bread, vegetables, and
general merchandise for native consumption are displayed in the open
fronts of the shallow store-rooms and the proprietors sit or stand
outside waiting for customers, like huge spiders waiting for their prey,
or with loud voices and many gesticulations bargain with the buyers.
The streets of the Mohammedan Quarter are filthy; those of the Jewish
Quarter are worse.
"Are these alleys ever swept or cleaned?" inquired one of the disgusted
visitors.
"Oh, yes!" answered the guide, "the city, being built on the hills, has
a natural drainage. Whenever there is a heavy rain the flowing water
washes the streets."
"Well," said the visitor, "the city of Constantinople has the reputation
of being the filthiest city in Europe, but it has a brigade of canine
street cleaners to assist the rainfalls in cleaning the thoroughfares.
If the city of Jerusalem were in Europe, it could easily claim the
leading place in respect to filth; for dogs are few here and heavy rains
do not appear to be frequent."
The tramp through these quarters was not agreeable to any of the senses.
The ears were annoyed with the jargon of many dialects; the harsh voices
of the natives, the loud exclamations of the dealers, and the whining
cries of the beggars for backsheesh. The eyes were offended by the sight
of the crowds of dirty beggars, who stretched out hands in appeal and
tried to clutch the garments of the tourists with their dirty fingers,
until disgust drove away all feelings of pity. The odors from the foul
thoroughfares, from the messes of soft cheese and mixtures of eatables
offered for sale, from the discarded and decaying cauliflower leaves
under neath the stalls, from the pipes of Turkish tobacco, and from the
donkeys and unbathed human beings with whom the tourists came in close
contact, were inhaled with loathing. The uneven, stone-cobbled paving of
the narrow streets without sidewalks, the steps up and down the grades,
and the slippery condition of the muddy surface when wet caused weary
feet.
"I will not give away another piaster," exclaimed a lady whose purse had
been drawn upon frequently during our tramp. "I never met such
disagreeable beggars. There were many beggars in other cities, but they
did not whine and display their dirty rags so disgustingly as these do.
I pitied those miserable lepers at the gate, but when I threw them some
money they crowded around and tried to touch me with their diseased
hands, instead of keeping at a distance and crying, 'Unclean! Unclean!'"
The beggars were the most objectionable feature of the city; they
persisted in following visitors and it was almost impossible to drive
them away. When rid of one lot, others soon took their place. Repulsive
cripples insisted on calling attention to their deformities; sore-eyed
children clamored for assistance; and little tots with dirty,
fly-covered faces, shrilly prattled "Backsheesh." The streets were full
of these wretched creatures; they congregated near the sacred places and
there the clamor was so annoying that the tourists had little
opportunity for contemplation until they were inside the buildings and
away from the beggars' entreaties.
[Illustration: PILGRIMS FROM EVERY QUARTER OF THE GLOBE.]
We made several visits to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in order to
observe the people; to view quietly and leisurely the gorgeous
decorations, especially those in the Greek Chapel where each visit
disclosed new beauties; and to see the jewels, precious gems, and
pictures encircled in diamonds, in the Chapel of Golgotha.
[Illustration: PASSED OUT THROUGH THE DAMASCUS GATE.]
During one of these visits we sat for awhile on a bench by the wall of
the church not far from the entrance to the Sepulchre. It was
interesting to note the diversity of costumes and to watch the
difference in the behavior of the tourists and pilgrims of the various
nationalities.
[Illustration: I. FIELDS WERE COVERED WITH STONES.]
[Illustration: II. FAR BELOW LAY THE VALLEY OF JEHOSHAPHAT.]
"Notice that Russian group," said a companion as a party of Russian
pilgrims entered the church.
These people from the North, long-haired, heavy-bearded, long-booted,
heavy-coated men, and short-frocked, heavy-shod women had come there, we
could plainly see, on a holy pilgrimage to the tomb of their Savior,
believing and trusting in the reality of everything they saw. At the
Stone of Unction they prostrated themselves and kissed the stone slab,
and as they rose we could see the shaggy-bearded men wiping away the
tears with their rough hands. Then, with uncovered heads, they slowly
approached the entrance to the Sepulchre, bowed down, crossed
themselves, knelt inside, and after kissing the marble tomb, backed out,
bowing and crossing themselves until well away from the tomb.
"The people of other nationalities outwardly show more reverence for the
sacred places than do those of our own country," commented my companion.
"The guards have just censured that group of Americans on the other side
of the room. I could not hear what was said, but the actions of the
guards spoke louder than words, and I noticed that the loud talking
ceased at once."
The party of Americans came laughing and chatting toward the Sepulchre
and entered the tomb without any appearance of reverence in their
manner,--a striking contrast to the devout Russian pilgrims. Other
Americans, however, following, entered the tomb silently, and came out
with a look of awe upon their faces. One of these told us that he had
placed some postal cards and letters on the tomb to be blessed by
contact with it before mailing them to his friends. Another had taken
some bunches of flowers and laid them on the tomb for the same purpose
before pressing them for souvenirs. A party of Germans stood near us for
awhile, apparently arguing in low tones over some statement of the
guide, and then quietly and with uncovered heads advanced and entered
the Sepulchre. Some Italians knelt for a long time before the door, and
Africans, Greeks, and natives of countries unknown to us, bowed or
crossed their foreheads or breasts before the entrance. No other
nationality, however, showed such zeal and intensity of feeling as did
the Russian peasants.
On Saturday afternoon we visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to be
present at the special service held on that day. We found that the
number of guards at the door had been doubled, and that companies of
armed Turkish soldiers had been stationed within to preserve order in
the assembled throng of sight-seers and worshipers and to keep a
passage-way open through which the expected processions might pass.
Pushing our way through the crowd we obtained a good position behind
some Syrian women and children who, attired in gala costumes, held
unlighted candles in their hands. At the Place of Sepulchre the oriental
lamps above the door and the candles in the huge candlesticks had been
lighted for the special service, brilliantly illuminating the marble
front of that small building and bringing into clear relief every detail
of the carved ornamentation. In the Greek Chapel the golden lamps and
the candles at the altar were burning, and the chapel was ablaze with
reflected glory.
"They are coming," whispered some one as the tramping of feet on the
stone floor was heard.
A procession of Greek priests in gorgeous garments, swinging censers of
smoking incense and bearing aloft a golden cross, marched to the
Sepulchre, made obeisance there, then proceeded slowly around the
building several times and entered the Greek Chapel where a short
service was held. After the Greeks had left the building, a procession
of Armenian priests appeared clad in black silk robes and peculiar
looking black silk hoods draped over their heads. They were led by a
venerable Patriarch arrayed in a magnificent embroidered robe. The
Patriarch knelt and kissed the Stone of Unction, then the procession
marched singing to the Sepulchre, which they entered, two priests at a
time. After this part of the ceremony was concluded the priests marched
singing three times around the room, while a bell in the gallery merrily
clanged an accompaniment. When the Armenians had withdrawn, a procession
of Roman Catholics entered singing. The chanting was accompanied softly
by an organ in an adjoining chapel. The censer bearers waved their
smoking bowls until the whole place was fragrant with the odor of the
incense. Tonsured monks with sandaled feet, in gowns of brown, girt with
hempen cord; censer bearers, cross bearers, brazier bearers, and choir
boys in white embroidered surplices and skirts of scarlet; priests in
black; bishops in purple; and higher dignitaries in capes of fur and
long-trained robes,--all these marched round and round bearing lighted
candles and chanting the ritual to the strains of the organ, and then
proceeded toward the Latin Chapel. Our Syrian neighbor and her children
lighted their candles and joined other worshipers with candles in the
rear of this procession, and we followed to the Chapel where all knelt
for service.
[Illustration: DAVID STREET IS ONLY HALF A MILE IN LENGTH.]
Palestine appeared to us to be a land where history and tradition were
so curiously mixed that it was difficult to know where history ended and
tradition began. During our tramps around the city of Jerusalem and its
vicinity the guides pointed out the spring where the Virgin Mary washed
the clothes of the infant Jesus in the same way that we saw other women
in the East washing clothes on the banks of public streams; the hill of
evil counsel where the avaricious disciple had been tempted by gold to
betray his Master, and the field where the horror-stricken traitor ended
his life; the place just without the Gate of St. Stephen where the
sainted Stephen knelt and prayed for his persecutors until the stones
cast by the infuriated Jews crushed out his life; the spot where the
Apostle James was beheaded, commemorated by the church of St. James
which now stands on that location; the large room outside the Zion Gate
in which the Lord washed the disciples' feet and partook of the Last
Supper; the tomb of the wayward, long-haired Absalom, and the mausoleum
that covers the resting-place of his father, King David; the footprint
of Jesus in the rock and the hole made by His staff on the Mount of
Olives; the imprints of the Savior's feet in the rocky floor made during
the time of the scourging; the site of the house in which the Virgin
lived with the disciple John after the Crucifixion.
Palestine was noted in olden times as a land flowing with milk and
honey. At the Casa Nova we drank of the milk, the milk of the
black-haired goats that fed along the hillsides, and ate of the honey,
which was of delicious flavor. The Syrian waiters who served our meals
and also cared for our bedrooms were picturesquely dressed in long gowns
of blue striped material falling to their ankles, and encircled with
bright sashes, and these men at all times, whether making beds or
serving tables, wore on their heads the red fez of Turkish subjects. The
managers of the Hospice, the Franciscan monks, wore the garb in which
the monks of that order are always seen, brown gown, rope girdle, rosary
with pendant cross, and sandals.
On Sunday a cold rain fell during the day, making it unpleasant for
sight-seeing and confining the travelers to the house during most of the
day.
"How disappointing this is to be kept in the house by the rain,"
exclaimed a discontented tourist while watching the rain drops glide
down the window-pane.
"Have you thought," said another who was busily engaged with guide-book
and pencil, "that until to-day not one unpleasant day has interfered
with our trip? The temperature has been neither uncomfortably warm nor
disagreeably cold, but just delightful for the exertion of
sight-seeing."
The tourists having made a request for some heat in the house, one of
the gowned Arab servants carried a brazier into the reception room,
placed a handful of charcoal in it and lighted a fire. As we gathered
around the little fire trying to warm our hands, one could realize the
scene many centuries ago, in the Palace of Caiaphas, when the soldiers
coming in at midnight from the cold hills, kindled a fire in the midst
of the hall, and Peter, shivering from cold and fear, joined the group
around the brazier to warm himself.
"I have been trying for the past three days," remarked an elderly
clergyman, "to realize that these bare hills were once 'a land flowing
with milk and honey,' producing 'grapes, pomegranates, and figs' in
abundance. To-day I have been thinking of the changes that the tempests
of a few short years have made in the hills of my own native state, New
Hampshire, since the rapacious lumber-men have been denuding our
mountains of the forests. There, the unprotected soil is being washed
away by the heavy rains, gulleys have been formed, the brooks have
diminished or dried up, and the part of our once beautiful White
Mountains that has been cut over is desolate indeed. Now, since thinking
of the changes that have occurred in a decade at home. I can more fully
realize the changes that centuries have made here.
"Looking backward," said he, "I can see more clearly in my mind the
picture that David saw with the eye of an artist, and described with the
heart of a poet, when these bare, gray, rocky, treeless hills were
crowned with forests that protected the soil from the beating storms;
when these slopes, now furrowed with gulleys and spread with stones,
were covered with orchards and clad with verdure, where the flocks might
'lie down midst pastures of tender grass;' and when these dried up
waterways were purling brooks, where the flocks were 'led beside the
waters of quietness.' I believe that David's description of this country
was a true picture of the land as it appeared then. 'Thou waterest the
ridges thereof abundantly; thou settlest the furrows thereof; thou
makest it soft with showers; thou blessest the springing thereof. The
pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over
with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.'"
[Illustration: WHEN THESE BARE HILLS WERE COVERED WITH ORCHARDS AND CLAD
WITH VERDURE.]
"In those days the vicinity of Jerusalem was beautiful with palm trees,"
continued the clergyman, "and the City of Palms was but fifteen miles
away. Now the City of Palms is a squalid, unhealthful village, and in
the vicinity of Jerusalem it is difficult to obtain a leaf of the palm."
The low spirits caused by the drizzling rain during our last evening in
the Sacred City were increased by telegraphic news received from Jaffa.
The telegram stated that the weather was stormy and the waves running
high, and that if the sea did not subside we might not be able to
embark. This information caused considerable anxiety among the timid
members of the party and many surmises were made as to the developments
of the following day. As usual, all the arrangements for our departure
had been carefully made in advance by our managers. We were notified
that the Syrian bell boys would waken us at five o'clock, and our
baggage must be ready at five-thirty; breakfast would be served at six
o'clock; the carriages would be at the Jaffa Gate at six-thirty; and the
train would leave the Jerusalem station at seven.