Chapter 15

FLIGHT

I am coming to the holiday of my life; a time that seems, as I look back to it, like a chequered mosaic of pleasure pieces laid in bright colours, all in harmony, and making out a pattern of beauty. It is odd I should speak so; for I have known other holidays, when fewer clouds were in my sky and fewer life-shadows stretching along the landscape. Nevertheless, this is how it looks to me in the retrospect; and to write of it, is like setting the pins of that mosaic work over again. Not one of them is lost in my memory.

Truly I have known other holidays; yet never one that took me out of so much harassment and perplexity. And I could not get rid of all my burdens, even in Palestine; but somehow I got rid of all my anxious trouble about them. I had left behind so much, that I accepted even thankfully all that remained. I was free from mamma's schemes for me, and cleared from the pursuit of those who seconded her schemes; they could not follow me in the Holy Land. No more angry discussions of affairs at home, and words of enmity and fierce displeasure toward the part of the nation that held my heart. No more canvassing of war news; not much hearing of them, even; a clean escape from the demands of society and leisure for a time to look into my heart and see what condition it was in. And to my great astonishment I had found the love of admiration and the ambition of womanly vanity beginning to stir again; in me, who knew better things, and who really did not value these; in me, who had so much to make me sober and keep down thoughts of folly. I found that I had a certain satisfaction when entering a room, to know that the sight of me gave pleasure; yes, more; I liked to feel that the sight of no one else gave so much pleasure. I could hardly understand, when I came to look at it, how so small a satisfaction could have taken possession of my mind; I was very much ashamed; but the fact remained. When we set sail for Palestine I got clear, at least for the time, from all this. I hoped for ever. - And it was exceedingly sweet to find myself alone with papa.

How mamma ever consented to the plan, I do not know. Because papa had settled it and given his word, perhaps; for in those cases I know she never interfered; necessity made her yield. She would not go with us; she went to Paris, where Aunt Gary was come for the winter. Ransom went home to join the army; and papa and I took our holiday. I ought not to have been so happy, with so many causes of anxiety on my mind; Ransom in the war on one side, and Christian already engaged on the opposite side; both in danger, not to speak of other friends whom I knew; and my own and Mr. Thorold's future so very dark to look forward to. But I was happy. I believe, the very enormous pressure of things to trouble me, helped me to throw off the weight. In fact, it was too heavy for me to bear. I had trusted and given up myself to God; it was not a mock trust or submission; I laid off my cares, or in the expressive Bible words, "rolled them" upon him. And then I went light. Even my self-spoken sentence, the declaration that I ought not to marry a person who was not a Christian, did not crush me as I thought it would. Somebody has said very truly, "There is a healing power in truth." It is correct in more ways than one. And especially in truth towards God, in whole-hearted devotion to him, or as the Bible says again, in "wholly following the Lord," there is strength and healing; "quietness and assurance for ever." I was no nearer despair now than I had been before. And I was more ready for my holiday.

My holiday began on board the steamer, among the novel varieties of character and costume by which I found myself surrounded. I was certainly getting far away from the American war, far from Parisian saloons; I could not even regret the Dome of Florence. And I shall never forget the minute when I first looked upon the coast of Jaffa. I had been in the cabin and papa called me; and with the sight, a full, delicious sensation of pleasure entered my heart, and never left it, I think, while I stayed in the land. The picture is all before me. The little white town, shining in the western sun on its hill, with its foot in the water; the surf breaking on the rocks; and the long line of high land in the distance, which I knew was the hill country of Palestine. I was glad, with a fulness of gladness. Even the terrors of landing through the surf could not dash my pleasure, though the water was not quiet enough to make it safe, and I did not see how we were possibly to get through. I thought we would, and we did; and then out of the confusion on the quay we found our way to a nice little hotel. Few things I suppose are nice in Jaffa; but this really seemed clean, and I am sure it was pleasant. The Oriental style of the house - the courtyard, and alcove rooms, stone floors and cushioned divans, - were delightful to me. And so was our first dinner there; papa and I alone, tired and hungry, and eating with the Mediterranean full in sight, and the sun going down "ayont the sea." I established a truce with sorrowful thoughts that evening, and slept the night through in peace. The next morning papa found me standing at the window of one of our rooms that looked inward from the sea.

"Well, Daisy," said he, putting his hands on my shoulders - "I have got my Daisy of ten years old back again. What is it now?"

"Oh, papa," I exclaimed, "look at the housetops! I have read of housetops all my life; and now here they are!"

"They have been here all the time, Daisy."

"But - it is so impossible to realise without seeing it, papa. It was on such a housetop that Peter was when he had his vision. You can see, it is the pleasantest part of the house, papa. I should like to sleep on the housetop, as they do in summer; with only the stars over me. How nice!"

"What was Peter's vision, besides the stars?"

"Papa! Not the stars; his vision was at noonday. I have just been reading about it. How delicious the Bible will be here!"

"It is always delicious to you, I think," papa said; I fancied rather sadly. "It is a taste you were born with. Sit down and read me about that vision."

But it was papa that sat down, and I stood by the window, and we read together those chapters of the Acts; and papa grew very much interested, and we had an excellent talk all breakfast time. The strange dishes at breakfast helped the interest too; the boiled rice and meat, and the fish and the pomegranates. I seemed to have my living in Bible times as well as places. The Mediterranean lay sparkling before us; as it was before Peter no doubt when he went up to that housetop to pray. The house is gone; but it is the same sea yet.

"I shall always look upon Jaffa with respect," said papa, at last; "since here it was that the gates of religion were publicly set open for all the world, and the key taken out of the hands of the Jews. It is a little place too, to have anything of so much interest belonging to it."

"That is not all, papa," I said. "Solomon had the cedar for the Temple, and for all his great buildings, floated down here."

"Solomon!" said papa.

"Don't you remember, sir, his great works, and the timber he had to get from Lebanon?"

"Did it come this way?"

"The only way it could come, papa; and then it had to go by land up to Jerusalem - the same way that we are going; thirty- three miles."

"Where did you learn so much about it?"

"That isn't much, papa; all that is in Murray; but now may I read you about Solomon's floats of timber, while you are finishing that pomegranate?"

"Read away," said papa. "Pomegranates are not ripe now, are they?"

"They keep, papa."

Papa laughed at me, and I read to him as much as I liked; and he was almost as much engaged as I was.

"We'll go out and look at this famous harbour for lumber," he said. "It is not good for much else, Daisy; I thought yesterday we should certainly make shipwreck on that reef. Is it possible there is no better along the coast."

"It is not what we would call a harbour at all, papa. Nothing but little boats can get through that narrow opening in the reef; and I suppose, Solomon's cedar timber got through."

"The ships of old time were not much more than our boats, many of them," said my father. "How delightfully you realise everything, Daisy!"

"Well, papa, - don't you?"

"Not the past, child. I realise _you_ by my side."

"Papa, if you think about it a little, you will realise Joppa too."

"I have not your imagination, Daisy. About Solomon's temple, - there is nothing of it left now, I suppose?"

"Oh, no, papa!"

"It might, Daisy. Thebes is vastly older."

"But, papa, - don't you remember, there was not one stone of all those buildings to be left upon another stone. Nothing is left - only some of the foundation wall that supported the floor, or the platform, of the Temple."

"Well, we shall see, when we go to Jerusalem," my father said.

In the meantime we went out and took a great walk about the environs of Joppa. Through the miles of gardens; the grand orange groves, and pomegranate, lemon, fig, apricot and palm orchards. The oranges and lemons getting their great harvests ready; cultivation going on beneath the trees; the water- wheels working; the curious hedges of prickly pear, four and six feet high, reminding us all the while, if nothing else did, that we were in a very strange land. What endless delight it was! The weather had just cleared the day before; and to- day, the fifteenth of January, the sun shone still and fair and warm. I saw that papa was getting good with every step, and growing interested with every hour. We went down to the beach, and strolled along as far as the tanneries; every wave that broke at my side seeming to sing in my ears the reminder that it broke on the shores of Palestine. Papa wished the oranges were ripe; I wished for nothing.

Then we entered the city again, and examined the bazars; lingering first a good while to watch the motley, picturesque, strange and wild crowd without the city gate. It was my first taste of Oriental life; papa knew it before, but he relished it all afresh in my enjoyment of it. Of course we were taken to see Simon's house and the house where Tabitha died.

"Do you realise anything here, Daisy?" papa asked, as we stood on the flat roof of the first of these two.

"Yes, papa."

"Pray, what? St. Peter never saw this building, my dear."

"No, papa, I don't think it. But he saw the Mediterranean - just so, - and he had the same sky over him, and the same shores before him."

"The same sky, Daisy? What is the sky?"

"Yes papa, I know; but there is a difference. This Syrian sky is not like the sky over Florence nor like the sky over Melbourne. And this is what Peter saw."

"You are a delicious travelling companion, Daisy," said papa. "Your mother is good, but you are better. Well, take me with you now in your journey into the past."

We sat down there on the roof of the so-called house of Simon, papa and I; he gave the guide a bonus to keep him contented; and we read together chapters in the Old Testament and chapters in the New. It was drinking water from wells of delight. Bible words never seemed so real, nor so full. And then when I thought that I was going on to Jerusalem - to Jericho - to Mount Tabor, and the Sea of Galilee, and Lebanon, - that Joppa was only the beginning, - I could hardly contain my joy. I could only give thanks for it all the time. True, I did remember, as I looked over that bright sea of the Levant, I did remember that far away there was a region of conflict where the interests nearest to me were involved; a strife going on, in which the best blood in the world, the dearest in my account, might be shed or shedding. I remembered it all. But the burden of that care was too heavy for me to carry; I was fain to lay it down where so many a load has been laid before now; and it was easier for me to do it in Syria than anywhere else; God's own land, where His people had had so many tokens to trust Him. Where Peter's doubts of conscience were resolved by a vision, where the poor worker of kindness was raised from the sleep of death, it was not there the place for me to doubt whether the Lord looked upon my trouble, or whether he cared about it, or whether he could manage it. I laid care and doubt to sleep; and while I was in the Lord's land I walked with the Lord's presence always before me. There is no want to them that fear him.

We were detained at Joppa three days by a most pouring rain, which kept us fast prisoners in doors. The time was however not lost. We had despaired of making arrangements at Joppa for our journey, any further than such as would take us to Jerusalem. Joppa is no place for such arrangements. But while we waited there in the rain, a party of English people arrived who came to take the steamer for home. They had just ended their travels in the Holy Land; and while waiting for the steamer, one of them who was an invalid sought the shelter of our hotel. We came to know each other. And the end was, we secured their travelling equipment. Tents, servants and all, were made over to papa, with mutual pleasure at the arrangement. So when the sun shone out on the fourth day, we were ready to start in great comfort. I had a dear little Syrian pony, which carried me nicely through my whole journey; papa had another that served him well. The tents and tent fittings were in the English style of perfection; cook and interpreter and other servants knew their business, and we had no reason to complain of them from the beginning to the end of our tour. Moreover, in those days of waiting at Joppa, and intercourse with the ladies of the party, I got from them some useful hints and details which were of great service to me afterwards. I had always wished to go through Palestine living in our own tents; papa had been a little uncertain how he would do. Now it was settled. I had my maid, of course; but she was the greatest trouble I had, all the way.

The morning of our setting out from Joppa is never to be forgotten. It was clear and balmy. For miles we rode through the orange gardens, getting ready fast for their superb harvest, which would be ripe a month later. Then through a pleasant open country; - cornfields and meadows interspersed with trees in patches. It was easy riding, and I liked my pony, and my heart was full of exhilaration.

"Well?" said papa, as my eye met his one time in the course of its wanderings.

"Papa, it is the plain of Sharon!"

"You speak as if it were a place where you had played, when you were a child."

"Papa, in some measure it is like that; so often I have read about the old things that were done here."

Papa smiled at me? and asked what? But I could not tell him while we were going at a canter.

"It would be pretty in spring," he said. "Where are we to stop to-night, Daisy? I have left all that to you. I do not know the country as you do."

"Papa, we set off so late, we shall not be able to get further than Latron to-night."

"What place is that? is it any place?"

"Supposed to be the Modin of the Maccabees."

"Have you brought any books, Daisy?" was papa's next question.

"No, papa, except 'Murray' and the Bible."

"We ought to have more," he said. "We must see if we cannot supply that want at Jerusalem."

Papa's interest in the subject was thoroughly waking up. We lunched at Ramleh. How present it is to me, those hours we spent there. The olive groves and orchards and cornfields, the palms and figs, the prickly-pear hedges, the sweet breath of the air. And after our luncheon we stayed to examine the ruins and the minaret. Our master of ceremonies, Suleiman, was a little impatient. But we got off in good time and reached our camping ground just before sunset. Tiere too, the sunlight flashing on those rocks of ruin comes back to me, and the wide plain and sea view which the little hill commands. Papa and I climbed it to look at the ruins and see the view while dinner was getting ready.

"What is it, Daisy?" he said. "You must be my gazetteer and interpreter for the land; Suleiman will do for the people."

"It is an old Crusaders' fortress, papa; built to command the pass to Jerusalem."

That was enough for papa. He pored over the rough remains and their associations; while I sat down on a stone and looked over the Philistine plain; scarce able to convince myself that I was so happy as to see it in reality. Papa and I had a most enjoyable dinner afterwards; he enjoyed it, I knew; and our night's rest was sweet, with a faint echo of the war storms of the ages breaking upon my ear.

To my great joy, there was no storm of the elements the next morning, and we were able to take up our march for Jerusalem. The road soon was among the hills; rough, thickety, wild; from one glen into another, down and up steep ridge sides, always mounting of course by degrees. Rough as it all was, there were olives and vineyards sometimes to be seen; often terraced hillsides which spoke of what had been. At last we came up out of a deep glen and saw at a distance the white line of wall which tells of Jerusalem. I believe it was a dreary piece of country which lay between, but I could hardly know what it was. My thoughts were fixed on that white wall. I forgot even papa.

We had pouring rains again soon after we got to Jerusalem. I was half glad. So much to see and think of at once, it was almost a relief to be obliged to take things gradually. I had been given numerous good bits of counsel by the kind English ladies we had seen at Jaffa; and according to their advice, I persuaded papa that we should go down at once to Jericho and the Dead Sea, without waiting till the weather should grow too hot for it; then Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives and all the neighbourhood would be delightful. Now, they were very gray and forlorn to a stranger's eye. I wanted papa to be pleased. _I_ could have enjoyed Jerusalem at any time. But I knew that by and by Jericho would be insupportable.

So papa and Suleiman made their arrangements. All that we wanted was a guard of Arabs; everything else we had already. The rain ceased after the third day; and early in the morning we went out of the eastern gate of the city and moved slowly down the slope of the Kedron valley and up the side of Mount Olivet.

It was my first ride in the environs of Jerusalem; and I could hardly bear the thoughts it brought up. Yet there was scant time for thoughts; eyes had to be so busy. The valley of the Kedron! I searched its depths, only to find tombs everywhere, with olive trees sprinkled about among them. Life and death; for if anything is an emblem of life in Palestine, I suppose it is the olive. They looked sad to me at first, the olives; their blue-gray foliage had so little of the fresh cheer of our green woods. Afterwards I thought differently. But certainly the valley of the Kedron was desolate and mournful in the extreme, as we first saw it. Nor was Olivet less so. The echo of forfeited promises seemed to fill my ear; the shades of lost glory seemed to tenant all those ways and hillsides. I could but think what feet had trod those paths; what hands of blessing had been held out on these hills; turned back and rejected, to the utter ruin of those who rejected them. The places of Solomon's splendour and David's honour, in the hands of the Moslem; or buried beneath the ruins of twenty desolations. And in the midst of such thoughts which possessed me constantly, came thrills of joy that I was there. So we mounted over the shoulder of the Mount of Olives, and the day cleared and brightened as we went on. Then came the ruins of Bethany. I would have liked to linger there; but this was not the time. I left it for the present.

"We must dismount here, Daisy," said papa the next minute. And he set me the example. "Our own feet will do this next piece of road most satisfactorily."

We scrambled down, over the loose stones and rock, the very steep pitch just below Bethany. I do not know how deep, but hundreds of feet certainly. Our mules and horses came on as they could.

"Is this to be taken as a specimen of Palestine roads, Daisy?"

"I believe they are pretty bad, papa."

"How do you like it?"

"Oh, papa," said I, stopping, "I like it. Look - look yonder - do you see that glimmer? do you know what that is, papa?"

"It is water -"

"It is the Dead Sea."

"Thirty-six hundred feet below. We have a sharp ride before us, Daisy."

"Not quite so much below us - we have come down some way. Papa, don't you enjoy it?"

"I enjoy _you_," he said, smiling. "Yes, child, I enjoy it; only I don't enjoy such villainous roads."

"But then, papa, you know it is the only possible way the road can go, and always has been; and so we are sure that Christ was here many a time. _Here_, papa, where our feet are treading."

Papa looked at me and said nothing.

The way was so pleasant, that we walked on ahead of our mules, till we came to the spring about a mile from Bethany. It was strange to look at the water pouring out its never failing stream, and to remember it had been doing just so ever since nineteen hundred years ago.

"How often travellers have rested here and drunk of the water, papa; how often Christ was here."

"That arch was not over the spring in those days, though," said papa.

But papa stood and looked at the spring and at the ravine, and I saw that he was catching something of my feeling. We mounted there, and the rest of the way we had no more talk. I did not want to talk. There was too much to think about, as we wound down the rough valleys or watercourses among the desolate hills; while the air grew constantly warmer as we got lower. No trees, no life, no vine terraces; and this was the way to Jericho. At the ruined khan, a good distance from the top, we dismounted and stopped to rest and take our lunch.

"Well, Daisy," said papa, "are you enjoying yet?"

"Every minute, papa."

"I am very glad. But I am very tired."

"Papa, you must take a good rest here; and here is an orange for you. I will give you something else directly."

Papa stretched himself out wearily on the stones.

"What is the source of your pleasure just now, Daisy? It is as barren a landscape as ever I traversed."

"Papa, David went this way when he fled from Absalom."

"Humph!" said papa, as if there were not much pleasure in that association.

"And Jesus and His apostles came this way, up from Jericho; up and down, I suppose, many a time; they have rested _here_, papa."

"And I see, Daisy, you love the ground where those feet have trod. I never could understand it before. I fancy, I could never attain power of realisation to get near enough to the subject."

"Do you now, papa?"

"Hardly. By sympathy with you, Daisy."

"A little below, papa, we shall come to the Valley of Achor, where Achan was stoned."

"I don't know that story, Daisy. You may read it to me."

We had a long reading and resting there by the ruined khan. Papa was ready to listen and talk; and I saw that so long as we were in Palestine he would read the Bible as much as I liked. Then we made the rest of our way. I knew he could not but be interested with that. The scenery became so wild and grand as to satisfy even him. We got the glorious view of the plains of Jericho from the top of the steep descent, and stood still for some time to look. Papa said it was a noble view; but to me it was so full of the riches of association that I could hardly feast upon it enough. Down there, Jericho of old had stood and fallen; when the priests and the people of Israel compassed it about with trumpets of victory. There, or over against it, the Jordan had been divided to let the people pass over. In later days Elijah and Elisha had gone over single-handed. Down on that plain had stood Herod's Jericho, which Christ had gone through time and again; where Zaccheus climbed the tree to see Him, and Bartimeus sitting by the wayside had cried out for his mercy and got it. What was there before me in all that scene that did not tell of the power of faith - of the grace of God - of the safety and strength of His children - of the powerlessness of their enemies. My heart sang hymns and chanted psalms of rejoicing, while my little Syrian pony stood still with me at the top of the pass of Adummim. I even forgot papa.

At the bottom we found ourselves in a new world. Water and wood, luxuriant vegetation of many kinds; a stream even to ford, the brook which comes down from Wady Kelt, now full with the rains; a warm delicious atmosphere, and the sun shining on the opposite Moab mountains.

And then came another sight which is very pleasant at the close of a long day of fatigue and excitement; our tents, up and ready for us. Our Syrian cook gave us a good dinner; and papa was satisfied to see me so happy. I thought he was a little happy himself.