CHAPTER VII.

SHARON.

The preceding chapters bring down the history of the Survey to the end of the campaign of 1872. In the winter Mr. Drake’s health became so much affected that he was obliged to try the effect of a sea voyage to Egypt. Thus, on the 1st of February, he left me alone for a month. On the 26th I marched out from Haifa, and again took the field, our intention being to fill in the broad tract of plain and low hills between Carmel and Jaffa, and from the sea to the Samaritan mountains previously surveyed.

Our first camp was at a village not marked on any map and much wanted, for it was known that a place called Geba of Horsemen, which Herod’s veterans colonised, must have existed near Carmel, and here we found the required spot in the present Jeb’a at the foot of the hill.

All round us were places of interest. The village had rock-cut tombs, and a fine olive-grove, amongst the trees of which sat the little “boomehs,” or Athenian owls only some ten inches high. By day their peculiar cry, a sort of mew, is the only indication of their lurking-place, but by night their big eyes can be seen in the branches.

To the south-east we discovered a large volcanic outbreak at Ikzim, which appears to have been a submarine crater according to the geologist’s verdict on our specimens.

To the west was ’Athlît, amongst the ruins of which we spent several days measuring and planning. This place was one of the most famous Crusading strongholds of Palestine. It was built by the Templars in 1218, and a contemporary description of their work exists. Jaques de Vitry describes the outer enceinte, the ditch and strong wall, built across the neck of the promontory, and protecting the town on the east. He notices the two great towers behind, of which only a single wall, belonging to the northern one, remains; he speaks of the church now destroyed, and of the great vaults still existing. Thus we have here a dated specimen of Gothic architecture in Palestine, and the magnificent ruins are worthy of the great order which erected the fortress. The place was called Pilgrim’s Castle by the knights, and long resisted every effort of the Moslems to capture it. Only in 1291, just before the fall of Acre, was it finally lost to the Christians, and with its capture the last hopes of the Christian dominion in the country were overthrown. The chronicler describes the huge stones, which could scarcely be dragged by a yoke of oxen; and to the wheels of the carts, which brought the blocks from the quarry for the walls, we may ascribe the deep ruts in the soft rock, on the roads leading from the quarried cliff on the east, towards the town. Here also we have proof that the Crusaders themselves hewed stones with a marginal draft and a rude rustic boss, for no old materials are used up in ’Athlît, and drafted stones occur even in the voussoirs of the pointed arches.

Just outside this position is a little fort with a rock-cut ditch and rock-hewn stables with mangers still in place. It is called Dustrey, and the name is a corruption of District or Destroit, the name of a little tower which the Templars, in 1218, found guarding a narrow passage in the rocks. The passage was called “House of Narrow Ways,” and is mentioned as near the camping ground of Richard Lion-Heart on his march southwards to Jaffa.

’Athlît then was the point where the pilgrims of the thirteenth century landed. Their road was protected for them, both towards Nazareth and towards Jerusalem, by chains of forts still remaining at distances of an easy day’s journey.

It is curious to observe how many ancient sites the Crusaders grouped round the Pilgrim’s Castle. The religious devotee was shown, as soon as he landed, no less than three famous places--ancient Tyre, Capernaum, Meon (the home of Nabal),--and probably Sarepta also; of these the true sites were separated by distances of many days’ journey, in parts not held by the Christians, and one is tempted to suppose that design, rather than ignorance, was the true cause why they were so grouped. Caipha (or Haifa) just north was shown as a place where Simon Peter used to fish. ’Athlît itself was called ancient Tyre, perhaps because near a place named Tîreh, and Sarepta was possibly shown at Surafend close by. Meon was here placed because a confusion existed, in the Crusading mind, between Carmel, the city of the south of Judah whence Abigail came, and Mount Carmel, the scene of Elijah’s sacrifice. But, stranger still, Capernaum was shown in the same district, for reasons not easy to penetrate. The place is mentioned more than once, and Benjamin of Tudela speaks of its distance from Haifa, by means of which we are able to identify it with a village near ’Athlît, now called Kefr Lâm. Capernaum was a fortress, and remains of its towers and walls still exist; but there is nothing to show whether it was supposed to be the real town of our Lord, or merely a place of similar name.

These places, and many other ruins of interest, lie in the narrow plain extending twenty miles south of the Carmel promontory. This plain suddenly enlarges to more than double its width, or to about nine miles, south of the Nahr ez Zerka, or Crocodile River; and a cliff above the beautiful springs, whence this stream is fed near Mâmâs, forms the end of the Carmel block. The Zerka is a deep perennial stream, fringed with rushes and full of Syrian papyrus, forming a blue pool in one place where it is dammed across to collect its waters, and thence rushing down, even in autumn, in a strong stream to the sea; its mouth is guarded by a Crusading fort, and near it are the remains of a Crusading bridge. North and south of the stream there are large marshes, full of tamarisk and of tall canes. The clear springs, under the hills, are perennial, and by them are remains of a Roman theatre at Mâmâs, which has been converted later into a fortress. This stream has been known from the time of Strabo and Pliny as the Crocodile River, and in it the crocodile still exists, being, according to general native evidence, unknown in any other stream in Palestine.

On the sides of Carmel we discovered also a ruin called Semmaka, or the “Sumach tree,” where are remains of what seems to me to have been undoubtedly a synagogue. The dimensions and ornamentation of the lintel stones and pillars reproduce exactly those of the Galilean synagogues; and the place is a very likely one, as the town of Haifa has been a favourite residence of the Jews, from the time of Christ to the present day.

The district we now entered is rarely visited by travellers. The natives are savage and unruly, and the Government finds much difficulty in repressing their internal feuds. They are robbers and murderers, and we were astonished at the number of skulls and bones, in the old tombs, until we found that many were fractured, and we were told that they had belonged to persons murdered by the villagers. In one case I entered a Jewish sepulchre, the door of which was open, and found, to my horror, some six newly-interred corpses, lying on the floor in various directions, not with the right side and face to Mecca according to the proper form of sepulture among Moslems. These corpses therefore belonged apparently to strangers recently murdered.

Early in March, Drake returned and remained with us until the 1st of May, when he left for England and did not rejoin us until October. Thus, for the greater part of the year 1873, I was working with the only assistance of my excellent sergeant and corporal.

The weather was still uncertain. On the night of our arrival at Jeb’a, we had a heavy thunderstorm: again on the 18th of March we had, in a single storm, no less than 1·74 inches of rain. Yet, notwithstanding this, it was a pleasant time, for the air was cool and fresh, the hills carpeted with wild flowers, and the country round the camp full of objects of interest.

On the 21st of March we struck our tents, and marched south to Kannîr, on the edge of the Plain of Sharon, and opposite to Cæsarea, nine miles away. Scarcely had we settled down in our new position, when on the 15th the equinoctial gales came upon us, and found us in a bare flat field, without the shelter of either houses or trees.

The district west of camp was all plain, and to the east were the lower slopes of the “breezy land.” Both the slopes and the plain were covered with an open forest of oaks, less dense than that on the Nazareth hills, but of finer trees; and this woodland is the last remains of the great forest of Sharon, which is mentioned by Strabo as a “mighty wood.” The scenery is very pretty, and the streams, of which there are three between the Zerka and the ’Aujeh near Jaffa (all noticed in the march of the English in 1191 under King Richard), are, even in autumn, full of water.

The famous rose of Sharon (Cant. ii. 1) is apparently the beautiful white narcissus, so common on the plain in spring. The Jews themselves, in their Targum commentaries, so explain the word, and the modern name Buseil, used by the peasantry, is radically identical with the Hebrew title in the Bible. The “lily of the valleys” is probably the blue iris which is now called Zembakîyeh in Palestine.

From Kannîr we visited the magnificent remains of Cæsarea, lying low among the broad dunes of rolling, drifted sand, and so hidden on the land side as only to be seen when within a mile of the walls. The survey of the ruins occupied nearly a week, the principal points of interest only can here be touched upon.

Cæsarea is one of Herod’s cities, completed in 13 B.C. on the old site of Strato’s Tower. The magnificence of Herod’s work at Samaria, Ascalon, Antipatris, and above all at this seaport town, probably far surpassed that of any of the work of the kings of Israel and Judah, excepting Solomon’s great walls at Jerusalem. It is instructive, therefore, to note how little is left of Herod’s buildings, for if of erections so solid and large, constructed at so comparatively recent a period, there remain now but scattered fragments, surely it is most unreasonable to expect an explorer to unearth the “Ivory House” of Ahab (even allowing this to have been a palace at all), or to recover the Calves of Bethel, and the Ark of the Covenant.

At Cæsarea we are brought face to face with another vexed question--the reliability of Josephus. Some Writers have extolled the Jewish historian as a model of almost infallible veracity, but a reaction against this exaggerated view has led to a depreciation of the author, which seems to be now very general. Where authorities are so few, it is surely dangerous to underrate their value: but the question with regard to Josephus is a double one. First, did he write truthfully? secondly, is the present text free from corruption? To this we may often add the inquiry how far are arguments drawn from Whiston’s faulty translation, rather than from the original Greek?

That the present text is often corrupt, there is abundant evidence to prove. That Josephus wrote descriptions which he knew to be exaggerated, it is more difficult to show. Eastern descriptions always lack the exactitude which belongs to the Western mind, and hyperbole seems to be inseparable, in Eastern thought, from elegant description. In the case of Josephus, also, personal feeling undoubtedly interferes. On visiting the spot, one cannot fail to notice how exaggerated is his description of Jotopata, which he defended, and how the ingrained conceit of the Semitic mind appears in his account of his own doings; but at Masada we shall have cause to admire the fidelity of his detailed account of the fortress.

It must also be noticed that far greater correctness of detail is to be found (as would naturally be expected) in his descriptions of events occurring, and of places existing, during his own lifetime, and that for this reason his first production--the Wars, is far more valuable than his compilation of the Antiquities, though even in this he draws from early sources external to the Old Testament.

Here at Cæsarea we have a description of the port and public buildings which contains undoubted inaccuracies. He represents the port as equal in size to the Piræus, but it measures scarcely two hundred yards across either way, whilst the famous harbour of Athens was three quarters of a mile long and over six hundred yards in breadth. Josephus also speaks of the mole on the south side of the harbour as being “two hundred feet.” This can hardly mean in length, for the present measure is more than a hundred and thirty yards, and, if he means in breadth, the estimate is exaggerated, for the greatest width at present is eighty-five feet.

Thus, without taking any notice of the great length given for the stones sunk to form part of the breakwater, we find that Josephus estimates the harbour as equal to one of twenty times its capacity, and the mole at over double its real width. It must indeed be remembered that he wrote neither at Cæsarea nor at Piræus, and that exact surveys had then no existence. Yet this case is sufficient to prove that the measurements twice given (Ant. xv. 9, B.J. i. 21) are unreliable, and the descriptions exaggerated.

In shape the port of Cæsarea was not unlike the Piræus. The southern mole was adorned with towers, and had three colossi at the end, supported on two huge blocks of stone; on the north side a reef ran out, and was also adorned with three colossi on a tower. A temple of white stone stood opposite the mouth of the port, and of this the foundations appear still to exist--a wall with niches for statues, well worthy of examination as being of white stones, whilst all the other buildings are of brown-coloured masonry. In this temple were colossal statues of Cæsar and of Rome.

An amphitheatre, still remaining, was also built, to the south by the sea, capable of holding, as Josephus says, a vast number, for its diameter is 560 feet, and it could contain 20,000 persons. The theatre appears to have been within its circuit, where it still remains, but the hippodrome, over 1000 feet long, seems unnoticed by the historian. It is to the east, and in it are the remains of a goal post of granite, a magnificent truncated cone seven feet six inches high, once standing apparently on a base, a single block of red granite thirty-four feet long. How such blocks were moved it is difficult to imagine; nor was the material to be obtained in Palestine, being a fine kind of granite, so hard that the peasantry endeavouring to cut the stele into millstones, have only penetrated a few inches into the stone.

The wall of the Roman town was traced, and found to embrace an area of four hundred acres; but Crusading Cæsarea was much smaller, being only about thirty acres, within a rectangle of six hundred yards by two hundred and fifty.

Cæsarea was considered, after the fall of Jerusalem, to be the capital of Palestine. Sometimes it was spoken of as part of the “land” by the Jews, sometimes it was excluded. Jews, Syrians, and Samaritans dwelt in it, and the place was the scene of many bloody feuds between them. In the Talmud the port (Leminah), and the famous promenade along the mole are noticed, but I find no ancient account of the great aqueducts which brought water to the city, otherwise supplied only by a single well. One of these is carried from springs on the Carmel hills, a distance of eight miles, on arches with a double channel, and is perhaps the finest engineering work in the country, evidently of Roman origin; the second, or low level, brings water from the pool above the dam in the Crocodile River. The manner in which the rocky ridge along the coast is pierced, and long rock-staircases cut down to the tunnel, with the separation of the two channels when crossing the great marshes, are indications of high scientific education in the builders. The native tradition says that the two aqueducts were made, by two daughters of a king, for a wager as to who should first convey water to the capital.

The history of Cæsarea is one of many vicissitudes. It became a bishopric in 200 A.D., and was the home of Origen and of Eusebius. The Franks took it in 1001, when the green glass dish, called “the Holy Grail,” was found by the Genoese. Saladin conquered it in the fatal year 1187; but its walls were again erected by Gautier d’Avesnes, in 1218, and the place was taken back by the Moslems the same year. Ten years later it was again taken, and again fell. In 1251 it was re-fortified by St. Louis; but the invincible Bibars destroyed it in 1265. The restorations of St. Louis are still plainly distinguishable from the older work of Gautier.

On the south side of the town the Crusading towers project into the sea along the great mole, and stand probably on the site of Herod’s tower Drusus. On the north the pillars of the Roman town have been used up to form a long jetty, running parallel with the reefs; and other shafts have, as at Ascalon, been built into the walls. On the top of the southern hill, within the Crusading walls, are the foundations of the fine cathedral, and to the north is a second smaller church. These are the only public buildings which remain distinguishable, and the whole extent, within the Roman enceinte, is now but a mass of fallen masonry, excepting the dark, dismantled towers and scarps of the thirteenth-century fortress, and the shapeless tower on the mole.

In our rides to and from Cæsarea, we constantly had reason to admire the faint, harmonious colouring of the wild flowers on the untilled plain. Cæsarea was surrounded by fields of the yellow marigold, which produced a bad kind of hay-fever, and gilded our legs in riding. Ancient ruins in Palestine are, in spring, easily distinguished, by the growth of this plant, and of the marsh-mallow. Other flowers were also conspicuous--the red pheasant’s eye, in some cases as big as a poppy; blue pimpernels, moon-daisies, the lovely phlox, gladioles, and huge hollyhocks. Swarms of “painted-lady” butterflies fluttered over the mallows; the hoopoes had just arrived, and were fanning their crests up and down in the oak boughs; the storks were solemnly marching over the plain; and the air was full of the white-footed lesser kestrel, also a migratory bird.

Early in April the corn was ripening under the oaks; but a great portion of the plain is covered with marshes, among which the Ghawarni Arabs, who are almost independent, have their camps. The tracks through the boggy land are known only by themselves, and the government is thus unable to do more than inflict a poll-tax on them. Here the shaggy brown buffaloes might often be seen sunk, like hippopotami, in the deep, muddy stream, the nose and horns only visible--for the peculiar set of the neck allows the head to be extended quite horizontally, the nose, ears, and eyes in line, as in the hippopotamus.

We made diligent inquiry as to the crocodiles, and visited Abu Nûr, the miller on the river. He took us up a ladder into the loft above the mill, where we sat in state on carpets, as he prepared coffee, our eyes blinded with wood-smoke, and our ears deafened with the whirl of the mill-wheel. The old man promised to do all in his power--“Inshallah,” he would get us a crocodile. He also criticised my riding-whip, which he pronounced good, but not equal to one he had seen, which could also be used as a chair and umbrella, with a sword-blade inside.

The Arabs and Turkomans of the plain are rich in flocks and herds. Long lines of the Syrian fat-tailed sheep, black goats, and small red oxen covered the plain. The rich people in the hills had sent down their horses for spring grazing, and camps were pitched, round which forty or fifty fine horses were picketed, feeding on the grass and flowers. Here also I noticed the peculiar fashion of sewing the ears of donkey colts together, to make them stand up, and of splitting the cows’ ears, so that they appear to have two pairs of horns as well as ears.

On the 8th of April we moved south to Zeita, on the edge of the hills. From this camp no discoveries of much importance were made; but we visited two Crusading towers which formed fine stations in the plain--one at Kâkôn, a place mentioned, in 1160, by Benjamin of Tudela, as being the ancient Keilah; the second at Kŭlŭnsaweh (which means “mitred”), where is a beautiful hall, probably part of the Castle of Plans, built by the Templars in 1191.

On one of our expeditions along the coast from Mukhâlid, we perceived, to our astonishment, unknown rocks or islands out at sea. Soon, however, I saw that our islands were moving, and came to the conclusion that they were drifting wrecks or rafts, wrecked vessels being very common all along this harbourless coast; but presently the blocks broke up and soared into the air; they were two large flocks of pelicans, rocking on the summer sea.

The country near the coast was here all of blown sand, with scattered bushes, and, farther inland, are dunes of semi-consolidated red sandstone. Near Jaffa there are low oak-bushes, which spring from the roots of a forest, now entirely felled; and, east of our camp, an open woodland exists, with a ruin called Umm es Sûr, “mother of the wall.” In this name we see probably remains of Assur, the name of a forest near the coast, through which the English and the Templars fought their way before arriving at Arsûf, during the famous march of Richard Lion-Heart.

The Emîr of the Howârith Arabs was camped near us, and pressed us to visit his tent, which was pitched in the middle of the plain among coarse grass and thistles--a low black camel’s-hair cloth stretched over rude poles, and the sides closed in with reed matting. The women’s apartment was on the north, shut off with matting; on the south and west the tent was open. Carpets were spread, and gay-coloured pillows strewn on the ground. The Emîr’s black slave, Sheikh Saleh, and a little black demon, his head all shaven except the _shûsheh_, or top-knot, took our horses. The Emîr was not content with our sipping coffee; he insisted on our eating salt with him. A sound of grinding arose behind the matting, and two good-looking women in the dark blue, sweeping, long-sleeved robes peculiar to Bedawin, went off to fetch water, with large jars balanced on their heads. The elders of the tribe sat, half asleep, around us, one being remarkable for a fine pair of silver-mounted pistols.

Other guests began soon to arrive, on good grey mares. The young men were shaved, all but their mustachios, and gaily dressed, having red leather top-boots with tassels. One had baggy trousers of chocolate colour, and the usual square lambskin jacket, wool inside, which is worn in winter; in his hand was a spear, fifteen feet long. They alighted, touching head, lips, and heart to the Emîr, who clasped their hands and kissed them on each cheek. The Arabs do not, as a rule, actually kiss, but lay their foreheads together and make a sound of kissing with their mouths.

The Bedawin are immensely superior to the peasantry in politeness and quietness of manner. Life in the country of the Arabs is really nearer civilisation, in many respects, than that among the villagers, and nothing is a greater error than to speak of the Bedawin as savages. My pleasantest expeditions were always those among the “houses of hair,” and with the wild Arabs we had far less difficulty in dealing than with the Fellahin.

The conversation was curious. We gave the Emîr our staple bit of astonishing information, that the English Queen had more Moslems under her rule than the Sultan; and he inquired how long we had ruled India. One of the elders disagreed with our reply, and said the English had held it only forty-five years. The Emîr made him a cutting answer, and he collapsed.

About one p.m. dinner appeared. A wooden bowl, nearly four feet in diameter, was carried in on a mat. It was piled with rice and portions of roast lamb just killed, with bread and vegetables below, and melted butter over all. We despised the three brass spoons, and, washing our right hands, boldly plunged them in, squeezing the rice into balls. A negro attended with a green glass tumbler of water. As soon as we retired, hungry Arabs slowly filled the vacant places, at the invitation of the Emîr, who only tasted a few mouthfuls until his guests were fed. The dogs licked up the scraps, and the calves walked in and lay by us in the shade. Soap and water, coffee and tobacco followed, and we retired, sending a small tin of gunpowder to our host in the evening.

Our camp was not a pleasant one; the peasantry were surly, and the Arabs dangerous. Almost every night attempts were made to steal our horses and mules, and were only frustrated by the vigilance of Habib, who lay, gun in hand, by the line of tethered animals, and fired on the thieves more than once. The place was also infested with scorpions, and I was stung by one in six places along the leg, before I could get off my riding-breeches in which it had hidden. Habib licked the bitten places carefully, having, as he assured me, once eaten a scorpion, and thus obtained the power of healing the stings; this is a common idea among the natives; the stings were certainly less painful than on a former occasion.

The view from the Mukhâlid camp was very extensive; the Carmel ridge and the Mahrakah peak were plainly seen, with the whole broken line of the watershed blue in the distance, and white villages on little knolls, sharply defined against the shadow of the long flat curve of Ebal; the crater of Sheikh Iskander, with the lower plateau to the north, was distinctly shown against the sky-line, and, yet more distant, appeared the Safed mountains and a silver thread of snow on Hermon, one hundred miles away. To the south, the eye roamed over low sand-dunes with patches of red and of bright yellow, with a few scattered oaks, over corn-land, and, farthest off, a long line of cliff, with a promontory on which the town of Jaffa was seen distinctly. Thus the panorama from Hermon to Jaffa embraced a distance of 120 miles.

On the 7th we marched up into the hills, to a place called Kefr Zîbâd, and experienced a frightfully hot sirocco. The treeless plain was scorched with heat, the flowers all dead and the corn all reaped. The grey hills, the olives, houses, and ruins, had a fossilised appearance, and, over all, a terrible leaden sky was spread; the poor dogs hid from the sun in the thorny bushes, and had to be thrown into every pond that was passed to cool them.

Next day was as bad, but, on the 9th, the fresh breeze from the sea came back, and the work became less arduous. The country was one scarcely visited before by Europeans, and the villagers were in some cases so alarmed by our appearance and our arms, that they fled in the greatest terror; but a report got about that we were sent by the Sultan, to see which of the villages had become ruinous, and hence we became favourites, and every possible ruin in the village lands was shown to us with the greatest eagerness, as it was supposed that taxes would be remitted in proportion to the amount of desolation.

At one place called Bâka the great gig umbrella over the theodolite attracted much attention; and here, as at Kâkôn, the chief delight to elderly men was a peep through the theodolite telescope.

“What do you see, O father?” cried the less fortunate who crowded round the observer.

“I see Hammad and his cows, two hours off, as if he were close here!” replied the delighted elder.

Here also we were near Kûr, the head-quarters of another of the great native families like our old friends the Jerrâr; and the head of the house--which is called Beit Jiyûs, came to see me with some twenty followers. My knowledge of Arabic was still most rudimentary, and I found conversation very difficult; but the old man was quite happy, staring at all the European novelties, and exclaiming at all he saw and heard: “O prophet! O Lord Mohammed! Mashallah!”

The business connected with certain prisoners taken from a tribe which had attacked Corporal Armstrong on the 3rd May, near Mukhâlid, now took me to Nâblus. It appeared that all the offenders had been allowed to leave prison, apparently in consequence of monetary arrangements with persons in authority; yet no sooner was it understood that I was to be expected in Nâblus, than they were recaptured and produced for me to see. The Deputy-Governor invited me to attend their examination by the Mejlis, or Town Council, where a curious scene was presented. The Kâdi sat on a diwân, in the whitewashed room serving as a justice hall--a stout man (Kâdis become fat for a well-known reason), his eyelids drooping, his dress a long robe striped yellow and white, with a short blue cloth jacket and the huge white turban--emblem of superior holiness and incorruptibility; and by him, a thin clerk, in a red fezz and white clothes. The military element was represented by a colonel in blue, with gold sleeves, his frock-coat unbuttoned, as is usual with Turkish officers. Other members were less remarkable. Mr. Elkarey, the missionary, kindly escorted me, and interpreted for me. The majesty of the council was upheld by a guard at the door, and a smart sergeant in black would have been almost European in appearance, but for a green silk comforter over his coat.

Two prisoners, both horribly squalid in appearance, were brought up. They did not deny that they belonged to the Nefei’at, or “club-bearing Arabs.” One was a very short man, his face dreadfully pitted by small-pox, and with only one eye; the second, a very tall, thin man, of a Don Quixote type of face, with beautiful white teeth. Evidence was first taken of the two together, then of each separately, by which means their various versions were made to prove contradictory. The tall man wept and wrung his hands; the little man held up a corner of his shirt, and shook it, to testify his innocence, repeating many times that he “feared God.” The Kâdi inquired whether they were Howareth dogs, Belauneh dogs, or Nefei’at dogs, and invoked destruction on most of their relations. The other councillors shouted all at one time, and some stood up on the diwân, after which fresh pipes and coffee were brought. A witness was called, and, while he was coming, the case of a big miller and his man was taken up; and in the middle of it in came the old high-priest of the Samaritans, looking like Moses in Millais’ picture, attired in coffee colour, with the crimson turban, and accusing a debtor of defrauding him of a shilling, which the latter denied, winking at the judge in secret. Presently the Vice-Governor came in, a man of peculiarly sanctimonious appearance, and notoriously corrupt. The shouting was then redoubled, three cases apparently being all tried and decided at once.

The scene was a farce as far as justice was concerned, but the policy which always appeared to me best was to insist only on imprisonment, and to make sure this was actually enforced, leaving it to the authorities to inflict some sort of monetary punishment, without my asking for fines, well knowing that once in prison, a Syrian does not get out without paying something to somebody. This line of conduct made us quite popular with some governors, whose incomes were ridiculously small.

On Friday, the 23rd of May, we again marched south, and suffered even more than in the last move. First of all, no camels could be got, until the Sheikh of the village had been solemnly warned of the result of disobeying the Sultan’s firman; then, all the long day through, a scorching sirocco blew from the east, and the road was almost impassable, across valleys a thousand feet deep, including the great boundary of Kânah. The heat was even worse next day, the glass being over 106° F. in the shade; at Gaza, the same day, it stood at 118°, while in Beyrout most of the mulberry-trees were killed by the wind, and the silk crop failed. On the third day, the Sunday, I was waked in the afternoon by a churning noise, and saw a whirlwind coming rapidly through the olive-grove towards the camp, tearing up the thorny plants, the stubble, dust, and small stones, whilst all round a dead calm prevailed. Fortunately, its path was to one side of the tents, and it passed by without doing any damage. Next morning the fresh west wind returned, and surveying became once more a possibility.

The country round us was some of the wildest in Palestine. The villagers had never before seen a Frank, and on the maps it is almost a blank. The hills were stony, but very fine groves of beautiful old olive-trees existed all round the villages.

Here, on the 30th of May, I received an addition to the party, by the arrival of Corporal Brophy, R.E.

Many fine ruins existed round us, showing that it is probably to the agency of man, rather than to the gradual action of weather, that the utter destruction of ruins in more accessible parts of Palestine is to be ascribed.

A good instance of the valuable finds made by the Survey party in this unknown district, is that of the ruin called Deir Serûr. Here we discovered the site of an important town, with public buildings of good masonry, and rock-cut tombs, evidently a place of great importance. This conspicuous site is not marked on any modern map, nor described by any previous traveller, so far as I have been able to find. On a map of the last century, an episcopal town of the fifth century called Sosura, is, however, shown in just the position of this ruin of Serûr, and the character of the buildings seems to agree with this identification.

At Kurâwa we found also a rock-cut sepulchre, with a classic façade, rivalling any of those at Jerusalem, and apparently to be attributed to the first or second century of the Christian era; yet, on this fine monument, there is not a single letter of inscription to tell the names of its former occupants. These are but single instances of the large number of interesting discoveries, in central Palestine, which are stored up in the memoir of the map.

On the 3rd of June we moved again south, and crossed the most difficult valley we had yet encountered. It was nearly a thousand feet deep, and only a narrow goat-walk led down its precipitous sides, above which hangs the fine ruin called Deir Kŭl’ah, the “Convent Castle.”

This valley forms the boundary between Judea and Samaria, and runs into the plain near Râs el ’Ain. We were obliged to follow its course westward for some distance before it became possible to take the pack-animals up the other side.

Our new camp at Rentîs was in more open ground, and but little remained to be done in order to join on to the old limits of the Survey on the south. A hole in the work was, however, here left in the plain which weather forbade our attempting to fill in, and, as nearly all our horses were laid up with sore-back and lameness, the summer rest, which we had now earned, came none too soon to save the party from demoralisation.

Two places of great interest came within our district from the Rentîs camp, namely, Tibneh, in the hills to the east, and Râs el ’Ain to the west: the first supposed by some to represent Timnath Heres, the burial-place of Joshua; the second, Antipatris, built by Herod the Great.

Tibneh is a ruined site on one of the great Roman roads from Lydda and Râs el ’Ain to Jerusalem. A mound, or Tell, stands on the south bank of a deep valley, surrounded with desolate mountains; by it, a clear spring issues from a cave; to the south-west is a beautiful oak-tree, the largest I saw in Palestine, called by the natives Sheikh et Teim, “the Chief, the Servant of God.” South of the Tell, the hillside is hollowed out with many tombs, most of which are choked up. One of these has a porch with two rude pilasters, and along the façade are over two hundred niches for lamps; the trailing boughs of the bushes above hang down picturesquely, and half cover the entrance. Within there are fifteen Kokim, or graves, and through the central one it is possible to creep into a second chamber, with only a single Koka. Other tombs exist farther east, one having a sculptured façade; but the tomb described is the one popularly supposed to be that of Joshua.

It seems to me very doubtful how far we can rely on the identity of the site with that of Timnath Heres. It is certain that this is the place called Timnatha by Jerome, a town of importance, capital of a district in the hills, and on the road from Lydda to Jerusalem, the position of which is fixed by references to surrounding towns. But the Jewish tradition, and also that of the modern Samaritans, points to Kefr Hâris as the burial-place of Joshua, as already noticed in Chapter II. It is remarkable, however, that a village called Kefr Ishw’a, or “Joshua’s hamlet,” exists in the immediate neighbourhood of the ruin of Tibneh.

With regard to Antipatris, we have fortunately far greater certainty; but the place is of less interest, being mentioned in the Bible only as the limit of St. Paul’s night journey from Jerusalem (Acts xxiii. 31). It was well known in the fourth century, but its site was lost to the Crusaders, who identified it at Arsûf, the ancient Apollonia, where also the more ignorant supposed Ashdod to have stood. It is only within the last twenty years that attention has been directed to the true site.

Josephus describes Antipatris as a city in the plain, close to the hills, in a position well watered, with a river encompassing the city, and with groves of trees. Now, as there is but one river in the plain of Sharon, anywhere, near the required part, and as there is on that river but one important ancient site, surrounded by water and near the hills, we can have little doubt as to the locality of the town, first apparently identified by the late Consul Finn, in 1850; but, in addition to this, we have, in the old itineraries, various measurements to surrounding places which, though not quite exact, still serve to indicate the same site. They are as follows:

R.M. R.M.

Antipatris to Galgula (_Kalkilia_) 6, measures 6½ Antipatris to Lydda 10, “ 11½ Antipatris to Betthar (_Tireh_) 10, “ 9¼ Antipatris to Cæsarea 28, “ 30½

These measurements on the Survey bring us to the Râs el ’Ain, a large mound covered with ruins, from the sides of which, on the north and west, the River ’Aujah (the Biblical Mejarkon, or “yellow water”) gushes forth, a full-sized stream.

A confusion has arisen between Antipatris and a town called Caphar Saba, in consequence of the loose description, given by Josephus, of a ditch dug by Alexander Balas, “from Cabarzaba, now called Antipatris,” to Joppa (Ant. xiii. 15, 1); but the same author afterwards explains that Caphar Saba was a district name, applied to the plain near Antipatris (Ant. xvi. 5, 2).

In the Talmud, the two towns, Antipatris and Caphar Saba, are both noticed in a manner which leaves little doubt that they were separate places. Of Antipatris, we learn that it was a town on the road from Judea to Galilee, the boundary of “the Land” on the side of Samaria; and, as I have noted above, the great boundary valley actually runs into the plain at this point. But while Antipatris was a Jewish city, Caphar Saba was in the district which was considered foreign ground, as within Samaritan territory; and an idolatrous tree existed there, perhaps now represented by the great sacred tree at Neby Serâkah, close to Kefr Sâba, five and a half miles north of Râs el ’Ain.

Antipatris, with two other places, Jishub and Patris, is mentioned as a station at the entrance to “the King’s Mountain,” as the Jews called the Judean hills. This agrees with its situation at the base of the hills, the other places being, perhaps, Sûfin and Budrus, in the same district.

The site thus fixed, by the Survey measurements, is one naturally better fitted for an important town than any in the district. The name has indeed vanished, being a Greek title derived from the name of Herod’s father, and always awkward to the mouths of the natives; but the stream, the mound of ruins, and the neighbouring hills, remain; the deep blue pools of fresh water well up close beneath the hillock, surrounded by tall canes and willows, rushes, and grass. A sort of ragged lawn extends some two hundred yards southwards, and westwards the stream flows rapidly away, burrowing between deep banks, and rolling to the sea, a yellow, turbid, sandy volume of water, unfordable in winter, and never dry, even in summer.

The ruins of Herod’s city are now covered with the shell of a great Crusading castle. The knights seem to have taken the name Mirr, or “Passage,” applied to a hamlet near the ford, and transformed it into Mirabel, by adding “bel,” a word which occurs in the names of several of their fortresses, such as Belfort, Belvoir, etc. The castle is flanked with round towers, and resembles that of Capernaum (near ’Athlît), on a larger scale. It was here that Manasseh, the cousin of Queen Melisinda, was besieged, in 1149, by Baldwin III., and obliged to capitulate. In 1191 Mirabel was dismantled by Saladin, on the approach of King Richard, in common with Plans, Capernaum, and many other castles; nor does it appear to have been subsequently restored.