CHAPTER XIV.

JERUSALEM.

"What is the matter here?" said Sir William, as he tried to make his way through an angry, excited crowd, who were screaming and gesticulating in the most alarming manner, as they clustered round a camel and a camel driver.

"Oh, nothing at all!" said Mr. Stanley, laughing, as he listened to what they were saying. "That man in the centre of the crowd is buying a load of charcoal, and he and the owner of the charcoal are disputing about a piastre, more or less, which in English money is about equal to twopence."

"But who are all these other people?" said Sir William. "They cannot all have an interest in this one load of charcoal."

"Oh no," said Mr. Stanley; "but they happened to be passing at the time, and they have stopped to give their opinion, some taking the part of the buyer and some of the seller, and all of them adding to the general confusion by shouting and swearing and yelling at the highest pitch of their voices."

We were glad to get out of the noisy crowd, and to descend a flight of steps in the narrow street.

"Do you mind coming in here for a minute?" said Mr. Stanley, as he stopped before a clean-looking building, and opened a small door in the wall.

We followed him into a large room, and there we saw a very interesting sight. All round the room were Jewesses, in their picturesque dresses, sitting on mats on the floor. They were busily engaged with various kinds of needlework; and an English lady was going about amongst them, superintending their work, and teaching them anything which they did not know. We were much interested in all she told us of these poor women—they are learning by degrees to make their wretched homes bright and comfortable, and to make garments for their husbands and children. Above all, they are learning to love the Word of God, which is read aloud to them as they work, and which is quite a new book to them, for these poor Jerusalem Jewesses know as little of their Old Testament Scriptures as they do of the New Testament. We gave them several orders for various kinds of lace, which they make most beautifully; and Sir William left a donation towards their savings bank, which is doing much good amongst these poor mothers, encouraging them to lay by part of the money which they earn, as a fund from which they can draw in times of sickness or distress.

Then we passed from that room into another part of the building, which is used as a girls' school for Jewish children; and it was indeed pleasant to see their bright happy faces, and to hear their intelligent answers to the questions put to them. Mr. Stanley told us afterwards that there is a good work being done in this mission school—for the children are carefully and prayerfully taught, and, as the mothers of the next generation, will undoubtedly pave the way for missionary effort among their nation. The lady who manages the school very kindly took us to see all the different classes, and we were especially interested in a large class of little Spanish Jewesses, natives of Jerusalem, who are being taught in their own language, and who are learning, little by little and step by step, to know and to love that Saviour whom their nation have rejected.

We left the school, hoping to visit it again another day, and were turning round a corner, when Mr. Stanley stopped us, and showed us some curious old stones in the wall of the street. The stones evidently formed part of an old archway; and Mr. Stanley told us that it was now thought to be the most ancient place in all Jerusalem, being supposed, by those who have studied the matter, to have been part of the old city of Jebus, where the Jebusites lived before David conquered them, and turned their old fortress of Jebus into Jerusalem, the City of David.

As we turned into the large bazaar in one of the principal streets in Jerusalem we had great difficulty in getting on, so narrow was the street, and so crowded with camels, donkeys, mules, and people standing before each of the curious little shops, bargaining with the shopman inside. We were making our way slowly down the street, when I heard a well-known voice behind us, saying:

"Miss Trafford! This is a surprise!"

Evelyn and I turned round, and I said involuntarily: "Claude! Where have you come from?"

He told us that he and Alice had been spending a month in Cairo, and had now come to see Palestine. "But there does not seem to be much to see here," he said; "it is a wretched place after Cairo!"

"How long have you been here, may I ask?" said Mr. Stanley.

"Just two days now," said Claude; "we think of moving on again to-morrow."

"Then you will excuse my saying that you have not begun to see Jerusalem yet," said Mr. Stanley, with the least possible touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Oh, I don't know!" said Claude. "It seems a stupid place. I can't think why so many people come here. But won't you come and see Alice?" he said, turning to Evelyn. "She will be delighted to see you."

"By the by, I met a friend of yours in Cairo, Miss Trafford," said Claude, as we walked in the direction of the Damascus Gate, near which their tents were pitched.

"A friend of mine!" said Evelyn, colouring. "Whom do you mean?"

She thought, and I thought too, that he must have met Donald Trafford; and Evelyn was considerably relieved by his answer.

"It was Lord Moreton; he was there with a party of his friends, staying in the same hotel that we were. They were going up the Nile. He told me that you were travelling in the East, but the East is a wide term, and I did not expect that we should meet."

"But why do you call Lord Moreton a friend of mine?" said Evelyn, laughing, though her father looked at her reprovingly.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Trafford," said Claude; "I thought he was a great friend of yours. I assure you, he talked so much of you and Sir William in the short time that we were together, that I thought—"

But Claude did not tell us what he thought, for we had to separate at that moment to let a string of laden camels pass by, and the conversation took another turn when we were able to walk together again.

Claude and his wife were travelling with a small party under the escort of a dragoman, and their tents were pitched in the olive grove just outside the northern gate of the city. Alice was very glad to see us, and she, Evelyn, and I had a long talk together as we sat in patriarchal fashion at our tent door, whilst the gentlemen paced about amongst the olive trees, talking to the dragoman, and referring to their guidebooks.

"Is it not strange to be in Jerusalem, Alice?" said Evelyn. "I feel as if I were dreaming."

"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, laughing. "I have not been much impressed by it. You see, we have become quite accustomed now to Eastern manners and customs—we saw plenty of them in Cairo; and as for the old ruins and buildings here, they are not nearly so ancient as the Pyramids. And there is really very little to be seen, after all, except by those people who believe the lies that are told them about the holy sepulchre, and the tomb of the Virgin, and the manger at Bethlehem. Why actually, in one street, in quite a new wall, our dragoman pointed out to us a stone which is believed to be the stone that 'would have cried out' if the children had held their peace! Such nonsense! I have no patience with it!" said Alice, scornfully.

"Oh yes," said Evelyn, "I quite agree with you about all those absurd tales. I would not walk a hundred yards to see one of those wonderful shrines; but, after all, this is Jerusalem, and it was here," she added in a lower voice, "that our Lord walked, and preached, and died, and was buried, and rose again!"

"Oh yes, of course," said Alice, carelessly, as if that fact was but of small importance to her.

"And if we really love Him," said Evelyn, "if He is dearer to us than any one else, don't you think we must look upon Jerusalem, and those places He lived in, with a very strange and wonderful feeling?"

Alice looked at Evelyn in astonishment; she had never heard her speak in that way before, and had no idea how much Evelyn was changed since she had seen her last. She made no answer, and I think would have turned the conversation to some other subject if Evelyn had not spoken first.

"You look surprised, Alice," she said; "you did not expect me to say that, did you?"

"No, indeed," said Alice, laughing; "I thought that both you and I were quite free from all sentimental nonsense. I am afraid Miss Lindsay has been talking you over to her way of thinking."

"Is it nonsense?" said Evelyn, gravely, passing over Alice's last words. "Because if it is not nonsense, surely it is a great reality!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, lightly; "Claude says the greater part of religion is nonsense, and I suppose he ought to know; he has studied the matter, and I have not."

"Oh, Alice," said Evelyn, with tears in her eyes, "if you only knew how very, very happy I have been lately! I never knew before that it was possible to be as happy as I am now!"

"That may be," said Alice, "and I am not happy. Sometimes I am miserable," she said, bitterly, with that grave, sad expression that I had seen on her face once before; "but still I cannot help agreeing with Claude, that it is better not to be comforted at all, than to get comfort out of a lie."

"Oh yes," I said, "Mr. Ellis is quite right in that; but the whole question turns on this: Is the Bible Satan's lie, or God's truth? It must surely be either the one or the other."

"Well," said Alice, lightly, "it is too hot to enter into a theological discussion. I will call the dragoman and get him to send us some lemonade: our cook makes it splendidly."

"Poor Alice!" said Evelyn, when we were left alone in the tent.

"Yes," I said, "she is very much to be pitied, for she is not comfortable in her unbelief; she has doubts even about her own doubting."

Alice came back to tell us that the gentlemen had planned a ride to the Mount of Olives, and the dragoman had gone to hire horses for the whole party, so that we might start together from the Damascus Gate as soon as it began to be a little cooler.

Meanwhile Mr. Stanley guided us to our hotel. We went back a different way, keeping outside the city, till we reached the Jaffa Gate. Sir William and I walked first, and Mr. Stanley and Evelyn followed; but as Sir William was reading his guidebook, which he kept open in his hand and consulted as he walked along, I had much time for thought, and once or twice I could not help overhearing the conversation which was going on behind me.

"So you know Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford?" I heard Mr. Stanley say.

"Yes; papa knows him very well, and he likes him very much," said Evelyn, laughing.

"And you do not?" said Mr. Stanley, gravely.

"Oh, I don't dislike him," said Evelyn; "only I think him very stupid and uninteresting."

I thought Sir William must have heard this remark; but if he heard it he took no notice of it, but appeared to be deep in his book.

"Lord Moreton stupid! Lord Moreton uninteresting!" repeated Mr. Stanley. "Then excuse my saying, Miss Trafford, that if that is your opinion, I am sure you do not know Lord Moreton: no one who really knew him would ever come to such a conclusion."

Mr. Stanley had spoken rather warmly, and Evelyn said in an apologetic tone: "I am very sorry, Mr. Stanley. I see Lord Moreton is a friend of yours; I did not know you knew him at all."

"Yes," he said, smiling, "we were college friends, and have been like brothers ever since. I think I may say that I know Lord Moreton better than any one else knows him, and the more I know him, so much the more I respect him and love him."

"He always seems to me to be so shy and awkward," said Evelyn.

"Yes, so he is with strangers," said Mr. Stanley; "he is a highly nervous man; it is his infirmity, and he knows it; but if he can only shake off his nervousness, he is quite another man. I wish you could have heard him address a meeting of undergraduates the other day, you would not have believed it was the same man."

"Addressing them! On what subject?" asked Evelyn, now more astonished than ever.

"Oh, about personal religion. Lord Moreton has a wonderful power with young men. He is not at all nervous when speaking to them. It is you ladies that make him so shy," said Mr. Stanley, laughing; "you are such formidable beings!"

"Well, I am surprised!" said Evelyn. "I could not have believed it, if you had not told me. And he is a real Christian? I am very glad to hear it."

"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "he is a man who lives very near to his God; and his one desire and aim is to bring all under his influence to the Saviour. Indeed," he added, in a lower voice, "if it had not been for Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford, I should have been to this day a man of the world; it was his words and his example which first made me decide for Christ."

I could hear no more, for we had reached the Jaffa Gate, and had passed into the noisy square in front of the Tower of David.

Whether Sir William had overheard the conversation I did not know. He looked very pleased and half amused as it was going on; but perhaps he may have been reading some interesting anecdote in his guidebook.

Mr. Stanley left us at the Tower of David, and we went to the hotel to rest until the evening.