A Ride Across Palestine
Circumstances took me to the Holy Land without a companion, andcompelled me to visit Bethany, the Mount of Olives, and the Churchof the Sepulchre alone. I acknowledge myself to be a gregariousanimal, or, perhaps, rather one of those which nature has intendedto go in pairs. At any rate I dislike solitude, and especiallytravelling solitude, and was, therefore, rather sad at heart as Isat one night at Z-'s hotel, in Jerusalem, thinking over my proposedwanderings for the next few days. Early on the following morning Iintended to start, of course on horseback, for the Dead Sea, thebanks of Jordan, Jericho, and those mountains of the wildernessthrough which it is supposed that Our Saviour wandered for the fortydays when the devil tempted him. I would then return to the HolyCity, and remaining only long enough to refresh my horse and wipethe dust from my hands and feet, I would start again for Jaffa, andthere catch a certain Austrian steamer which would take me to Egypt.Such was my programme, and I confess that I was but ill contentedwith it, seeing that I was to be alone during the time.I had already made all my arrangements, and though I had no reasonfor any doubt as to my personal security during the trip, I did notfeel altogether satisfied with them. I intended to take a Frenchguide, or dragoman, who had been with me for some days, and to putmyself under the peculiar guardianship of two Bedouin Arabs, whowere to accompany me as long as I should remain east of Jerusalem.This travelling through the desert under the protection of Bedouinswas, in idea, pleasant enough; and I must here declare that I didnot at all begrudge the forty shillings which I was told by ourBritish consul that I must pay them for their trouble, in accordancewith the established tariff. But I did begrudge the fact of thetariff. I would rather have fallen in with my friendly Arabs, as itwere by chance, and have rewarded their fidelity at the end of ourjoint journeyings by a donation of piastres to be settled by myself,and which, under such circumstances, would certainly have been asagreeable to them as the stipulated sum. In the same way I dislikehaving waiters put down in my bill. I find that I pay them twiceover, and thus lose money; and as they do not expect to be sotreated, I never have the advantage of their civility. The world, Ifear, is becoming too fond of tariffs."A tariff!" said I to the consul, feeling that the whole romance ofmy expedition would be dissipated by such an arrangement. "ThenI'll go alone; I'll take a revolver with me.""You can't do it, sir," said the consul, in a dry and somewhat angrytone. "You have no more right to ride through that country withoutpaying the regular price for protection, than you have to stop in Z's hotel without settling the bill."I could not contest the point, so I ordered my Bedouins for theappointed day, exactly as I would send for a ticket porter at home,and determined to make the best of it. The wild unlimited sands,the desolation of the Dead Sea, the rushing waters of Jordan, theoutlines of the mountains of Moab;--those things the consular tariffcould not alter, nor deprive them of the glories of theirassociation.I had submitted, and the arrangements had been made. Joseph, mydragoman, was to come to me with the horses and an Arab groom atfive in the morning, and we were to encounter our Bedouins outsidethe gate of St. Stephen, down the hill, where the road turns, closeto the tomb of the Virgin.I was sitting alone in the public room at the hotel, filling myflask with brandy,--for matters of primary importance I never leaveto servant, dragoman, or guide,--when the waiter entered, and saidthat a gentleman wished to speak with me. The gentleman had notsent in his card or name; but any gentleman was welcome to me in mysolitude, and I requested that the gentleman might enter. Inappearance the gentleman certainly was a gentleman, for I thoughtthat I had never before seen a young man whose looks were more inhis favour, or whose face and gait and outward bearing seemed tobetoken better breeding. He might be some twenty or twenty-oneyears of age, was slight and well made, with very black hair, whichhe wore rather long, very dark long bright eyes, a straight nose,and teeth that were perfectly white. He was dressed throughout ingrey tweed clothing, having coat, waistcoat, and trousers of thesame; and in his hand he carried a very broad brimmed straw hat."Mr. Jones, I believe," he said, as he bowed to me. Jones is a goodtravelling name, and, if the reader will allow me, I will callmyself Jones on the present occasion."Yes," I said, pausing with the brandy bottle in one hand, and theflask in the other. "That's my name; I'm Jones. Can I do anythingfor you, sir?""Why, yes, you can," said he. "My name is Smith,--John Smith.""Pray sit down, Mr. Smith," I said, pointing to a chair. "Will youdo anything in this way?" and I proposed to hand the bottle to him."As far as I can judge from a short stay, you won't find much likethat in Jerusalem."He declined the Cognac, however, and immediately began his story."I hear, Mr. Jones," said he, "that you are going to Moab tomorrow.""Well," I replied, "I don't know whether I shall cross the water.It's not very easy, I take it, at all times; but I shall certainlyget as far as Jordan. Can I do anything for you in those parts?"And then he explained to me what was the object of his visit. Hewas quite alone in Jerusalem, as I was myself; and was staying at H's hotel. He had heard that I was starting for the Dead Sea, andhad called to ask if I objected to his joining me. He had foundhimself, he said, very lonely; and as he had heard that I also wasalone, he had ventured to call and make his proposition. He seemedto be very bashful, and half ashamed of what he was doing; and whenhe had done speaking he declared himself conscious that he wasintruding, and expressed a hope that I would not hesitate to say soif his suggestion were from any cause disagreeable to me.As a rule I am rather shy of chance travelling English friends. Ithas so frequently happened to me that I have had to blush for theacquaintances whom I have selected, that I seldom indulge in anyclose intimacies of this kind. But, nevertheless, I was taken withJohn Smith, in spite of his name. There was so much about him thatwas pleasant, both to the eye and to the understanding! One meetsconstantly with men from contact with whom one revolts withoutknowing the cause of such dislike. The cut of their beard isdispleasing, or the mode in which they walk or speak. But, on theother hand, there are men who are attractive, and I must confessthat I was attracted by John Smith at first sight. I hesitated,however, for a minute; for there are sundry things of which itbehoves a traveller to think before he can join a companion for sucha journey as that which I was about to make. Could the young manrise early, and remain in the saddle for ten hours together? Couldhe live upon hard boiled eggs and brandy-and-water? Could he takehis chance of a tent under which to sleep, and make himself happywith the bare fact of being in the desert? He saw my hesitation,and attributed it to a cause which was not present in my mind at themoment, though the subject was one of the greatest importance whenstrangers consent to join themselves together for a time, and agreeto become no strangers on the spur of the moment."Of course I will take half the expense," said he, absolutelyblushing as he mentioned the matter."As to that there will be very little. You have your own horse, ofcourse?""Oh, yes.""My dragoman and groom-boy will do for both. But you'll have to payforty shillings to the Arabs! There's no getting over that. Theconsul won't even look after your dead body, if you get murdered,without going through that ceremony."Mr. Smith immediately produced his purse, which he tendered to me."If you will manage it all," said he, "it will make it so much theeasier, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you." This of course Ideclined to do. I had no business with his purse, and explained tohim that if we went together we could settle that on our return toJerusalem. "But could he go through really hard work?" I asked. Heanswered me with an assurance that he would and could do anything inthat way that it was possible for man to perform. As for eating anddrinking he cared nothing about it, and would undertake to be astirat any hour of the morning that might be named. As for sleepingaccommodation, he did not care if he kept his clothes on for a weektogether. He looked slight and weak; but he spoke so well, and thatwithout boasting, that I ultimately agreed to his proposal, and in afew minutes he took his leave of me, promising to be at Z-'s doorwith his horse at five o'clock on the following morning."I wish you'd allow me to leave my purse with you," he said again."I cannot think of it. There is no possible occasion for it," Isaid again. "If there is anything to pay, I'll ask you for it whenthe journey is over. That forty shillings you must fork out. It'sa law of the Medes and Persians.""I'd better give it you at once," he said again, offering me money.But I would not have it. It would be quite time enough for thatwhen the Arabs were leaving us."Because," he added, "strangers, I know, are sometimes suspiciousabout money; and I would not, for worlds, have you think that Iwould put you to expense." I assured him that I did not think so,and then the subject was dropped.He was, at any rate, up to his time, for when I came down on thefollowing morning I found him in the narrow street, the first onhorseback. Joseph, the Frenchman, was strapping on to a rough ponyour belongings, and was staring at Mr. Smith. My new friend,unfortunately, could not speak a word of French, and therefore I hadto explain to the dragoman how it had come to pass that our partywas to be enlarged."But the Bedouins will expect full pay for both," said he, alarmed.Men in that class, and especially Orientals, always think that everyarrangement of life, let it be made in what way it will, is madewith the intention of saving some expense, or cheating somebody outof some money. They do not understand that men can have any otherobject, and are ever on their guard lest the saving should be madeat their cost, or lest they should be the victims of the fraud."All right," said I."I shall be responsible, Monsieur," said the dragoman, piteously."It shall be all right," said I, again. "If that does not satisfyyou, you may remain behind.""If Monsieur says it is all right, of course it is so;" and then hecompleted his strapping. We took blankets with us, of which I hadto borrow two out of the hotel for my friend Smith, a small hamperof provisions, a sack containing forage for the horses, and a largeempty jar, so that we might supply ourselves with water when leavingthe neighbourhood of wells for any considerable time."I ought to have brought these things for myself," said Smith, quiteunhappy at finding that he had thrown on me the necessity ofcatering for him. But I laughed at him, saying that it was nothing;he should do as much for me another time. I am prepared to own thatI do not willingly rush upstairs and load myself with blankets outof strange rooms for men whom I do not know; nor, as a rule, do Imake all the Smiths of the world free of my canteen. But, withreference to this fellow I did feel more than ordinarily good-natured and unselfish. There was something in the tone of his voicewhich was satisfactory; and I should really have felt vexed hadanything occurred at the last moment to prevent his going with me.Let it be a rule with every man to carry an English saddle with himwhen travelling in the East. Of what material is formed the netherman of a Turk I have never been informed, but I am sure that it isnot flesh and blood. No flesh and blood,--simply flesh and blood,--could withstand the wear and tear of a Turkish saddle. This beingthe case, and the consequences being well known to me, I was grievedto find that Smith was not properly provided. He was seated on oneof those hard, red, high-pointed machines, in which the shovelsintended to act as stirrups are attached in such a manner, and hangat such an angle, as to be absolutely destructive to the leg of aChristian. There is no part of the Christian body with which theTurkish saddle comes in contact that does not become more or lessmacerated. I have sat in one for days, but I left it a flayed man;and, therefore, I was sorry for Smith.I explained this to him, taking hold of his leg by the calf to showhow the leather would chafe him; but it seemed to me that he did notquite like my interference. "Never mind," said he, twitching hisleg away, "I have ridden in this way before.""Then you must have suffered the very mischief?""Only a little, and I shall be used to it now. You will not hear mecomplain.""By heavens, you might have heard me complain a mile off when I cameto the end of a journey I once took. I roared like a bull when Ibegan to cool. Joseph, could you not get a European saddle for Mr.Smith?" But Joseph did not seem to like Mr. Smith, and declaredsuch a thing to be impossible. No European in Jerusalem would thinkof lending so precious an article, except to a very dear friend.Joseph himself was on an English saddle, and I made up my mind thatafter the first stage, we would bribe him to make an exchange. Andthen we started.The Bedouins were not with us, but we were to meet them, as I havesaid before, outside St. Stephen's gate. "And if they are notthere," said Joseph, "we shall be sure to come across them on theroad.""Not there!" said I. "How about the consul's tariff, if they don'tkeep their part of the engagement?" But Joseph explained to me thattheir part of the engagement really amounted to this,--that weshould ride into their country without molestation, provided thatsuch and such payments were made.It was the period of Easter, and Jerusalem was full of pilgrims.Even at that early hour of the morning we could hardly make our waythrough the narrow streets. It must be understood that there is noaccommodation in the town for the fourteen or fifteen thousandstrangers who flock to the Holy Sepulchre at this period of theyear. Many of them sleep out in the open air, lying on low bencheswhich run along the outside walls of the houses, or even on theground, wrapped in their thick hoods and cloaks. Slumberers such asthese are easily disturbed, nor are they detained long at theirtoilets. They shake themselves like dogs, and growl and stretchthemselves, and then they are ready for the day.We rode out of the town in a long file. First went the groom-boy; Iforget his proper Syrian appellation, but we used to call himMucherry, that sound being in some sort like the name. Thenfollowed the horse with the forage and blankets, and next to him myfriend Smith in the Turkish saddle. I was behind him, and Josephbrought up the rear. We moved slowly down the Via Dolorosa, notingthe spot at which our Saviour is said to have fallen while bearinghis cross; we passed by Pilate's house, and paused at the gate ofthe Temple,--the gate which once was beautiful,--looking down intothe hole of the pool in which the maimed and halt were healedwhenever the waters moved. What names they are! And yet there atJerusalem they are bandied to and fro with as little reverence asare the fanciful appellations given by guides to rocks and stonesand little lakes in all countries overrun by tourists."For those who would still fain believe,--let them stay at home,"said my friend Smith."For those who cannot divide the wheat from the chaff, let THEM stayat home," I answered. And then we rode out through St. Stephen'sgate, having the mountain of the men of Galilee directly before us,and the Mount of Olives a little to our right, and the Valley ofJehoshaphat lying between us and it. "Of course you know all theseplaces now?" said Smith. I answered that I did know them well."And was it not better for you when you knew them only in HolyWrit?" he asked."No, by Jove," said I. "The mountains stand where they ever stood.The same valleys are still green with the morning dew, and thewater-courses are unchanged. The children of Mahomet may buildtheir tawdry temple on the threshing-floor which David bought thatthere might stand the Lord's house. Man may undo what man did, eventhough the doer was Solomon. But here we have God's handiwork andHis own evidences."At the bottom of the steep descent from the city gate we came to thetomb of the Virgin; and by special agreement made with Joseph weleft our horses here for a few moments, in order that we mightdescend into the subterranean chapel under the tomb, in which masswas at this moment being said. There is something awful in thatchapel, when, as at the present moment, it is crowded with Easternworshippers from the very altar up to the top of the dark steps bywhich the descent is made. It must be remembered that Easternworshippers are not like the churchgoers of London, or even of Romeor Cologne. They are wild men of various nations and races,--Maronites from Lebanon Roumelians, Candiotes, Copts from UpperEgypt, Russians from the Crimea, Armenians and Abyssinians. Theysavour strongly of Oriental life and of Oriental dirt. They areclad in skins or hairy cloaks with huge hoods. Their heads areshaved, and their faces covered with short, grisly, fierce beards.They are silent mostly, looking out of their eyes ferociously, asthough murder were in their thoughts, and rapine. But they neverslouch, or cringe in their bodies, or shuffle in their gait. Dirty,fierce-looking, uncouth, repellent as they are, there is alwaysabout them a something of personal dignity which is not compatiblewith an Englishman's ordinary hat and pantaloons.As we were about to descend, preparing to make our way through thecrowd, Smith took hold of my arm. "That will never do, my dearfellow," said I, "the job will be tough enough for a single file,but we should never cut our way two and two. I'm broad-shoulderedand will go first." So I did, and gradually we worked our way intothe body of the chapel. How is it that Englishmen can pushthemselves anywhere? These men were fierce-looking, and had murderand rapine, as I have said, almost in their eyes. One would havesupposed that they were not lambs or doves, capable of being thrusthere or there without anger on their part; and they, too, were allanxious to descend and approach the altar. Yet we did win our waythrough them, and apparently no man was angry with us. I doubt,after all, whether a ferocious eye and a strong smell and dirt areso efficacious in creating awe and obedience in others, as an openbrow and traces of soap and water. I know this, at least,--that adirty Maronite would make very little progress, if he attempted toshove his way unfairly through a crowd of Englishmen at the door ofa London theatre. We did shove unfairly, and we did make progress,till we found ourselves in the centre of the dense crowd collectedin the body of the chapel.Having got so far, our next object was to get out again. The placewas dark, mysterious, and full of strange odours; but darkness,mystery, and strange odours soon lose their charms when men havemuch work before them. Joseph had made a point of being allowed toattend mass before the altar of the Virgin, but a very few minutessufficed for his prayers. So we again turned round and pushed ourway back again, Smith still following in my wake. The men who hadlet us pass once let us pass again without opposition or show ofanger. To them the occasion was very holy. They were stretchingout their hands in every direction, with long tapers, in order thatthey might obtain a spark of the sacred fire which was burning onone of the altars. As we made our way out we passed many who, withdumb motions, begged us to assist them in their object. And we didassist them, getting lights for their tapers, handing them to andfro, and using the authority with which we seemed to be invested.But Smith, I observed, was much more courteous in this way to thewomen than to the men, as I did not forget to remind him when wewere afterwards on our road together.Remounting our horses we rode slowly up the winding ascent of theMount of Olives, turning round at the brow of the hill to look backover Jerusalem. Sometimes I think that of all spots in the worldthis one should be the spot most cherished in the memory ofChristians. It was there that He stood when He wept over the city.So much we do know, though we are ignorant, and ever shall be so, ofthe site of His cross and of the tomb. And then we descended on theeastern side of the hill, passing through Bethany, the town ofLazarus and his sisters, and turned our faces steadily towards themountains of Moab.Hitherto we had met no Bedouins, and I interrogated my dragomanabout them more than once; but he always told me that it did notsignify; we should meet them, he said, before any danger couldarise. "As for danger," said I, "I think more of this than I do ofthe Arabs," and I put my hand on my revolver. "But as they agreedto be here, here they ought to be. Don't you carry a revolver,Smith?"Smith said that he never had done so, but that he would take thecharge of mine if I liked. To this, however, I demurred. "I neverpart with my pistol to any one," I said, rather drily. But heexplained that he only intended to signify that if there were dangerto be encountered, he would be glad to encounter it; and I fullybelieved him. "We shan't have much fighting," I replied; "but ifthere be any, the tool will come readiest to the hand of its master.But if you mean to remain here long I would advise you to get one.These Orientals are a people with whom appearances go a long way,and, as a rule, fear and respect mean the same thing with them. Apistol hanging over your loins is no great trouble to you, and looksas though you could bite. Many a dog goes through the world well bymerely showing his teeth."And then my companion began to talk of himself. "He did not," hesaid, "mean to remain in Syria very long.""Nor I either," said I. "I have done with this part of the worldfor the present, and shall take the next steamer from Jaffa forAlexandria. I shall only have one night in Jerusalem on my return."After this he remained silent for a few moments and then declaredthat that also had been his intention. He was almost ashamed to sayso, however, because it looked as though he had resolved to hookhimself on to me. So he answered, expressing almost regret at thecircumstance."Don't let that trouble you," said I; "I shall be delighted to haveyour company. When you know me better, as I hope you will do, youwill find that if such were not the case I should tell you so asfrankly. I shall remain in Cairo some little time; so that beyondour arrival in Egypt, I can answer for nothing."He said that he expected letters at Alexandria which would governhis future movements. I thought he seemed sad as he said so, andimagined, from his manner, that he did not expect very happytidings. Indeed I had made up my mind that he was by no means freefrom care or sorrow. He had not the air of a man who could say ofhimself that he was "totus teres atque rotundus." But I had no wishto inquire, and the matter would have dropped had he not himselfadded--"I fear that I shall meet acquaintances in Egypt whom it willgive me no pleasure to see.""Then," said I, "if I were you, I would go to Constantinopleinstead;--indeed, anywhere rather than fall among friends who arenot friendly. And the nearer the friend is, the more one feels thatsort of thing. To my way of thinking, there is nothing on earth sopleasant as a pleasant wife; but then, what is there so damnable asone that is unpleasant?""Are you a married man?" he inquired. All his questions were put ina low tone of voice which seemed to give to them an air of specialinterest, and made one almost feel that they were asked with somespecial view to one's individual welfare. Now the fact is, that Iam a married man with a family; but I am not much given to talk tostrangers about my domestic concerns, and, therefore, though I hadno particular object in view, I denied my obligations in thisrespect. "No," said I; "I have not come to that promotion yet. Iam too frequently on the move to write myself down asPaterfamilias.""Then you know nothing about that pleasantness of which you spokejust now?""Nor of the unpleasantness, thank God; my personal experiences areall to come,--as also are yours, I presume?"It was possible that he had hampered himself with some woman, andthat she was to meet him at Alexandria. Poor fellow! thought I.But his unhappiness was not of that kind. "No," said he; "I am notmarried; I am all alone in the world.""Then I certainly would not allow myself to be troubled byunpleasant acquaintances."It was now four hours since we had left Jerusalem, and we hadarrived at the place at which it was proposed that we shouldbreakfast. There was a large well there, and shade afforded by arock under which the water sprung; and the Arabs had constructed atank out of which the horses could drink, so that the place wasordinarily known as the first stage out of Jerusalem.Smith had said not a word about his saddle, or complained in any wayof discomfort, so that I had in truth forgotten the subject. Othermatters had continually presented themselves, and I had never evenasked him how he had fared. I now jumped from my horse, but Iperceived at once that he was unable to do so. He smiled faintly,as his eye caught mine, but I knew that he wanted assistance. "Ah,"said I, "that confounded Turkish saddle has already galled yourskin. I see how it is; I shall have to doctor you with a littlebrandy,--externally applied, my friend." But I lent him myshoulder, and with that assistance he got down, very gently andslowly.We ate our breakfast with a good will; bread and cold fowl andbrandy-and-water, with a hard-boiled egg by way of a final delicacy;and then I began to bargain with Joseph for the loan of his Englishsaddle. I saw that Smith could not get through the journey withthat monstrous Turkish affair, and that he would go on withoutcomplaining till he fainted or came to some other signal grief. Butthe Frenchman, seeing the plight in which we were, was disposed todrive a very hard bargain. He wanted forty shillings, the price ofa pair of live Bedouins, for the accommodation, and declared that,even then, he should make the sacrifice only out of consideration tome."Very well," said I. "I'm tolerably tough myself; and I'll changewith the gentleman. The chances are that I shall not be in a veryliberal humour when I reach Jaffa with stiff limbs and a sore skin.I have a very good memory, Joseph.""I'll take thirty shillings, Mr. Jones; though I shall have to groanall the way like a condemned devil."I struck a bargain with him at last for five-and-twenty, and set himto work to make the necessary change on the horses. "It will bejust the same thing to him," I said to Smith. "I find that he is asmuch used to one as to the other.""But how much money are you to pay him?" he asked. "Oh, nothing," Ireplied. "Give him a few piastres when you part with him at Jaffa."I do not know why I should have felt thus inclined to pay money outof my pocket for this Smith,--a man whom I had only seen for thefirst time on the preceding evening, and whose temperament was soessentially different from my own; but so I did. I would have donealmost anything in reason for his comfort; and yet he was amelancholy fellow, with good inward pluck as I believed, but withoutthat outward show of dash and hardihood which I confess I love tosee. "Pray tell him that I'll pay him for it," said he. "We'llmake that all right," I answered; and then we remounted,--notwithout some difficulty on his part. "You should have let me rub inthat brandy," I said. "You can't conceive how efficaciously I wouldhave done it." But he made me no answer.At noon we met a caravan of pilgrims coming up from Jordan. Theremight be some three or four hundred, but the number seemed to betreble that, from the loose and straggling line in which theyjourneyed. It was a very singular sight, as they moved slowly alongthe narrow path through the sand, coming out of a defile among thehills, which was perhaps a quarter of a mile in front of us, passingus as we stood still by the wayside, and then winding again out ofsight on the track over which we had come. Some rode on camels,--awhole family, in many cases, being perched on the same animal. Iobserved a very old man and a very old woman slung in panniers overa camel's back,--not such panniers as might be befitting such apurpose, but square baskets, so that the heads and heels of each ofthe old couple hung out of the rear and front. "Surely the journeywill be their death," I said to Joseph. "Yes it will," he replied,quite coolly; "but what matter how soon they die now that they havebathed in Jordan?" Very many rode on donkeys; two, generally, oneach donkey; others, who had command of money, on horses; but thegreater number walked, toiling painfully from Jerusalem to Jerichoon the first day, sleeping there in tents and going to bathe on thesecond day, and then returning from Jericho to Jerusalem on thethird. The pilgrimage is made throughout in accordance with fixedrules, and there is a tariff for the tent accommodation at Jericho,--so much per head per night, including the use of hot water.Standing there, close by the wayside, we could see not only thegarments and faces of these strange people, but we could watch theirgestures and form some opinion of what was going on within theirthoughts. They were much quieter,--tamer, as it were,--thanEnglishmen would be under such circumstances. Those who werecarried seemed to sit on their beasts in passive tranquillity,neither enjoying nor suffering anything. Their object had been towash in Jordan,--to do that once in their lives;--and they hadwashed in Jordan. The benefit expected was not to be immediatelyspiritual. No earnest prayerfulness was considered necessary afterthe ceremony. To these members of the Greek Christian Church it hadbeen handed down from father to son that washing in Jordan onceduring life was efficacious towards salvation. And therefore thejourney had been made at terrible cost and terrible risk; for thesepeople had come from afar, and were from their habits but littlecapable of long journeys. Many die under the toil; but this mattersnot if they do not die before they have reached Jordan. Some fewthere are, undoubtedly, more ecstatic in this great deed of theirreligion. One man I especially noticed on this day. He had boundhimself to make the pilgrimage from Jerusalem to the river with onefoot bare. He was of a better class, and was even nobly dressed, asthough it were a part of his vow to show to all men that he did thisdeed, wealthy and great though he was. He was a fine man, perhapsthirty years of age, with a well-grown beard descending on hisbreast, and at his girdle he carried a brace of pistols.But never in my life had I seen bodily pain so plainly written in aman's face. The sweat was falling from his brow, and his eyes werestrained and bloodshot with agony. He had no stick, his vow, Ipresume, debarring him from such assistance, and he limped along,putting to the ground the heel of the unprotected foot. I could seeit, and it was a mass of blood, and sores, and broken skin. AnIrish girl would walk from Jerusalem to Jericho without shoes, andbe not a penny the worse for it. This poor fellow clearly sufferedso much that I was almost inclined to think that in the performanceof his penance he had done something to aggravate his pain. Thosearound him paid no attention to him, and the dragoman seemed tothink nothing of the affair whatever. "Those fools of Greeks do notunderstand the Christian religion," he said, being himself a Latinor Roman Catholic.At the tail of the line we encountered two Bedouins, who were incharge of the caravan, and Joseph at once addressed them. The menwere mounted, one on a very sorry-looking jade, but the other on agood stout Arab barb. They had guns slung behind their backs,coloured handkerchiefs on their heads, and they wore the stripedbernouse. The parley went on for about ten minutes, during whichthe procession of pilgrims wound out of sight; and it ended in ourbeing accompanied by the two Arabs, who thus left their greatercharge to take care of itself back to the city. I understoodafterwards that they had endeavoured to persuade Joseph that wemight just as well go on alone, merely satisfying the demand of thetariff. But he had pointed out that I was a particular man, andthat under such circumstances the final settlement might bedoubtful. So they turned and accompanied us; but, as a matter offact, we should have been as well without them.The sun was beginning to fall in the heavens when we reached theactual margin of the Dead Sea. We had seen the glitter of its stillwaters for a long time previously, shining under the sun as thoughit were not real. We have often heard, and some of us have seen,how effects of light and shade together will produce so vivid anappearance of water where there is no water, as to deceive the mostexperienced. But the reverse was the case here. There was thelake, and there it had been before our eyes for the last two hours;and yet it looked, then and now, as though it were an image of alake, and not real water. I had long since made up my mind to bathein it, feeling well convinced that I could do so without harm tomyself, and I had been endeavouring to persuade Smith to accompanyme; but he positively refused. He would bathe, he said, neither inthe Dead Sea nor in the river Jordan. He did not like bathing, andpreferred to do his washing in his own room. Of course I hadnothing further to say, and begged that, under these circumstances,he would take charge of my purse and pistols while I was in thewater. This he agreed to do; but even in this he was strange andalmost uncivil. I was to bathe from the farthest point of a littleisland, into which there was a rough causeway from the land made ofstones and broken pieces of wood, and I exhorted him to go with methither; but he insisted on remaining with his horse on the mainlandat some little distance from the island. He did not feel inclinedto go down to the water's edge, he said.I confess that at this moment I almost suspected that he was goingto play me foul, and I hesitated. He saw in an instant what waspassing through my mind. "You had better take your pistol and moneywith you; they will be quite safe on your clothes." But to havekept the things now would have shown suspicion too plainly, and as Icould not bring myself to do that, I gave them up. I have sometimesthought that I was a fool to do so.I went away by myself to the end of the island, and then I didbathe. It is impossible to conceive anything more desolate than theappearance of the place. The land shelves very gradually away tothe water, and the whole margin, to the breadth of some twenty orthirty feet, is strewn with the debris of rushes, bits of timber,and old white withered reeds. Whence these bits of timber have comeit seems difficult to say. The appearance is as though the waterhad receded and left them there. I have heard it said that there isno vegetation near the Dead Sea; but such is not the case, for theserushes do grow on the bank. I found it difficult enough to get intothe water, for the ground shelves down very slowly, and is roughwith stones and large pieces of half-rotten wood; moreover, when Iwas in nearly up to my hips the water knocked me down; indeed, itdid so when I had gone as far as my knees, but I recovered myself;and by perseverance did proceed somewhat farther. It must not beimagined that this knocking down was effected by the movement of thewater. There is no such movement. Everything is perfectly still,and the fluid seems hardly to be displaced by the entrance of thebody; but the effect is that one's feet are tripped up, and that onefalls prostrate on to the surface. The water is so strong andbuoyant, that, when above a few feet in depth has to be encountered,the strength and weight of the bather are not sufficient to keepdown his feet and legs. I then essayed to swim; but I could not dothis in the ordinary way, as I was unable to keep enough of my bodybelow the surface; so that my head and face seemed to be propelleddown upon it.I turned round and floated, but the glare of the sun was so powerfulthat I could not remain long in that position. However, I hadbathed in the Dead Sea, and was so far satisfied.Anything more abominable to the palate than this water, if it bewater, I never had inside my mouth. I expected it to be extremelysalt, and no doubt, if it were analysed, such would be the result;but there is a flavour in it which kills the salt. No attempt canbe made at describing this taste. It may be imagined that I did notdrink heartily, merely taking up a drop or two with my tongue fromthe palm of my hand; but it seemed to me as though I had beendrenched with it. Even brandy would not relieve me from it. Andthen my whole body was in a mess, and I felt as though I had beenrubbed with pitch. Looking at my limbs, I saw no sign on them ofthe fluid. They seemed to dry from this as they usually do from anyother water; but still the feeling remained. However, I was to ridefrom hence to a spot on the banks of Jordan, which I should reach inan hour, and at which I would wash; so I clothed myself, andprepared for my departure.Seated in my position in the island I was unable to see what wasgoing on among the remainder of the party, and therefore could nottell whether my pistols and money was safe. I dressed, therefore,rather hurriedly, and on getting again to the shore, found that Mr.John Smith had not levanted. He was seated on his horse at somedistance from Joseph and the Arabs, and had no appearance of beingin league with those, no doubt, worthy guides. I certainly hadsuspected a ruse, and now was angry with myself that I had done so;and yet, in London, one would not trust one's money to a strangerwhom one had met twenty-four hours since in a coffee-room! Why,then, do it with a stranger whom one chanced to meet in a desert?"Thanks," I said, as he handed me my belongings. "I wish I couldhave induced you to come in also. The Dead Sea is now at yourelbow, and, therefore, you think nothing of it; but in ten orfifteen years' time, you would be glad to be able to tell yourchildren that you had bathed in it.""I shall never have any children to care for such tidings," hereplied.The river Jordan, for some miles above the point at which it joinsthe Dead Sea, runs through very steep banks,--banks which are almostprecipitous,--and is, as it were, guarded by the thick trees andbushes which grow upon its sides. This is so much the case, thatone may ride, as we did, for a considerable distance along themargin, and not be able even to approach the water. I had a fancyfor bathing in some spot of my own selection, instead of going tothe open shore frequented by all the pilgrims; but I was baffled inthis. When I did force my way down to the river side, I found thatthe water ran so rapidly, and that the bushes and boughs of treesgrew so far over and into the stream, as to make it impossible forme to bathe. I could not have got in without my clothes, and havinggot in, I could not have got out again. I was, therefore obliged toput up with the open muddy shore to which the bathers descend, andat which we may presume that Joshua passed when he came over as oneof the twelve spies to spy out the land. And even here I could notgo full into the stream as I would fain have done, lest I should becarried down, and so have assisted to whiten the shores of the DeadSea with my bones. As to getting over to the Moabitish side of theriver, that was plainly impossible; and, indeed, it seemed to be theprevailing opinion that the passage of the river was not practicablewithout going up as far as Samaria. And yet we know that there, orthereabouts, the Israelites did cross it.I jumped from my horse the moment I got to the place, and once moregave my purse and pistols to my friend. "You are going to batheagain?" he said. "Certainly," said I; "you don't suppose that Iwould come to Jordan and not wash there, even if I were not foulwith the foulness of the Dead Sea!" "You'll kill yourself, in yourpresent state of heat;" he said, remonstrating just as one's motheror wife might do. But even had it been my mother or wife I couldnot have attended to such remonstrance then; and before he had donelooking at me with those big eyes of his, my coat and waistcoat andcravat were on the ground, and I was at work at my braces; whereuponhe turned from me slowly, and strolled away into the wood. On thisoccasion I had no base fears about my money.And then I did bathe,--very uncomfortably. The shore was muddy withthe feet of the pilgrims, and the river so rapid that I hardly daredto get beyond the mud. I did manage to take a plunge in, head-foremost, but I was forced to wade out through the dirt and slush,so that I found it difficult to make my feet and legs clean enoughfor my shoes and stockings; and then, moreover, the flies plagued memost unmercifully. I should have thought that the filthy flavourfrom the Dead Sea would have saved me from that nuisance; but themosquitoes thereabouts are probably used to it. Finding thisprocess of bathing to be so difficult, I inquired as to the practiceof the pilgrims. I found that with them, bathing in Jordan has cometo be much the same as baptism has with us. It does not meanimmersion. No doubt they do take off their shoes and stockings; butthey do not strip, and go bodily into the water.As soon as I was dressed I found that Smith was again at my sidewith purse and pistols. We then went up a little above the wood,and sat down together on the long sandy grass. It was now quiteevening, so that the short Syrian twilight had commenced, and thesun was no longer hot in the heavens. It would be night as we rodeon to the tents at Jericho; but there was no difficulty as to theway, and therefore we did not hurry the horses, who were feeding onthe grass. We sat down together on a spot from which we could seethe stream,--close together, so that when I stretched myself out inmy weariness, as I did before we started, my head rested on hislegs. Ah, me! one does not take such liberties with new friends inEngland. It was a place which led one on to some special thoughts.The mountains of Moab were before us, very plain in their outline."Moab is my wash-pot, and over Edom will I cast out my shoe!" Therethey were before us, very visible to the eye, and we began naturallyto ask questions of each other. Why was Moab the wash-pot, and Edomthus cursed with indignity? Why had the right bank of the riverbeen selected for such great purposes, whereas the left was thuscondemned? Was there, at that time, any special fertility in thisland of promise which has since departed from it? We are told of abunch of grapes which took two men to carry it; but now there is nota vine in the whole country side. Now-a-days the sandy plain roundJericho is as dry and arid as are any of the valleys of Moab. TheJordan was running beneath our feet,--the Jordan in which theleprous king had washed, though the bright rivers of his ownDamascus were so much nearer to his hand. It was but a humblestream to which he was sent; but the spot probably was higher up,above the Sea of Galilee, where the river is narrow. But anotheralso had come down to this river, perhaps to this very spot on itsshores, and submitted Himself to its waters;--as to whom, perhaps,it will be better that I should not speak much in this light story.The Dead Sea was on our right, still glittering in the distance, andbehind us lay the plains of Jericho and the wretched collection ofhuts which still bears the name of the ancient city. Beyond that,but still seemingly within easy distance of us, were the mountainsof the wilderness. The wilderness! In truth, the spot was onewhich did lead to many thoughts.We talked of these things, as to many of which I found that myfriend was much more free in his doubts and questionings thanmyself; and then our words came back to ourselves, the naturalcentre of all men's-thoughts and words. "From what you say," Isaid, "I gather that you have had enough of this land?""Quite enough," he said. "Why seek such spots as these, if theyonly dispel the associations and veneration of one's childhood?""But with me such associations and veneration are riveted thestronger by seeing the places, and putting my hand upon the spots.I do not speak of that fictitious marble slab up there; but here,among the sandhills by this river, and at the Mount of Olives overwhich we passed, I do believe."He paused a moment, and then replied: "To me it is all nothing,--absolutely nothing. But then do we not know that our thoughts areformed, and our beliefs modelled, not on the outward signs orintrinsic evidences of things,--as would be the case were we alwaysrational,--but by the inner workings of the mind itself? At thepresent turn of my life I can believe in nothing that is gracious.""Ah, you mean that you are unhappy. You have come to grief in someof your doings or belongings, and therefore find that all things arebitter to the taste. I have had my palate out of order too; but theproper appreciation of flavours has come back to me. Bah,--hownoisome was that Dead Sea water!""The Dead Sea waters are noisome," he said; "and I have beendrinking of them by long draughts.""Long draughts!" I answered, thinking to console him. "Draughtshave not been long which can have been swallowed in your years.Your disease may be acute, but it cannot yet have become chronic. Aman always thinks at the moment of each misfortune that that specialmisery will last his lifetime; but God is too good for that. I donot know what ails you; but this day twelvemonth will see you againas sound as a roach."We then sat silent for a while, during which I was puffing at acigar. Smith, among his accomplishments, did not reckon that ofsmoking,--which was a grief to me; for a man enjoys the tobaccodoubly when another is enjoying it with him."No, you do not know what ails me," he said at last, "and,therefore, cannot judge.""Perhaps not, my dear fellow. But my experience tells me that earlywounds are generally capable of cure; and, therefore, I surmise thatyours may be so. The heart at your time of life is not worn out,and has strength and soundness left wherewith to throw off itsmaladies. I hope it may be so with you.""God knows. I do not mean to say that there are none more to bepitied than I am; but at the present moment, I am not--not light-hearted.""I wish I could ease your burden, my dear fellow.""It is most preposterous in me thus to force myself upon you, andthen trouble you with my cares. But I had been alone so long, and Iwas so weary of it!""By Jove, and so had I. Make no apology. And let me tell youthis,--though perhaps you will not credit me,--that I would soonerlaugh with a comrade than cry with him is true enough; but, ifoccasion demands, I can do the latter also."He then put out his hand to me, and I pressed it in token of myfriendship. My own hand was hot and rough with the heat and sand;but his was soft and cool almost as a woman's. I thoroughly hate aneffeminate man; but, in spite of a certain womanly softness aboutthis fellow, I could not hate him. "Yes," I continued, "thoughsomewhat unused to the melting mood, I also sometimes give forth mymedicinal gums. I don't want to ask you any questions, and, as arule, I hate to be told secrets, but if I can be of any service toyou in any matter I will do my best. I don't say this withreference to the present moment, but think of it before we part."I looked round at him and saw that he was in tears. "I know thatyou will think that I am a weak fool," he said, pressing hishandkerchief to his eyes."By no means. There are moments in a man's life when it becomes himto weep like a woman; but the older he grows the more seldom thosemoments come to him. As far as I can see of men, they never cry atthat which disgraces them.""It is left for women to do that," he answered."Oh, women! A woman cries for everything and for nothing. It isthe sharpest arrow she has in her quiver,--the best card in herhand. When a woman cries, what can you do but give her all she asksfor?""Do you--dislike women?""No, by Jove! I am never really happy unless one is near me, ormore than one. A man, as a rule, has an amount of energy within himwhich he cannot turn to profit on himself alone. It is good for himto have a woman by him that he may work for her, and thus haveexercise for his limbs and faculties. I am very fond of women. ButI always like those best who are most helpless."We were silent again for a while, and it was during this time that Ifound myself lying with my head in his lap. I had slept, but itcould have been but for a few minutes, and when I woke I found hishand upon my brow. As I started up he said that the flies had beenannoying me, and that he had not chosen to waken me as I seemedweary. "It has been that double bathing," I said, apologetically;for I always feel ashamed when I am detected sleeping in the day."In hot weather the water does make one drowsy. By Jove, it'sgetting dark; we had better have the horses.""Stay half a moment," he said, speaking very softly, and laying hishand upon my arm, "I will not detain you a minute.""There is no hurry in life," I said."You promised me just now you would assist me.""If it be in my power, I will.""Before we part at Alexandria I will endeavour to tell you the storyof my troubles, and then if you can aid me--" It struck me as hepaused that I had made a rash promise, but nevertheless I must standby it now--with one or two provisoes. The chances were that theyoung man was short of money, or else that he had got into a scrapeabout a girl. In either ease I might give him some slightassistance; but, then, it behoved me to make him understand that Iwould not consent to become a participator in mischief. I was tooold to get my head willingly into a scrape, and this I mustendeavour to make him understand."I will, if it be in my power," I said. "I will ask no questionsnow; but if your trouble be about some lady--""It is not," said he."Well; so be it. Of all troubles those are the most troublesome.If you are short of cash--""No, I am not short of cash.""You are not. That's well too; for want of money is a sore troublealso." And then I paused before I came to the point. "I do notsuspect anything bad of you, Smith. Had I done so, I should nothave spoken as I have done. And if there be nothing bad--""There is nothing disgraceful," he said."That is just what I mean; and in that case I will do anything foryou that may be within my power. Now let us look for Joseph and themucherry-boy, for it is time that we were at Jericho."I cannot describe at length the whole of our journey from thence toour tents at Jericho, nor back to Jerusalem, nor even from Jerusalemto Jaffa. At Jericho we did sleep in tents, paying so much pernight, according to the tariff. We wandered out at night, and drankcoffee with a family of Arabs in the desert, sitting in a ring roundtheir coffee-kettle. And we saw a Turkish soldier punished with thebastinado,--a sight which did not do me any good, and which madeSmith very sick. Indeed after the first blow he walked away.Jericho is a remarkable spot in that pilgrim week, and I wish I hadspace to describe it. But I have not, for I must hurry on, back toJerusalem and thence to Jaffa. I had much to tell also of thoseBedouins; how they were essentially true to us, but teased us almostto frenzy by their continual begging. They begged for our food andour drink, for our cigars and our gunpowder, for the clothes off ourbacks, and the handkerchiefs out of our pockets. As to gunpowder Ihad none to give them, for my charges were all made up incartridges; and I learned that the guns behind their backs were amere pretence, for they had not a grain of powder among them.We slept one night in Jerusalem, and started early on the followingmorning. Smith came to my hotel so that we might be ready togetherfor the move. We still carried with us Joseph and the mucherry-boy;but for our Bedouins, who had duly received their forty shillings apiece, we had no further use. On our road down to Jerusalem we hadmuch chat together, but only one adventure. Those pilgrims, of whomI have spoken, journey to Jerusalem in the greatest number by theroute which we were now taking from it, and they come in longdroves, reaching Jaffa in crowds by the French and Austrian steamersfrom Smyrna, Damascus, and Constantinople. As their number conferssecurity in that somewhat insecure country, many travellers from thewest of Europe make arrangements to travel with them. On our waydown we met the last of these caravans for the year, and we werepassing it for more than two hours. On this occasion I rode first,and Smith was immediately behind me; but of a sudden I observed himto wheel his horse round, and to clamber downwards among bushes andstones towards a river that ran below us. "Hallo, Smith," I cried,"you will destroy your horse, and yourself too." But he would notanswer me, and all I could do was to draw up in the path and wait.My confusion was made the worse, as at that moment a long string ofpilgrims was passing by. "Good morning, sir," said an old man to mein good English. I looked up as I answered him, and saw a grey-haired gentleman, of very solemn and sad aspect. He might beseventy years of age, and I could see that he was attended by threeor four servants. I shall never forget the severe and sorrowfulexpression of his eyes, over which his heavy eyebrows hung low."Are there many English in Jerusalem?" he asked. "A good many," Ireplied; "there always are at Easter." "Can you tell me anything ofany of them?" he asked. "Not a word," said I, for I knew no one;"but our consul can." And then we bowed to each other and he passedon.I got off my horse and scrambled down on foot after Smith. I foundhim gathering berries and bushes as though his very soul were madwith botany; but as I had seen nothing of this in him before, Iasked what strange freak had taken him."You were talking to that old man," he said."Well, yes, I was.""That is the relation of whom I have spoken to you.""The d- he is!""And I would avoid him, if it be possible."I then learned that the old gentleman was his uncle. He had noliving father or mother, and he now supposed that his relative wasgoing to Jerusalem in quest of him. "If so," said I, "you willundoubtedly give him leg bail, unless the Austrian boat is more thanordinarily late. It is as much as we shall do to catch it, and youmay be half over Africa, or far gone on your way to India, before hecan be on your track again.""I will tell you all about it at Alexandria," he replied; and thenhe scrambled up again with his horse, and we went on. That night weslept at the Armenian convent at Ramlath, or Ramath. This place issupposed to stand on the site of Arimathea, and is marked as such inmany of the maps. The monks at this time of the year are very busy,as the pilgrims all stay here for one night on their routesbackwards and forwards, and the place on such occasions is terriblycrowded. On the night of our visit it was nearly empty, as acaravan had left it that morning; and thus we were indulged withseparate cells, a point on which my companion seemed to layconsiderable stress.On the following day, at about noon, we entered Jaffa, and put up atan inn there which is kept by a Pole. The boat from Beyrout, whichtouches at Jaffa on its way to Alexandria, was not yet in, nor evensighted; we were therefore amply in time. "Shall we sail to-night?"I asked of the agent. "Yes, in all probability," he replied. "Ifthe signal be seen before three we shall do so. If not, then not;"and so I returned to the hotel.Smith had involuntarily shown signs of fatigue during the journey,but yet he had borne up well against it. I had never felt called onto grant any extra indulgence as to time because the work was toomuch for him. But now he was a good deal knocked up, and I was alittle frightened fearing that I had over-driven him under the heatof the sun. I was alarmed lest he should have fever, and proposedto send for the Jaffa doctor. But this he utterly refused. Hewould shut himself for an hour or two in his room, he said, and bythat time he trusted the boat would be in sight. It was clear to methat he was very anxious on the subject, fearing that his unclewould be back upon his heels before he had started.I ordered a serious breakfast for myself, for with me, on suchoccasions, my appetite demands more immediate attention than mylimbs. I also acknowledge that I become fatigued, and can laymyself at length during such idle days and sleep from hour to hour;but the desire to do so never comes till I have well eaten anddrunken. A bottle of French wine, three or four cutlets of goats'flesh, an omelet made out of the freshest eggs, and an enormous dishof oranges, was the banquet set before me; and though I might havefound fault with it in Paris or London, I thought that it did wellenough in Jaffa. My poor friend could not join me, but had a cup ofcoffee in his room. "At any rate take a little brandy in it," Isaid to him, as I stood over his bed. "I could not swallow it,"said he, looking at me with almost beseeching eyes. "Beshrew thefellow," I said to myself as I left him, carefully closing the door,so that the sound should not shake him; "he is little better than awoman, and yet I have become as fond of him as though he were mybrother."I went out at three, but up to that time the boat had not beensignalled. "And we shall not get out to-night?" "No, not to-night," said the agent. "And what time to-morrow?" "If she comesin this evening, you will start by daylight. But they so manage herdeparture from Beyrout, that she seldom is here in the evening.""It will be noon to-morrow then?" "Yes," the man said, "noon to-morrow." I calculated, however, that the old gentleman could notpossibly be on our track by that time. He would not have reachedJerusalem till late in the day on which we saw him, and it wouldtake him some time to obtain tidings of his nephew. But it might bepossible that messengers sent by him should reach Jaffa by four orfive on the day after his arrival. That would be this very daywhich we were now wasting at Jaffa. Having thus made mycalculations, I returned to Smith to give him such consolation as itmight be in my power to afford.He seemed to be dreadfully afflicted by all this. "He will havetraced me to Jerusalem, and then again away; and will follow meimmediately.""That is all very well," I said; "but let even a young man do thebest he can, and he will not get from Jerusalem to Jaffa in lessthan twelve hours. Your uncle is not a young man, and could notpossibly do the journey under two days.""But he will send. He will not mind what money he spends.""And if he does send, take off your hat to his messengers, and bidthem carry your complaints back. You are not a felon whom he canarrest.""No, he cannot arrest me; but, ah! you do not understand;" and thenhe sat up on the bed, and seemed as though he were going to wringhis hands in despair.I waited for some half hour in his room, thinking that he would tellme this story of his. If he required that I should give him my aidin the presence either of his uncle or of his uncle's myrmidons, Imust at any rate know what was likely to be the dispute betweenthem. But as he said nothing I suggested that he should stroll outwith me among the orange-groves by which the town is surrounded. Inanswer to this he looked up piteously into my face as though beggingme to be merciful to him. "You are strong," said he, "and cannotunderstand what it is to feel fatigue as I do." And yet he haddeclared on commencing his journey that he would not be found tocomplain? Nor had he complained by a single word till after thatencounter with his uncle. Nay, he had borne up well till this newshad reached us of the boat being late. I felt convinced that if theboat were at this moment lying in the harbour all that appearance ofexcessive weakness would soon vanish. What it was that he feared Icould not guess; but it was manifest to me that some great terroralmost overwhelmed him."My idea is," said I, and I suppose that I spoke with something lessof good-nature in my tone than I had assumed for the last day ortwo, "that no man should, under any circumstances, be so afraid ofanother man, as to tremble at his presence,--either at his presenceor his expected presence.""Ah, now you are angry with me; now you despise me!""Neither the one nor the other. But if I may take the liberty of afriend with you, I should advise you to combat this feeling ofhorror. If you do not, it will unman you. After all, what can youruncle do to you? He cannot rob you of your heart and soul. Hecannot touch your inner self.""You do not know," he said."Ah but, Smith, I do know that. Whatever may be this quarrelbetween you and him, you should not tremble at the thought of him;unless indeed--""Unless what?""Unless you had done aught that should make you tremble before everyhonest man." I own I had begun to have my doubts of him, and tofear that he had absolutely disgraced himself. Even in such caseI,--I individually,--did not wish to be severe on him; but I shouldbe annoyed to find that I had opened my heart to a swindler or apractised knave."I will tell you all to-morrow," said he; "but I have been guilty ofnothing of that sort."In the evening he did come out, and sat with me as I smoked mycigar. The boat, he was told, would almost undoubtedly come in bydaybreak on the following morning, and be off at nine; whereas itwas very improbable that any arrival from Jerusalem would be soearly as that. "Beside," I reminded him, "your uncle will hardlyhurry down to Jaffa, because he will have no reason to think butwhat you have already started. There are no telegraphs here, youknow."In the evening he was still very sad, though the paroxysm of histerror seemed to have passed away. I would not bother him, as hehad himself chosen the following morning for the telling of hisstory. So I sat and smoked, and talked to him about our pastjourney, and by degrees the power of speech came back to him, and Iagain felt that I loved him! Yes, loved him! I have not taken manysuch fancies into my head, at so short a notice; but I did love him,as though he were a younger brother. I felt a delight in servinghim, and though I was almost old enough to be his father, Iministered to him as though he had been an old man, or a woman.On the following morning we were stirring at daybreak, and foundthat the vessel was in sight. She would be in the roads off thetown in two hours' time, they said, and would start at eleven ortwelve. And then we walked round by the gate of the town, andsauntered a quarter of a mile or so along the way that leads towardsJerusalem. I could see that his eye was anxiously turned down theroad, but he said nothing. We saw no cloud of dust, and then wereturned to breakfast."The steamer has come to anchor," said our dirty Polish host to usin execrable English. "And we may be off on board," said Smith."Not yet," he said; "they must put their cargo out first." I saw,however, that Smith was uneasy, and I made up my mind to go off tothe vessel at once. When they should see an English portmanteaumaking an offer to come up the gangway, the Austrian sailors wouldnot stop it. So I called for the bill, and ordered that the thingsshould be taken down to the wretched broken heap of rotten timberwhich they called a quay. Smith had not told me his story, but nodoubt he would as soon as he was on board.I was in the act of squabbling with the Pole over the last demandfor piastres, when we heard a noise in the gateway of the inn, and Isaw Smith's countenance become pale. It was an Englishman's voiceasking if there were any strangers there; so I went into thecourtyard, closing the door behind me, and turning the key upon thelandlord and Smith. "Smith," said I to myself, "will keep the Polequiet if he have any wit left."The man who had asked the question had the air of an upper Englishservant, and I thought that I recognised one of those whom I hadseen with the old gentleman on the road; but the matter was soon putat rest by the appearance of that gentleman himself. He walked upinto the courtyard, looked hard at me from under those bushyeyebrows, just raised his hat, and then--said, "I believe I amspeaking to Mr. Jones.""Yes," said I, "I am Mr. Jones. Can I have the honour of servingyou?"There was something peculiarly unpleasant about this man's face. Atthe present moment I examined it closely, and could understand thegreat aversion which his nephew felt towards him. He looked like agentleman and like a man of talent, nor was there anything ofmeanness in his face; neither was he ill-looking, in the usualacceptation of the word; but one could see that he was solemn,austere, and overbearing; that he would be incapable of any lightenjoyment, and unforgiving towards all offences. I took him to be aman who, being old himself, could never remember that he had beenyoung, and who, therefore, hated the levities of youth. To me sucha character is specially odious; for I would fain, if it bepossible, be young even to my grave. Smith, if he were clever,might escape from the window of the room, which opened out upon aterrace, and still get down to the steamer. I would keep the oldman in play for some time; and, even though I lost my passage, wouldbe true to my friend. There lay our joint luggage at my feet in theyard. If Smith would venture away without his portion of it, allmight yet be right."My name, sir, is Sir William Weston," he began. I had heard of thename before, and knew him to be a man of wealth, and family, andnote. I took off my hat, and said that I had much honour in meetingSir William Weston."And I presume you know the object with which I am now here," hecontinued."Not exactly," said I. "Nor do I understand how I possibly shouldknow it, seeing that, up to this moment, I did not even know yourname, and have heard nothing concerning either your movements oryour affairs.""Sir," said he, "I have hitherto believed that I might at any rateexpect from you the truth.""Sir," said I, "I am bold to think that you will not dare to tellme, either now, or at any other time, that you have received, orexpect to receive, from me anything that is not true."He then stood still, looking at me for a moment or two, and I beg toassert that I looked as fully at him. There was, at any rate, nocause why I should tremble before him. I was not his nephew, norwas I responsible for his nephew's doings towards him. Two of hisservants were behind him, and on my side there stood a boy and girlbelonging to the inn. They, however, could not understand a word ofEnglish. I saw that he was hesitating, but at last he spoke out. Iconfess, now, that his words, when they were spoken, did, at thefirst moment, make me tremble."I have to charge you," said he, "with eloping with my niece, and Idemand of you to inform me where she is. You are perfectly awarethat I am her guardian by law."I did tremble;--not that I cared much for Sir William'sguardianship, but I saw before me so terrible an embarrassment! Andthen I felt so thoroughly abashed in that I had allowed myself to beso deceived! It all came back upon me in a moment, and covered mewith a shame that even made me blush. I had travelled through thedesert with a woman for days, and had not discovered her, though shehad given me a thousand signs. All those signs I remembered now,and I blushed pain fully. When her hand was on my forehead I stillthought that she was a man! I declare that at this moment I felt astronger disinclination to face my late companion than I did toencounter her angry uncle."Your niece!" I said, speaking with a sheepish bewilderment whichshould have convinced him at once of my innocence. She had askedme, too, whether I was a married man, and I had denied it. How wasI to escape from such a mess of misfortunes? I declare that I beganto forget her troubles in my own."Yes, my niece,--Miss Julia Weston. The disgrace which you havebrought upon me must be wiped out; but my first duty is to save thatunfortunate young woman from further misery.""If it be as you say," I exclaimed, "by the honour of a gentleman--""I care nothing for the honour of a gentleman till I see it proved.Be good enough to inform me, sir, whether Miss Weston is in thishouse."For a moment I hesitated; but I saw at once that I should makemyself responsible for certain mischief, of which I was at any ratehitherto in truth innocent, if I allowed myself to become a party toconcealing a young lady. Up to this period I could at any ratedefend myself, whether my defence were believed or not believed. Istill had a hope that the charming Julia might have escaped throughthe window, and a feeling that if she had done so I was notresponsible. When I turned the lock I turned it on Smith.For a moment I hesitated, and then walked slowly across the yard andopened the door. "Sir William," I said, as I did so, "I travelledhere with a companion dressed as a man; and I believed him to bewhat he seemed till this minute.""Sir!" said Sir William, with a look of scorn in his face which gaveme the lie in my teeth as plainly as any words could do. And thenhe entered the room. The Pole was standing in one corner,apparently amazed at what was going on, and Smith,--I may as wellcall her Miss Weston at once, for the baronet's statement was true,--was sitting on a sort of divan in the corner of the chamber hidingher face in her hands. She had made no attempt at an escape, and afull explanation was therefore indispensable. For myself I own thatI felt ashamed of my part in the play,--ashamed even of my owninnocency. Had I been less innocent I should certainly havecontrived to appear much less guilty. Had it occurred to me on thebanks of the Jordan that Smith was a lady, I should not havetravelled with her in her gentleman's habiliments from Jerusalem toJaffa. Had she consented to remain under my protection, she musthave done so without a masquerade.The uncle stood still and looked at his niece. He probablyunderstood how thoroughly stern and disagreeable was his own face,and considered that he could punish the crime of his relative in noseverer way than by looking at her. In this I think he was right.But at last there was a necessity for speaking. "Unfortunate youngwoman!" he said, and then paused."We had better get rid of the landlord," I said, "before we come toany explanation." And I motioned to the man to leave the room.This he did very unwillingly, but at last he was gone."I fear that it is needless to care on her account who may hear thestory of her shame," said Sir William. I looked at Miss Weston, butshe still sat hiding her face. However, if she did not defendherself, it was necessary that I should defend both her and me."I do not know how far I may be at liberty to speak with referenceto the private matters of yourself or of your--your niece, SirWilliam Weston. I would not willingly interfere--""Sir," said he, "your interference has already taken place. Willyou have the goodness to explain to me what are your intentions withregard to that lady?"My intentions! Heaven help me! My intentions, of course, were toleave her in her uncle's hands. Indeed, I could hardly be said tohave formed any intention since I had learned that I had beenhonoured by a lady's presence. At this moment I deeply regrettedthat I had thoughtlessly stated to her that I was an unmarried man.In doing so I had had no object. But at that time "Smith" had beenquite a stranger to me, and I had not thought it necessary todeclare my own private concerns. Since that I had talked so littleof myself that the fact of my family at home had not been mentioned."Will you have the goodness to explain what are your intentions withregard to that lady?" said the baronet."Oh, Uncle William!" exclaimed Miss Weston, now at length raisingher head from her hands."Hold your peace, madam," said he. "When called upon to speak, youwill find your words with difficulty enough. Sir, I am waiting foran answer from you.""But, uncle, he is nothing to me;--the gentleman is nothing to me!""By the heavens above us, he shall be something, or I will know thereason why! What! he has gone off with you; he has travelledthrough the country with you, hiding you from your only naturalfriend; he has been your companion for weeks--""Six days, sir," said I."Sir!" said the baronet, again giving me the lie. "And now," hecontinued, addressing his niece, "you tell me that he is nothing toyou. He shall give me his promise that he will make you his wife atthe consulate at Alexandria, or I will destroy him. I know who heis.""If you know who I am," said I, "you must know--"But he would not listen to me. "And as for you, madam, unless hemakes me that promise--" And then he paused in his threat, and,turning round, looked me in the face. I saw that she also waslooking at me, though not openly as he did; and some flatteringdevil that was at work round my heart, would have persuaded that shealso would have heard a certain answer given without dismay,--wouldeven have received comfort in her agony from such an answer. Butthe reader knows how completely that answer was out of my power."I have not the slightest ground for supposing," said I, "that thelady would accede to such an arrangement,--if it were possible. Myacquaintance with her has been altogether confined to--. To tellthe truth, I have not been in Miss Weston's confidence, and haveonly taken her for that which she has seemed to be.""Sir!" said the baronet, again looking at me as though he wouldwither me on the spot for my falsehood."It is true!" said Julia, getting up from her seat, and appealingwith clasped hands to her uncle--"as true as Heaven.""Madam!" said he, "do you both take me for a fool?""That you should take me for one," said I, "would be very natural.The facts are as we state to you. Miss Weston,--as I now learn thatshe is,--did me the honour of calling at my hotel, having heard--"And then it seemed to me as though I were attempting to screenmyself by telling the story against her, so I was again silent.Never in my life had I been in a position of such extraordinarydifficulty. The duty which I owed to Julia as a woman, and to SirWilliam as a guardian, and to myself as the father of a family, allclashed with each other. I was anxious to be generous, honest, andprudent, but it was impossible; so I made up my mind to say nothingfurther."Mr. Jones," said the baronet, "I have explained to you the onlyarrangement which under the present circumstances I can permit topass without open exposure and condign punishment. That you are agentleman by birth, education, and position I am aware,"--whereuponI raised my hat, and then he continued: "That lady has threehundred a year of her own--""And attractions, personal and mental, which are worth ten times themoney," said I, and I bowed to my fair friend, who looked at me thewhile with sad beseeching eyes. I confess that the mistress of mybosom, had she known my thoughts at that one moment, might have hadcause for anger."Very well," continued he. "Then the proposal which I name, cannot,I imagine, but be satisfactory. If you will make to her and to methe only amends which it is in your power as a gentleman to afford,I will forgive all. Tell me that you will make her your wife onyour arrival in Egypt."I would have given anything not to have looked at Miss Weston atthis moment, but I could not help it. I did turn my face half roundto her before I answered, and then felt that I had been cruel indoing so. "Sir William," said I, "I have at home already a wife andfamily of my own.""It is not true!" said he, retreating a step, and staring at me withamazement."There is something, sir," I replied, "in the unprecedentedcircumstances of this meeting, and in your position with regard tothat lady, which, joined to your advanced age, will enable me toregard that useless insult as unspoken. I am a married man. Thereis the signature of my wife's last letter," and I handed him onewhich I had received as I was leaving Jerusalem.But the coarse violent contradiction which Sir William had given mewas nothing compared with the reproach conveyed in Miss Weston'scountenance. She looked at me as though all her anger were nowturned against me. And yet, methought, there was more of sorrowthan of resentment in her countenance. But what cause was there foreither? Why should I be reproached, even by her look? She did notremember at the moment that when I answered her chance question asto my domestic affairs, I had answered it as to a man who was astranger to me, and not as to a beautiful woman, with whom I wasabout to pass certain days in close and intimate society. To her,at the moment, it seemed as though I had cruelly deceived her. Intruth, the one person really deceived had been myself.And here I must explain, on behalf of the lady, that when she firstjoined me she had no other view than that of seeing the banks of theJordan in that guise which she had chosen to assume, in order toescape from the solemnity and austerity of a disagreeable relative.She had been very foolish, and that was all. I take it that she hadfirst left her uncle at Constantinople, but on this point I nevergot certain information. Afterwards, while we were travellingtogether, the idea had come upon her, that she might go on as far asAlexandria with me. And then I know nothing further of the lady'sintentions, but I am certain that her wishes were good and pure.Her uncle had been intolerable to her, and she had fled from him.Such had been her offence, and no more."Then, sir," said the baronet, giving me back my letter, "you mustbe a double-dyed villain.""And you, sir," said I -. But here Julia Weston interrupted me."Uncle, you altogether wrong this gentleman," she said. "He hasbeen kind to me beyond my power of words to express; but, till toldby you, he knew nothing of my secret. Nor would he have known it,"she added, looking down upon the ground. As to that latterassertion, I was at liberty to believe as much as I pleased.The Pole now came to the door, informing us that any who wished tostart by the packet must go on board, and therefore, as theunreasonable old gentleman perceived, it was necessary that weshould all make our arrangements. I cannot say that they were suchas enable me to look back on them with satisfaction. He did seemnow at last to believe that I had been an unconscious agent in hisniece's stratagem, but he hardly on that account became civil to me."It was absolutely necessary," he said, "that he and thatunfortunate young woman," as he would call her, "should depart atonce,--by this ship now going." To this proposition of course Imade no opposition. "And you, Mr. Jones," he continued, "will atonce perceive that you, as a gentleman, should allow us to proceedon our journey without the honour of your company."This was very dreadful, but what could I say; or, indeed, what couldI do? My most earnest desire in the matter was to save Miss Westonfrom annoyance; and under existing circumstances my presence onboard could not but be a burden to her. And then, if I went,--if Idid go, in opposition to the wishes of the baronet, could I trust myown prudence? It was better for all parties that I should remain."Sir William," said I, after a minute's consideration, "if you willapologise to me for the gross insults you have offered me, it shallbe as you say.""Mr. Jones," said Sir William, "I do apologise for the words which Iused to you while I was labouring under a very natural misconceptionof the circumstances." I do not know that I was much the better forthe apology, but at the moment I regarded it sufficient.Their things were then hurried down to the strand, and I accompaniedthem to the ruined quay. I took off my hat to Sir William as he wasfirst let down into the boat. He descended first, so that he mightreceive his niece,--for all Jaffa now knew that it was a lady,--andthen I gave her my hand for the last time. "God bless you, MissWeston," I said, pressing it closely. "God bless you, Mr. Jones,"she replied. And from that day to this I have neither spoken to hernor seen her.I waited a fortnight at Jaffa for the French boat, eating cutlets ofgoat's flesh, and wandering among the orange groves. I certainlylook back on that fortnight as the most miserable period of my life.I had been deceived, and had failed to discover the deceit, eventhough the deceiver had perhaps wished that I should do so. Forthat blindness I have never forgiven myself.
THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *
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