THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER

Vol. XX.—No. 987.]

NOVEMBER 26, 1898.

[Price One Penny.

[Transcriber's Note: This Table of Contents was not present in the original.]

[FROM LONDON TO DAMASCUS.]
[ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.]
[THE RESULT OF OUR HOLIDAYS NEEDLEWORK COMPETITION.]
[LESSONS FROM NATURE.]
[THE GIRL'S OWN QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS COMPETITION.]
[FROCKS FOR TO-MORROW.]
[VARIETIES.]
[ECONOMY.]
[OLD ENGLISH COTTAGE HOMES;]
["OUR HERO."]
[OUR PUZZLE POEMS.]
[ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.]
[OUR SUPPLEMENT STORY COMPETITION.]
[OUR NEXT STORY COMPETITION.]

[FROM LONDON TO DAMASCUS.]

JERUSALEM.

TOWN LADY AND COUNTRY WOMEN.

Elizabeth and I mounted a camel and took our last schimmel hauer, or airing, in Jaffa the beautiful. As our ungainly steed swung up the road with us on his back, and a peculiarly contemptuous expression on his face, we became objects of much curiosity to the natives, who stopped to gaze and point at us. We were amused to see the women in their excitement stand with unveiled faces unmindful of the men, who equally excited had joined them. Their remarks on our appearance were not exactly complimentary. "Look at the Frangi ladies, how they sit! How funny they look! The Frangis are all mad! See, they smile!" We did not understand Arabic, and our missionary friend was too kind to translate freely, otherwise we might not have smiled.

What a glorious morning it was! The remembrance of it now brings a delicious dreaminess over my senses. It must have been on such a day that Lothair and the radiant Mr. Phœbus journeyed from Jaffa to Jerusalem, when the lovely Euphrosyne "rode through lanes of date-bearing palm-trees, and sniffed with her almond-shaped nostrils the all-pervading fragrance." Sharon, the great maritime plain, once a huge forest, from which it takes its name, lay stretched before us. In the midst of its magnificent orange groves, its flower bedecked meadows, its peaceful cornfields, rose the stately palms, their plumed heads nodding in the faint breeze. Beyond, like an Arabian Nights Geni, the stagnant clouds rested on the peaks of the Judæan hills, while in sharp contrast the restless Mediterranean flashed a thousand brilliant lights. Even the dreaded black rocks at the entrance of the harbour were robbed of their terror by the soft sunshine. We were loath, indeed, to leave so lovely a scene, but we comforted ourselves with the thought of returning again some day.

An hour after midday we had said good-bye to our kind hostesses, and seated in a ramshackle old carriage which threatened to come to pieces at any moment, were driving—save the mark!—in all haste to the railway station. Our road lay through the market, whose odoriferous Asiatic smells are particularly unpleasing to English noses. We thought our driver divined this, for he wasted no time, but with terrific shouts and pistol-like cracks of an enormous whip, scattered to the right and left everything and everybody in the line of route, and brought us up to the station in dashing style but exhausted condition.

We had barely got on to the platform with our luggage when the booking office, as if by magic, was invaded by a howling screaming pack of men trying to force their way through a hastily closed door into the station. The voices of the officials demanding order were drowned by the noise, but the speedy arrival of a couple of stalwart Turkish soldiers armed with formidable-looking whips, which they applied impartially to the heads and shoulders of the unruly mob, soon created a dispersion, and peaceable passengers were allowed to take their tickets. This sudden raid on the railway station was made by a number of unauthorised porters, who had become a grave source of annoyance to travellers. The officials were determined to rid themselves of the nuisance, and the order of "No admittance" was being put into effect that day. The Arab seems incapable of learning obedience through any medium but that of corporal punishment. Whether he can be taught reason by less drastic treatment under a more reasonable form of government has yet to be proved. At present, the only law he condescends to understand is represented in tangible form by a powerful soldier armed with a weapon which he promptly uses, indifferent to life or limb of the offender. This measure, if not pleasing, is at any rate effectual.

The railroads from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and from Beirût to Damascus, are justly considered to be the most valuable innovation from the West. The primary idea of the French Company who work them was, that the thousands of pilgrims who visit the Holy Land every year would use the line as a shorter and less expensive mode of travelling. The original idea has developed, for the demands of commerce require goods trains, and merchants are not slow to avail themselves of these advantages. Besides this, the railways have proved a powerful means of breaking down ancient prejudice and bringing the larger culture and refinement of the West within reach of the more ignorant but intelligent East. We found the train service moderately good, the officials civil, and the route pleasant and full of interest. We travelled for the first few stages in the men's compartment which was large and airy, built like a modern tramcar, with an extra seat extending the whole length of the centre; windows and door were wide open, the former protected by blinds, so it was not to be wondered at that we should prefer this carriage to the narrow stifling compartment reserved for the women. The advent of three ladies excited no comment, for were we not "Frangis"? And "Frangis" did extraordinary things! Our fellow-passengers were nearly all Orientals. Magnificently turbaned and gorgeously dressed Moslem gentlemen sat side by side with dirty, travel-stained pilgrims, and dirtier pedlars from distant lands. Jewish and Armenian merchants held lively discussions about the price of stuffs, while two German colonists discoursed on the approaching visit of Kaiser William. A wretched, miserably clad soldier-boy occupied a corner; he was going to join his regiment, and looked sullen and downcast. I offered him an orange, which he accepted, for the day was hot. I felt sorry for him, poor fellow, for well he knew that a Turkish soldier's life "is not a happy one."

Occasionally stray brown locusts flew in through the door, "flopped" down on the floor and remained stationary, apparently dazed with the unusual sight and sound of the "iron horse" and its long tail.

The arrival of more passengers of the masculine gender at a roadside station demanded that we should vacate our seats and retire to the women's quarter at the other end of the train. We accomplished our exit with as good a grace as possible, reflecting that Eastern customs being the exact reverse of those practised in England, we would show our good breeding by yielding to them—when there was no other alternative. In this instance the change was not for the better. The space was limited, and the air stifling, but the friendly native ladies made room for us and offered us a share of the nuts they were eating, the shells of which plentifully bestrewed the floor. Miss B., our missionary friend, and the ladies exchanged lengthy compliments, inquired minutely into each other's business and commented upon it, as if they were members of the same family. We discovered that these untidy, unshapely-looking females were the wives of the above mentioned resplendent Moslem gentlemen. Like good-tempered children, they seemed absolutely contented with their nuts and dolls—for as such they treated their brown-faced, dark-eyed babies—desiring nothing more in this world than to please their husbands, and to purchase the latest pattern of maudeel—or veil—imported from Beirût.

We had now passed through the Wady es Sura and were speeding rapidly through the Valley of Rephaim, once the way in which the Philistines used to come up in the days of the Judges and David. Great rocks lifted their heads on either side, whose barren wildness suggested the home of the eagle and vulture. The sun was setting, and soon a shrill scream from the engine announced that we were nearing the end of our journey. We had just time to collect our wraps when the train drew up at the little station, and our ears were assailed with loud cries from the porters of "Jerusalem!" Before we had time to think, friendly hands grasped ours, and the kindly voices of Miss K. and Miss C. were bidding us welcome.

How delightful it was to escape the noise and worry of an Oriental railway station! To know that all our luggage would be sought for and looked after by a well-trained servant! To feel that we had no care but to answer the polite inquiries of our friends! A few yards and we were crossing the Bethlehem road on our way to Miss K.'s house, which was perched on the top of the Mount of Evil Counsel. The impressions that short walk left on my mind will never be effaced. Before us, clothed in the magical light of the setting sun, rose the mystical blue wall of the distant Moab Hills, while at their feet the Dead Sea gleamed like a thin line of quicksilver. On our left stood Mount Zion, while beyond, Olivet, "the mount before Jerusalem," crowned with a white church, looked down on the sun-gilt walls of the Temple Area. The hum of the city below, the cry of the shepherd in the Kedron Gorge as he called his flock home, and the sharp quick bark of the dog, sounded indistinct and far away.

I began to realise that we were in Jerusalem, and felt already the magic of its wondrous associations. It seemed almost incredible that we should be calmly gazing upon the very place where the world's Redeemer had "suffered and bled and died," and our thoughts were busy as we passed into Miss K.'s charming home to receive a second welcome. After supper Elizabeth and I slipped out into the garden and stood spell-bound at the lovely scene which met our eyes. The sparkling heavens high above us, the hills round us touched with beauty, while below, the City of our God lay shrouded in silver moonlight, like a babe asleep in the arms of its mother. Involuntarily the words rose to our lips: "As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so is the Lord round about His people."

The next morning we engaged donkeys, and with Miss B. for guide and counsellor rode round the walls of Jerusalem. There was no magical moonlight to soften and glorify the ruin and desolation which met our eye at every stage. Where was the beautiful city and temple which caused the stern Titus to weep because he could not save it? Gone! Buried beneath the seventy feet of rubbish which one day will be cleared away. And could that offensive pool, overshadowed by the public shambles, infested with scavenger-dogs, be "cool Siloam's shady rill"? Yes, and the poor little village above is all that remains of the town of Siloam. Even the olive-trees added to the dreariness of the landscape, for they were stunted and badly nourished. We were now riding up the Mount of Olives, the very road trodden by the Man of Sorrows. Loving thoughts and holy memories gathered round every step of the way till we reached the top and "beheld the city." I cannot do better here than quote from Dr. Macduff's Memories of Olivet. "So far as the Mount itself is concerned, thousands of scenes in our own and other lands are alike grander and more beautiful; there is nothing conspicuous in height; nothing picturesque in form, nothing remarkable in colour. An unconspicuous green swell, with triple top sprinkled with trees, and crowned with a Russian church; this, with a walled town fronting its western slope, studded with a few domes and minarets, at once and for ever took its place in the most sacred shrine of memory as the first view of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives." True, there is nothing really beautiful about Jerusalem, according to our Western ideas. Its situation is fine, but the city itself is ugly and surrounded by "mountains" of rubbish. The Mosque of Omar occupies the Temple area, and Islam has taken up its abode in the place once dedicated to the true worship of Jehovah. But in spite of its present misfortunes, Jerusalem possesses a charm for Jew, Christian and Moslem alike, which no other city in the world can claim. Coming down from the Mount, we rode through Bethany, the home of Martha and Mary. It is a small village, and like many places in Palestine, disappointing to the traveller unless he looks away from the present to the past, and fills in the picture with the vivid colours of sacred and profane history.

It is a mistake to suppose that the East never changes. The march of progress has reached Jerusalem, Western influence is felt within its walls, as the red roofs of the numerous Frangi houses and the glass windows of European shops strongly testify. Residents told us that the Jerusalem of to-day bears little or no resemblance to the Jerusalem of a few years back, except in its natural features.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is the chief place of interest in Jerusalem. A visit to its great porch carried us back to the days of chivalry, when the iron shoes of the Crusaders clanged on its stone pavement. Christian knights no longer are required to fight the Turk for the possession of the Holy Sepulchre; instead a strong guard of Turkish soldiers is always on duty to protect the Christians from the violence of each other. Fierce fights, and even bloodshed, are not uncommon among the various sects, Latins, Greeks, Maronites, Copts, Armenians, etc., who have set up their worship in different parts of the sacred edifice. The Holy Sepulchre itself is claimed and held by the Greeks, and every Easter thousands of pilgrims from all parts of the world worship at its shrine. We made our way one day with much difficulty into the narrow cave-like apartment, lighted with huge wax candles, and filled with adoring men and women rapturously kissing the stone slab which covers the supposed tomb, while a Greek priest stood by to receive the offerings of the faithful. We were glad to force our way out, but found some difficulty in doing so, the pressure of the crowd was so great.

This Easter there were five thousand Russians in the city; impassioned-looking men and women, tall, blue-eyed and well favoured, they poured in day after day. We constantly met large parties covered with the dust of travel, each carrying his beloved tea-kettle which he filled at a running brook or neighbouring convent and boiled for his favourite beverage on the semavar, or copper charcoal brazier, which a friendly native would lend. Hundreds of weary miles had they tramped over the hot sand, under the burning sun, deterred by no difficulty, but ever keeping their faces stedfastly set towards Jerusalem. These Russian peasants have one great object in life, for which they save and work with an enthusiasm which never fails: to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to touch the Holy Sepulchre, to visit the holy shrines, to be baptised in the Jordan, and to return to their fatherland empty in purse but rich in candles, vials of oil, unleavened cakes blessed by the Patriarch, and garments dipped in the Jordan, to be worn only once again—as shrouds.

JERUSALEM AND THE MOUNT OF OLIVES FROM SCOPUS.

We once witnessed a touching sight in the Church of the Sepulchre. Four hundred of these peasants, all middle-aged and very old men and women, were toiling up the steps to the tomb, and with looks of rapt devotion kissing the sacred spots. One aged woman was carried on the back of her son, who tenderly kept her from being hurt. We joined them at their Greek service, and longed to be able to tell them the Gospel story in all its sweet simplicity. Their belief seemed to be a series of superstitions with very little foundation of truth. We were told that each pilgrim left with the Patriarch a gold napoleon (or French pound) as a gift. We often came across these poor peasants, sometimes in the convents where they were resting, at others in their churches, or again in the markets, and at all times found them courteous and gentle.

Space would fail, if I chronicled all our doings, but we were never tired of going into the town and watching the people. Outside the Jaffa gate, huddled together in one undistinguishable mass, were always to be found camels, donkeys, horses, dogs and lepers. The last were terrible objects, thrusting their fingerless hands into the faces of the passers-by, begging for backsheesh, and drawing attention to their frightful infirmity. Poor things, outcasts because of their awful and mysterious disease! Inside the Jaffa gate, the bazaars attracted us. The Armenian and Jewish merchants eagerly drove their bargains with their equally keen customers, who unblushingly offered a third or fourth of the sum first demanded, and seemed to spend a vast amount of time and talk but very little money on their purchases.

Mingling with the leisurely crowd of pedestrians, we noticed several dignified Abyssinians clad in spotless white robes, their commanding stature and intelligent ebony faces giving them a distinguished air which was very remarkable. Before General Gordon freed them they were slaves, now they are the "learned men" among the Moslems, and live within the precincts of the Mosque of Omar.

The markets were thronged by numbers of countrywomen, whose dress excited our admiration, for it was always picturesque and often beautiful, differing entirely from that of the townswomen. It consisted of one straight garment, cut with much simplicity of style and reaching from the neck to the ankles, with wide hanging sleeves, which could be tied back when the wearer was engaged in household work; the material of which these dresses were made was sometimes cotton, but oftener thick native silk, dark blue in colour, striped with red and yellow (the front or vest being exquisitely embroidered by the owner's clever fingers), and secured round the waist by a handsome silk scarf; over this a smart scarlet cloth jacket, with half sleeves and of no particular cut, came to the waist; this also was elaborately worked. The long embroidered veil of stout cotton, capable of holding somewhat heavy purchases, was thrown over the head leaving the face free, while heavy silver and gold coins adorned the neck, arms and forehead. Stockings were disdained, but the feet were sometimes thrust into red Turkish slippers, though more often than not, these impedimenta were dispensed with. A camel's-hair abbaye or cloak was sometimes worn for protection against both extreme heat and cold. The perfect carriage and fine figures of these women, who are guiltless of corsets, might well excite the envy of the fashionable Western lady, as with free and graceful step they walk barefooted for miles, carrying on their well-poised heads heavy water-pots, or baskets filled with market produce and livestock in the shape of cocks and hens. To the casual observer the dresses seem all alike, but a practised eye can discern at once whether this woman comes from Nazareth, or that from Bethlehem, or another from the mountains, by the set of the veil or the colour of the gown.

The townswomen affect hideous modern French fashions from Beirût, and cover their tightly-laced figures with cheap jewellery, never omitting to pin the tiny watch (which seldom keeps time) on their bodices. Coloured stockings of a fearful pattern are worn, with a charming indifference to neatness, and gay little satin slippers with high heels, and rather the worse for wear, are added. For the street the pink or blue silk dress must be covered with the universal outdoor mantle, made on one pattern, but often of rich white or coloured silk, embroidered in silver or gold. In shape it is like a very full double petticoat divided into two equal parts at the waist by a girdle—one half forms a skirt and the other is thrown over the head, making the wearer appear at the back like a huge animated cottage loaf. The maudeel covers the face. Hats are reserved for the heads of foreigners.

S. E. B.

(To be continued.)

[ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.]

By JESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of "Sisters Three," etc.