The greatest interest to-day lay in the number of Tells, which might well repay more careful attention than has yet been bestowed upon them, and which indicate that, in spite of the forcing-house temperature of this district, it must have been at one time fairly well populated.
Our curiosity was aroused by a group of large birds perched on a rock at some little distance, and apparently motionless. We shouted at them, but they declined to rise. We discovered through our field-glasses that they were vultures, at least a score in number, and included a pair of young ones, no bigger than hens, and of a creamy white.
We were not long in reaching the pleasant Ain Fesail, the head of the Wady Fesail, which runs down into the Wady el Abyad, and meets the Jordan in the valley some two or three miles below. Here were wide green meadows, shady trees, and abundance of water, which, for the first time since last night's adventures, incited our horses to some return of cheerfulness. We had time to linger and to explore the adjacent ruins of Phasælis, and the animals were relieved of all their encumbrances that they might enjoy a roll in the fresh grass. The Lady rejoiced especially on behalf of Sadowi, who had been lately so much depressed that she had conceived the theory that the journey, which, owing to circumstances, had been slow, and therefore in some respects tedious, had been too much for him. She had even shown a sentimental desire to walk up hills, had not the Doctor sternly refused to remount her should she carry it into effect. Whether a whole field of grass all at once had the effect of intoxication upon a Jerusalem horse—the chance of a lifetime—or whether it suddenly dawned upon him that yonder were the hills of Judæa, and that he was, therefore, within twenty-four hours of home, we shall never know, but the steady Sadowi suddenly threw care, not to say respectability, to the winds, and started on a fantasia of his own. He tore off like a war-horse at sound of the trumpet, a hunter at sight of the hounds, a saucy colt in the meadows. The other horses, stimulated by evil example, executed minor interludes; Khalil and the haj scampered right and left, and one by one brought in the truants, all but the ringleader, Sadowi, who entirely refused to be caught, and we advised Khalil to desist, in the hope that he would return of his own accord. Some time later, a shout from Khalil roused our attention, and we saw him leading in a sedate and repentant Sadowi by the halter. "He ran and ran from me like the devil himself," explained his master, with some confusion of ideas, "when all at once he became afraid, and stood and trembled." The Lady seized the occasion to express a hope that this came from no recollection of previous ill-treatment, upon which Khalil threw his arms round the creature's neck, and kissed him passionately. He kicked and swore at him a few minutes later, but the horse seemed equally indifferent to both processes.
The ruins close by are those of Phasælis, a town which Herod the Great named after his brother Phasælus, and which he presented to his sister Salome, who left it to her friend, Julia Livia, the wife of the Emperor Augustus. It stood beside the excellent highroad which we had for some time been following, and which seems to have extended the whole way from Jericho up to Cæsarea Philippi, at the foot of Mount Hermon, and near the source of the Jordan, probably bordered by a forest of palms, at one time extensively cultivated here. The town has no architectural beauty, but, like the twin town of Archelais, is delightfully situated.
It was unfortunate that we had not been advised to make the slight detour up to the foot of the hills to visit the ruins of El Aujeh, and still more that we missed the caverns of Es Sumrah, some ten miles south, described by Tristram. They are sand-stone quarries, resembling those known as Solomon's quarries in Jerusalem, and have been worked so as to resemble huge grottoes. Tristram counted fifty-four pillars still left, and gives an interesting description of the traces of the wild beasts by which they are at present tenanted, and of the bones of camels, oxen, and sheep, which had been their victims.
The ride over the wide plain was exhilarating. Some of the party could now press forward, as we were nearing a more frequented district, and even the Lady was convinced that there was no need to spare the horses. As we neared Jericho we found ourselves enveloped in a sudden dust-storm, and had to give up certain schemes for botanising in the neighbourhood. Even next morning we were warned to be off without delay, in order to secure good weather for the ride to Jerusalem.
The last scene of our drama reminded us, effectually, that we had got back to "the cab-shafts of civilisation," as represented by the Turkish Government. We found the courtyard of the Inn of the Good Samaritan crowded with soldiers, and the level ground all about with laden donkeys; while excited fellahin shouted and cursed and quarrelled, or—a sight rare and pathetic among Arabs—sat still. They were peasants from the village of Bethany, returning home with corn from Moab, and intercepted by the tax-gatherers, who saw an excellent opportunity for their business. One poor wretch who had sought to escape them by making his way round through the hills had been seized, and was now in custody in the inn-yard. The worthy host was absent, but was efficiently represented by his two little boys, who ought to have been playing marbles or whipping tops, but were, instead, keeping up the character of the establishment, and perfectly capable of dealing with the problems before them, even to catching the chickens and turkeys, and shutting them up that they might not be robbed by the soldiers, who were here to see that the peasants were effectually robbed by the tax-gatherers, while they, the little boys, in turn showed considerable experience in robbing their guests.
From the point of view of the continuity of history and the homogeneousness of humanity it is at least interesting to know that even now, with all modern improvements of robbers licensed, uniformed, and salaried, one may still go down from Jerusalem to Jericho and be quite certain of falling among thieves.
But the storm did not come. The sun was bright, the air was clear, kind friends awaited us in Jerusalem, and we were content to believe that the desert of life has many oases:
"Is not the pilgrim's toil o'erpaid