We next come to Tripoli, with its long-robed bearded priests and sheiks, and veiled women, and the dogs, those scavengers of the east, the bazaars, and beautiful foliage.
When we came to Beyrout there was a great stir, so many persons disembarking, some for Beyrout, but more bent for Damascus, beyond the Mountain of Lebanon, and some crossing the Syrian deserts for Bagdad. We bought some immense bunches of pink, blue and white double violets which came from Sharon.
Damascus, the oldest city in the world, is famed chiefly for its finely wrought steel instruments in the shape of swords, daggers, knives, stilettos, some of them magnificent specimens of artistic skill, and often encrusted with jewels of great value.
After leaving Beyrout the weather began to get very stormy, the waves grew mountainous, and soon we were in the throes of a great gale. Just about here we were told the currents are very dangerous, and very fierce storms rage at times. We were ordered below, and we could hear glass and crockery breaking at intervals—during a lull of the tempest.
When morning broke we were some miles from Joppa or Jaffa, as it is called to-day. As we slowly neared the port, rolling heavily, we saw that ancient city built on a rock rising sheer out of the water, with practically no harbour, and in that great gale, swarms of caiques manned by dexterous men of divers nationalities coming towards us—one moment lost in the waves, the next high up on the crest of another. It was of no use, we could not cast anchor, and were doomed to disappointment, for had we not dreamed of traversing that long, white, chalky road which some forty miles away shows the Zion of the elect. And our Russian ladies were greatly excited at having to wait until the return voyage to descend and attain their heart’s desire—to say that they had seen Gethsemane, Calvary, and all the places which must, in these modern times, have lost (except the Holy Sepulchre) much of the beauty depicted in holy writ.
THE IVORY TEMPLE.
FOR AUSTRALIAN WOMEN.
No matter to what status of society we belong we nearly all have little idiosyncrasies, little mannerisms, and, in the majority of cases, they are caused by self-consciousness. Many great speakers, at times, show it in a marked degree. Actresses, too, suffer from it, not to mention singers; but in the latter cases it is termed stage fright. And it is not vanity, it is hyper-sensitiveness; it is not unpardonable, but is often adversely criticised.
And how often are we prone to criticise our friends in their absence; when they are not present to refute any unkind thing said of them, merely because they are misunderstood. The things said may be very trivial, and a look or an innuendo will ban more than words. How often are long and valued friendships broken through these things, or rather these habits of running each other down!