From Acre, still journeying southward, we passed the famous brook Kedron, so often alluded to in Holy Writ, and passing through the miserable village of Kaipha, ascended Mount Carmel, and sojourned a couple of days in the hospitable convent of the Carmelite monks. Leaving Carmel, we passed through Cæsarea, now an utter desolation, and visited Jaffa and Gaza, and from the latter place, striking inland, took in succession Hebron, Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the Dead Sea and the Jordan, besides visiting all the other towns of any note or importance, all of which have been often described by European travellers, so that the best thing I can do is to avoid repetition, and content myself with observing, that the reality far exceeded my expectations as regards the beauty of the scenery and the wild picturesque position of almost every
town of note in Palestine. At the same time I deem it most essential to warn the English travellers to be very careful in the choice of a guide-book, as many, even up to a very late date, have been published with apparently no other aim than to puff up the author’s vanity, containing mostly a tissue of unaccountable misrepresentations from first to last. If the traveller, in a spirit of knight-errantry, goes forth to visit the holy shores of Palestine and Syria, hoping there to bask under the bright light of large sunny-loving eyes—if he thinks to lead the Arab maid captive by the heart—to win over the smiles of the Grecian, or scampering over desolate mountains—to fall in with untutored Syrian maids, who sally forth and carry him from his horse, fatigued and fever-smitten, to be watched over and cared for by female philanthropists,—if, I say, the traveller quits England with any such notions, he will return to these shores grievously disappointed.
Although myself a native of the country, dressed in the costume, and speaking the language, still, with all these advantages, the maidens always fled at our approach, not even if they mastered their coyness, would they ever exchange a syllable with us strangers. Possibly, my friend and myself were not possessed of that charm which a recent gallant author, according to his own account, seems to have carried about with him wherever he went; for he says, that in many parts fathers of families rushed out and endeavoured to force him into a marriage with their daughters, or else the maidens themselves, in villages he had never before visited, came forth, having heard of his notoriety (this in parts where there is no post, and where news
travels at the rate of a mile a week), to meet him with timbrel and dance, and other welcomings. The only note that ever welcomed us to such villages, was the angry tongue of a scolding harridan, or else the hooting of the owls, or the cry of the jackal.
CHAPTER VIII.
FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND.
It sometimes happened that the naval officers belonging to the ship-of-war stationed at Beyrout, took up their temporary residence with some friend on shore, being always welcome guests at the houses of the inhabitants. It was in this way that I first came to cultivate an acquaintance with the captain of Her Majesty’s steamer, “Hecate,” so that we were much thrown together. On one occasion, whilst he was a guest at our house, he proposed that I should accompany him on a pleasure cruise as far as Malta; a proposition I gladly acceded to, more particularly as the Emir Beschir, with his family and a relation of my own, were at that time residing on the island. I had long had a desire to see Malta, for many had described it to me as a species of little world, where one might sit down in a café and study the characters of every European nation.
The alarm and grief of my relations on learning my determination was only to be equalled by the envious jeerings of my companions, who, whilst they pretended to pity my infatuation, would, I feel persuaded, have parted with every para in their possession for a portion of my good luck.
The steamer was to sail at the end of the week; and I was so busy making preparations, packing and taking leave, that I really had not a moment’s leisure for calm meditation,—and I am very glad I had not, for the chances are, that this, in conjunction with some of the melancholy forebodings of my friends, would have unnerved me for the trip. Seeing, however, that I was determined on starting, my neighbours changed their annoying prognostications into good acts, which acts consisted in inundating me with as many presents of sweetmeats, biscuits, etc., as would have kept me during a twelvemonths’ passage round the world. I selected some of the best of them for the officers’ mess, and at last the word ready being given, got my luggage together and embarked; the dispatches being received on board, and the “Hecate” soon after getting up her steam, we proceeded on our voyage to Malta accompanied by the prayers and blessings of a multitude of friends and relations assembled at Ras-Beyrout to witness our departure.
The day after we had sailed, I awoke at early dawn and crept up upon deck as best I could. The motion of the vessel was so strange and violent, that I reeled and staggered like a tipsy man, and felt confused, miserable, weak and sick. The horrible sensations I experienced on first awaking that morning cannot be easily erased from my mind. I was awoke by a singular and deafening noise, which seemed to proceed from directly overhead, which, as I afterwards discovered, was occasioned by the daily process of holy-stoning the decks. I managed to reach the main-deck just in time to be handed to the larboard gangway by the officer of the watch, who there left me alone in my
misery with my head hanging over the bulwarks—a wretched victim to sea-sickness.