Over an extent of four or five miles, before reaching the Jordan, a rich harvest of wheat was being reaped upon the plain. We first attempted to cross at Samakh, but finding it impossible at that season,
had to turn back to the ford at the broken bridge, which the natives call the ‘mother of arches,’ (Umm el Kanâter;) and even there the water was still deep.
Corn-fields and flocks of sheep in every direction; but all the shepherds carrying firearms. We most of us lay down on our breasts to drink greedily once more from the dear old river; and then we crossed the Jordan into the land of Canaan, going on to Tiberias, and passing on the way some Franciscan monks. What a change of associations from those of the country we had traversed exclusively for the last nine days!
How absurd the sudden and unexpected contrast from old ’Abdu’l ’Azeez and the brilliant young ’Ali Dëâb in the freedom of the desert, to the cowl and the convent of the monks—from the grand savage language of the Ishmaelite to the mellifluous Italian.
At the hot baths of the lake we found our tents already pitched, and my old friend the missionary,—Thomson, from Bayroot,—who had been travelling on the eastern side of the lake, (a territory so little known,) and, as he and I believed, had discovered the true Gadara. We compared notes about affairs of the Arabs at the time.
Several of the juvenile travellers set themselves to swimming before dinner at sunset, the huge hills at the back casting long shadows across the lake.
We all had tea together, as we were to separate to our several destinations in the morning; and on
my retiring to sleep, the thermometer was at 99° Fahrenheit inside the open tent.
Saturday, 19th.—Bathing before the sun rose.
Our travellers engaged the boat from Tiberias for the day, and it came up from the town to our camp with the sail spread. Large flights of aquatic birds as usual flitting and diving about the lake, and the fish abundant, rising and splashing at the surface.