Tabor N.W. and Hermon N.E. were both prominent objects in the landscape, with the town of Beisân between the two,—the ground abounding in the kali plant and neb’k trees, with bright yellow fruit, from which we frequently saw clearly desert camels cropping the lower branches, notwithstanding the long and sharp thorns upon them.
We marched straight on, from one ancient artificial mound to another, with Beisân before us, the streams all the way increasing in width and rapidity,—some of them bordered, or even half-choked, with a jungle of oleander in flower, hemlock, gigantic canes, wild fig-trees, neb’k, and tangled masses of blackberry. Some of them we had to ford, or even leap our horses over. We were surprised at such torrents of water rushing into the Jordan at such a season of the year.
Reached Beisân at half-past six,—a wild-looking place, with magnificent mountains in every direction around, but all frowning black with volcanic basalt; and the people horribly ugly—black and ferocious in physiognomy. They were just in the busiest time of the indigo harvest; but they had herds of very fine cows brought home, as the sun in setting threw over us the shadow of the mountains of Gilboa. My companion from Jerusalem looked up with horror to these hills, and began quoting
the poetic malediction of David upon them on account of the death of Saul and Jonathan: “Let there be no dew, neither rain upon you, nor fields of offerings,” etc.
It was indeed a notable event in one’s life to have arrived at the place where the body of the first king of Israel, with that of his son, the dear friend of David, after being beheaded, were nailed to the walls of the city. Jabesh-Gilead could not have been very far off across the Jordan; for its “valiant men arose, and went all night, and took the body of Saul, and the bodies of his sons, from the walls of Bethshan, and came to Jabesh, and burnt them there. And they took their bones and buried them under a tree at Jabesh, and fasted seven days,” (1 Sam. xxxi. 12, 13). This respectful treatment was by way of grateful recompense for Saul’s past kindness, as the very first act of his royalty had been to deliver them from danger when besieged by Nahash the Ammonite (I Sam. xi.); and they kept his remains till king David removed them into the ancestral sepulchre within the tribe of Benjamin (2 Sam. xxi. 14).
To return. The people of Beisân urged upon us their advice not to sleep in our tents, for fear of Arabs, who were known to be about the neighbourhood. I however preferred to remain as I was; and many of the people slept around the tents upon heaps of indigo plant, making fires for themselves from the straw. Before retiring to sleep, I several times found the horseman at his prayers by
moonlight. During the night the roaring of the water-torrents re-echoed loudly from the rocky hills.
29th.—We learned that the indigo cultivation is not very laborious. The seed is scattered over the ground, and then the people turn the streams over the surface for inundation. There is no ploughing. This is done directly after barley-harvest from the same ground. There is no produce for two years, but after that period the same stalks successively for five years produce about seventy-two-fold. I bought a timnah (measure) of the seed for curiosity, to deposit in our museum.
We finished breakfast, had the tents struck, and the mules laden, all before the sky began to look red, announcing the coming sun.
The castle of ’Ajloon was a very conspicuous object on the mountainous horizon of the east.