the conspiracy, the military party travelled by night over the hilly region; and on reaching the castle of Antipatris, the spearmen and other soldiers left him to continue the journey with cavalry upon the plain to Cæsarea, about three hours farther, (Acts xxiii. 23, and 31, 32.)
It seems impossible to avoid the conclusion that this is the true site of Antipatris; and as for Josephus calling that neighbourhood “the plain of Cuf’r Saba,” that must be for the same reason as another part of the same vast extent was called the Plain of Sharon,—or as it is now very much the custom for modern travellers to call the whole Philistine plain by that name.
As for the statement that a river encompassed the city itself; I imagine that the town was not upon the elevated mound,—this was probably occupied by military works and a temple,—but upon the level of the water, among the serpentine separate streams, which soon combine into one river, the Aujeh, with its water-mills, and which was navigable for some distance inland to the north of Jaffa. In the course of ages some of these streams may have somewhat changed their direction. The mound has still a dry trench around it, which must have anciently had its current of water through it.
It cannot be that the deep trench dug by Alexander from Antipatris to the sea (Antiq. xiii. 15, I, Whiston) can have begun at this village of Cuf’r Saba, where no water rises, and which is far away
from the hills in an open plain. Although the words are distinctly, “from Capharzaba,” the trench must have originated at the river head, i.e., Antipatris, where there was a fortified castle, and passed round the nearest town, viz., that of Cuf’r Saba.
I should observe, that not only Herod did well in selecting this spot for a castle, because of its situation on the verge of the mountains, commanding the road from Jerusalem to either Cæsarea or Joppa; but because it lies also upon the direct caravan track between Damascus and Egypt, nearly at right angles with the other road.
The ruined Saracenic khan which now stands on the foundations of the Roman castle, is of large size, and has a broken mosque in the centre of the enclosure.
We rested and breakfasted, from our own resources, (without taxing the Arab hospitality of Shaikh Sâdek’s family at Mejdal,) at the springs of the Aujeh,—the water bubbling up warm from the ground, among stones, with aquatic birds flying over us, and the morning breeze sighing among the gigantic reeds and the willows.
We engaged a guide for what seemed likely to be a short day’s journey to Ras Kerker, the cursi, or metropolis, of another dominant family—that of Ibn Simhhan—within the mountains; but it proved far longer than was expected.
We were conducted due south, yet so far away from the line of hills that we missed the Roman