While resting under a tree, awaiting the coming up of our baggage, ’Abd’errahhmân Bek el ’Asali, a companion of ours from Jerusalem, threw a stone at a young filly and cursed her, because the colours of her legs were of unlucky omen. On such matters the native Moslems entertain strong prejudices, which are based upon precise and well-known rules.
On the arrival of our mules, we pitched the tents upon a pretty green common with a row of trees; the verdure consisted of wild clover, and leaves remaining of wild flowers—chiefly of the wild pink. It is an Arab proverb that “Green is a portion of paradise.”
The villages in sight were Besheet to the S.E., and El Kubeibeh to the N.E. Our day’s journey from Bait Nateef had been one of only seven hours, viz., from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.
The population seemed very industrious: they have cheerful bayârahs, or enclosed orchards, and the open fields were exceedingly well cultivated. The evening scene was most pleasing, comprising the return of flocks and herds from pasture, and the barley-harvest coming home upon asses and camels with bells on their necks—all enlivened by the singing or chattering of women and children.
As the day advanced I was happily employed at my tent door reading the Arabic New Testament; it should have been in Hebrew at Yamnia, as being more profitable than all the Pirké Avoth of the Talmud. At sunset our party walked out in the fields to shoot the pretty bee-eaters.
Of this village there is a tale current among the peasantry over the country, which conveys an important lesson for the conduct of human life.
An old Shaikh of Yabneh had five sons. When
very old, a complaint was brought to him that some one had stolen a cock; so he called together his sons and ordered them all to search for the cock; but it was not found. Some time afterwards it was represented to him that a sheep was stolen; he then commanded his sons to go and search for the cock. They replied, “O our father, it is not a cock but a sheep that is stolen;” but he persisted in his command, and they did what they well could, but without success. After that he was told that a cow was missing; he again commanded his sons to look after the cock. They thinking he had lost his senses, cried, “Sallem ’akalak ya Abuna, (May God perfect thy understanding, O our father,) it is not a cock but a cow that is missing.” “Go look for the cock,” persevered the old man; they obeyed, but this time again without success. People wondered and thought him in a state of mere dotage. Next came the news that a man was killed. The father pertinaciously adhered to his first injunctions, and ordered his sons to look for the cock. Again they returned without finding it, and in the end it came to pass that the killing of the man brought on a blood feud with his relations—the factions of several villages took up the case for revenge, and the whole town was destroyed, and lay long in a state of desolation, for want of sufficient zeal in discovering and punishing the first offence, the stealing of the cock, which thus became a root of all the rest. There is
a good deal of wisdom contained in this narrative or allegory, whichever it may be considered. Offenders become emboldened by impunity, and the first beginnings should be checked.
Thursday 3d.—Early dew around the tents upon the green. We mounted at half-past six. I rode up to the village and got to the top of the tower in the village.