RUMAMAIN
The village stands on the edge of the gorge through which we had passed. The mountains tower aloft on either side. The valley narrows southward, but to the north it opens out into a broad, fertile expanse, bounded by the mountains, torn with water-courses, which form the southern bank of the gorge of the Jabbok.
Before daybreak we were all astir. Waiting only for a supply of beautiful milk, which was brought us by the Arabs in the mountains, we got to horse again. Our guide shouldered his club and marched off towards the thickets that hung, shaggy and dark, on the sides of the valley. Our path wound among these delightful groves almost to the confines of es-Salt. About three hours sufficed to bring us to the city, but the ride was one not soon to be forgotten. It was one of the most enjoyable parts of our whole journey. Thick oaks and thorns gathered in the bottom of the hollows; honeysuckle, entwining their gnarled limbs, shed perfume on the air; the hillsides were clad with trees of richly varied foliage, while tall pines swayed gracefully high over all. The morning was fresh and beautiful. Even the horses seemed to feel the inspiration of surroundings, and footed it merrily along. It seemed all too soon when we reached the edge of the forest, and looked forth on the treeless hills beyond. Many of these are, however, covered with vineyards, whose sprouting green relieved the dull monotony. Tree-clad they too once were, as we can see from the numerous stumps in the fields. A few of the forest patriarchs, left here and there in the cultivated ground, would have done much to beautify the land, and would have yielded grateful shade to the labourers. But it is difficult to restrain the axe when it is once set in motion. Here we found evidences of genuine industry. Wherever it is possible, vines are planted and carefully tended, so that the face of the country assumes quite a cheerful and prosperous aspect.
The city of es-Salt, lying as it does on the steep slope of a valley, is not seen until one is fairly upon it. The name es-Salt is evidently derived from salton hieraticon—“the sacred forest.” The inhabitants may number in all some seven thousand, of whom the great majority are Moslems. With the Christians, however, they continue to dwell together in harmony. There may be about two thousand Christians, taking Greeks, Latins, and Protestants all together. The last belong to the church founded by the Church Missionary Society. It was our good fortune to meet with the Syrian clergyman of this congregation, Kassîs Khalîl Jamal—a gentleman whose praise is in all the churches. With his counsel, we were persuaded to stay here for the day, instead of pushing straight on to Jordan, as we had originally intended. In the valley under the city are olive groves, where the company, dismounting, sat down for lunch, under shadow of the trees, with the sound of running water in their ears. Our tents we pitched on the top of the hill overlooking the town, separated by a narrow valley from that on which the ruins of the old castle stand.
Having seen all right about the camp, some of us set out, gun in hand, tempted by the numerous partridges, and enjoyed an excellent opportunity to see the surroundings of es-Salt. There are few remains of antiquity, and these not of great interest. Traces of old graves, found along the hill-faces, and the bare ruins of the old castle are the chief. The springs, to which the town owes so much of its life, are, of course, highly prized. The town itself is interesting as being the chief mercantile centre in all the district east of Jordan through which we travelled. The market is frequented by the Beduw from far and near, and everything necessary for their poor life is found exposed for sale in the streets. Hither the “housewives” bring their samn, jibn (clarified butter and cheese), skins, and other products of the wilds, and carry off in return the cloth of which their scanty clothing is made, coffee, tobacco, etc. Es-Salt thus forms an excellent basis from which to reach the Arab tribes in these parts. The advantages it offers are utilised, as far as possible, by the missionaries there, and, with the help of the medical department of the mission, they have found considerable entrance; but, in order to overtake the work in a manner at all satisfactory, men would have to be set apart to devote all their time to evangelising the Arabs. With a well-manned station here and another at Bozrah, nearly all, if indeed not all, the tribes that touch the eastern borders of Palestine might be reached; and in due time evangelists from among themselves would go forth with the glad tidings into the inhospitable wastes beyond.
We were assured that the grapes grown in the district are unsuitable for the making of wine. However that may be, wine is not made, but a great business is carried on in raisins, those of es-Salt being famed throughout the whole country. The Jewish merchants of Tiberias buy large quantities of them and use them to produce ’arak—a distilled spirit which is working havoc among the youth of western Palestine, Moslems as well as others falling a prey to its seductive influences, although all use of intoxicants is for them under religious ban.
ES-SALT, THE FOUNTAIN
Our stores were replenished from the market, two days’ provision only being required, as in that time we hoped to reach Jerusalem. Early next morning all was packed up and ready for the descent to Jericho. Several of our party were already in the saddle, when the horse of one who had been assisting the ladies to mount thought fit to bolt, and, in their wild efforts to catch him, the European horsemen may have given the Arabs some new ideas in horsemanship. In any case, we gained a more intimate acquaintance with the nearer surroundings of the city than would have been possible otherwise. When at last the runaway was captured, the main part of our caravan had already disappeared some distance in front; and it may give some idea of the crookedness and irregularity of the road to say that we did not catch a glimpse of them again until we were almost upon them, on reaching the plain to the north of the Dead Sea. It is a descent of over four thousand feet in about fifteen miles. The road turns abruptly now to one hand, now to the other, adapting itself to the possibilities of the rough, rocky surface, plunging into ravines, and anon emerging on grassy tracts; but downward, ever downward, is its course. The wild birds here are evidently little used to be disturbed by man. Even the timid partridge sat quite close, or nimbly ran along the rocks on either side of the path. We had not left es-Salt half-an-hour when, from an eminence commanding a wide prospect, we saw the high tower that crowns the Mount of Olives in the far distance, and thus caught the first glimpse of the environs of Jerusalem. This is one of the most tantalising sights. It seems so near, and yet hours of toil in the hot sun seem to bring the traveller no nearer. And when, as the sun sinks, he descends into the valley, and it is lost to view, it seems as if he had been following some strange kind of “Will o’ the wisp.” Ere long, too, we obtained a view of the Dead Sea, lying under a blue haze away below us to the left; and soon we could trace the course of Jordan through the sandy plain by the winding breadth of deep green that fills the valley within the valley in which the river is confined.
