In the East no coal is seen, nor is wood used as fuel, but charcoal made of burnt wood. It is very portable, being carried in a brazen vessel, of basin shape, and, being lighted, gives out an intense heat, without either flame or smoke. It appeared to me to burn without attention for a very long time. Round about it the Arabs sleep, and watch, and sing, by turns continuously during the night, in the open air surrounding our tents, and the horses and donkeys are picketed immediately adjoining them.
An excellent dinner was served, consisting generally of soup and fowls, or meat of some kind—occasionally mutton—a few glasses of claret, and sometimes a cup of tea. These last the dragomans do not provide, and I believe they cannot well be obtained in Palestine. We owed them to a fortunate circumstance, and I found them the most refreshing and safest of beverages. Thus altogether we were provided with better dinners, and as superbly cooked, as any we had eaten since leaving Alexandria. This is a point of very great rivalry amongst dragoman cooks. Extremely simple and abstemious themselves, the Arabs must imagine that the Englishman’s god is his belly. Our table was served by the lieutenant of the dragoman, whom, as is usual, we observed to be the tallest and finest-looking Arab of the party—thoroughly trained, and, of course, politely ignorant of English.
Our evenings were very pleasantly spent in visiting each other in our tents on alternate evenings, when conversation, both interesting and amusing, filled up the time most pleasantly till eleven o’clock, when we generally retired to bed. Here we learned to sleep with enjoyment, notwithstanding the noises of the night, consisting almost invariably of the songs of the Arabs, monotonous in the extreme, but amply relieved by the howling of the jackals, the neighing of the horses, the braying of the donkeys, and, if we were near to a village, the barking of the dogs.
Once only we had a wakeful night. A storm of wind threatened, but did not quite blow down our tents; and a still more exciting scene—if scene it can be called in total darkness—arising from our horses having broken loose. I had no idea that even Arab horses and men could have made such a Babel of noise and confusion. I am not sure that it was not done, or at least prolonged on purpose, for to me it seemed that nothing is so enjoyed by an Arab as noise, confusion, and mischief of whatever kind.
We found our travelling companions remarkably agreeable, well informed, and intelligent, and our evenings were greatly enlivened with home stories. The party, although Americans, were of Scotch families, and, to enliven the time, we occasionally got up a lecture or a recitation. The senior (Mr. Dickson of Scranton, Pa.—a gentleman who, I have since ascertained, is well known and highly respected in America) being well up in Burns and Scott, the former of whom he seemed to have nearly by heart, was the life of our party. Altogether the addition of these friends was a great acquisition to us in every respect. They had left the United States in the previous September for a voyage and journey round the world, travelling westward; and had now so far completed the circuit—for which they had allowed themselves twelve months; and I may here mention that I subsequently learned they really accomplished this to a day.
Passing from Judea into Samaria, as we now were, it may be well to say a few words upon the general aspect of the country as it appeared in my eyes, and without reference to the opinions of other travellers. I had of course understood from them generally that the country was no longer one flowing with milk and honey, but the reverse, still one-half of its desolation and barrenness had not been told, or at least not realized in my mind. Three things struck me forcibly. There are really no timber trees in Judea worthy the name; there is scarcely any soil upon the mountains (and Judea is very mountainous), and almost the whole land is covered with loose stones, not in heaps, but spread nearly all over the surface—in many places it might be called a land of stones. No doubt these facts have been stated by the historians, but I think must have been so in a way too much qualified, otherwise I would have been better prepared for the deplorable aspect everywhere around. Perhaps the pictures which illustrate the books on Palestine are more at fault than the letterpress, for they are almost all—whether true or not—made very picturesque, and generally contain one or two beautiful palms or other trees in the foreground; whereas I do not think I saw even one fine palm in Judea, and I fear they are as rare as orange trees are in this country.
The only trees one meets are the olives, which, however, are by no means plentiful in Judea, and mostly old and stunted-looking. In Samaria we saw several considerable plantations of them, but yet that country is also sadly deficient in trees. Where now is the oak tree on which Absolom hung by his bushy locks? There is, I believe, only one remaining sufficiently large for this; and yet we read that the “Wood of Ephraim,” where he was defeated, destroyed more men than did the sword. And where is the sycamore tree up which Zaccheus climbed? I doubt if there be one such within many miles; and yet we know that Jericho was once richly clothed with trees and verdure, and called the “City of Palms.” Indeed, that Palestine generally was once extremely fertile, and rich in woods and verdure, is evident from the meaning of many of the Scripture proper names.[6]
The words grass, mown grass, and green grass, which frequently occur in Scripture, show that the country must have been rich in pastures. Then we read of the “High Places” and of the altars of Baal and Ashtaroth being built in the “woods” and “groves” on every high hill, and again of their being “burned down.” No doubt there are some trees left, but they are found in deep ravines, and generally very sparsely even there. However, that valuable fruit tree the olive—I presume the most important source of wealth in Palestine—is cultivated in some parts, especially in Samaria, although far too sparingly, but even this tree is by no means so grand as I had expected, and rarely seems twenty feet high. The leaf is of a very dark green, with a light grey coloured under-side, and when moved by the wind has a peculiar appearance.
There is along almost every little water-course a number of what are called trees, but they are generally willows or mere copse or brushwood. A tree of any description, of size sufficient to make an ordinary beam for building purposes, is quite a rarity—such are only to be found miles apart. The vine, so much alluded to in the Bible, is somewhat rarely seen; but that it was extensively grown is evident by the traces of terraces upon the steepest hills still abundantly visible.
Then as to flowers—“The Rose of Sharon” and the “Lily of the Valley” cannot be found. There are many wild flowers certainly, but generally they grow out of a “dry ground,” and have, with very good blossom, almost no green foliage. “Thorns and briers” are abundant, but with very little foliage also, and seem useful only for burning. The fig trees even are few and far between, and the orange, apricot, and almond still more so. The fields are not enclosed, except in some rare cases, where a wise husbandman has gathered the loose stones into piles around his border. Hedges are rare, but when seen they are generally formed of large cacti covered with dust, and having in the twilight a somewhat weird look. Cultivated lands in Judea are very rare, and even in Samaria are much covered with stones, making ploughing with the miserable piece of crooked wood a very superficial operation.