MY first experiences of Palestine survey were from the camp at NÂblus,[35] the ancient Shechem. The method which we then employed was very little varied throughout the whole period of our labours. The camp, consisting of three or four tents, was pitched in some convenient central position by a town or village. Thence we were able to ride eight or ten miles all round, and first visited a few of the highest hill-tops, where, when the observations with the theodolites were complete, we built great cairns of stone. The survey was trigonometrical, depending on two bases, one near Ramleh, east of Jaffa, the other in the plain of Esdraelon, north of Jenin. In 1881 I measured a third base on the Moab plateau, south of Heshbon. All these were connected by triangulation, the stations being from five to fifteen miles apart. The heights of these stations were also fixed by theodolite angles, and thus the elevations above the sea of every great mountain from Dan to Beersheba, and of those east of Jordan between the Jabbok and the Arnon, are known within a limit of four or five feet at least.

The triangles having been calculated in camp, the surveyors separated, and each with his prismatic compass worked in the detail of roads, valley beds, villages, ruins, towers, and all that is usually shown on maps of this scale by Ordnance surveyors. He took the aneroid heights of all important points, which I regard as reliable within ten or twenty feet. He was invariably accompanied by a local guide, who gave the names of the various features shown. The surveyor was never responsible for the spelling of these names. A native scribe was employed to catalogue them in Arabic letters, and thus the errors which might have been caused by the difficulty of distinguishing the sounds of Arab letters were avoided. Without such precaution it would have been impossible to make any scientific comparison with the Hebrew names of the Old Testament.

This work being complete and penned in, we were ready to move the camp. There are parts of the map which I executed to assist my staff, but, as a rule, when the triangulation was complete, I was free to spend much of my time in exploring the important sites within reach, of which I made special surveys on a larger scale.

The explorer is, however, not his own master until he becomes practically acquainted with the language of the natives; and although I had learned French in France and Italian in Italy, the acquisition of a Semitic tongue was only so far rendered easy, that no one who has learned one foreign language grammatically and idiomatically is likely to be content with any other kind of knowledge of other tongues. At the same time, those who have had the advantage of studying foreign languages on the spot know how much easier and more agreeable it is to learn them, as a child learns his mother tongue, first by practice, afterwards by the rules of the grammarian. In the East, the spoken dialects, such as those of Arabic and Turkish, differ greatly from the literary languages. In speaking, simplicity and brevity take the place of the high-flown and artificial refinements of the modern grammarian. The vernacular grammar is simplicity itself compared with the literary style, which only schoolmasters or pedants affect in everyday speech. Nor, indeed, is such indifference to strict grammar unknown even in our own land, though in a less degree, in spoken as compared with written phrase.

At first there was only time to obtain a very superficial smattering, for everyday uses, of the Fellah dialect, which is archaic and rude as compared with the Nahu or “correct” language; but it appeared to me absolutely necessary, not only to understand the Arabic alphabet, but also to become acquainted with the elements at least of grammatical structure; and for this I found leisure during the winters, and the summer holiday of 1873, when a native teacher could be obtained from Damascus. When once the unfamiliar principles of Semitic grammar are understood in one language of the small group (including Hebrew, Arabic, and the Aramean dialects), the student should be able to learn other tongues of the group by the aid of books; but my first lessons in Hebrew I owe to the kind interest of a friend since dead, who devoted time to my education in Jerusalem itself. So unlike in structure are these tongues to either Aryan or Turanian languages, that the idiom is at first hard to catch; and I doubt if any European, until he has lived in the East some time, is ever likely correctly to pronounce the gutturals of the Arabic, unless he is gifted with an ear much more sensitive than usual.

After many years’ study of the native dialect, it appears to me that its further investigation would be of great value to scholars. There can be no doubt that ordinary conversation of the peasantry preserves archaisms of sound, of idiom, and of expression which recall rather the Aramaic spoken in Palestine in the days of Christ than the pure Arabic of southern Arabia. The Syrian dialect (which is much less degraded than Egyptian) is acknowledged, even in dictionaries, to have its peculiarities. The Lebanon servants in my employ were almost unable to understand the speech of the Beni Sakhr Arabs in the Moab desert. The dialect of the towns differs, again, especially in pronunciation, from that of the peasants. The convenient auxiliaries used in daily speech are not recognised in standard grammars, and not a few familiar words of the Fellah dialect I have been unable to discover in the standard dictionaries of Lane and Freytag.[36] The Hebrew goran, “a threshing floor,” and moreg, “a threshing-sledge,” are still words used by the peasants, as is the Assyrian sada, for a “mountain,” and many other ancient words which a good Hebrew scholar will recognise. The peasantry, in short, are not, properly speaking, Arabs, but descendants, in part at least, of the old population to which the Phoenicians belonged, mingled with colonists imported by the Assyrians from Aram, and with the Nabathean and Arab tribes from the south-east. To one acquainted with such a race, the narratives of Genesis and Samuel must always read as though falling from the lips of a modern Syrian, speaking with the same terse vigorous idiom in which his fathers wrote. The Fellahin have been called “modern Canaanites,” and if by this is meant descendants of the Semitic race which the Egyptians found in Palestine before the time of the Hebrew conquest under Joshua—akin to those whose language is represented by the Moabite Stone, and the Phoenician texts from the north coast—the term seems justified by what is known; but, as we shall see a little later, there has always been another population in Syria side by side with the Semitic, of which a few traces are yet discoverable not far north of Shechem.

Ancient Shechem stood very nearly on the same site occupied by the large stone town of NÂblus, in the well-watered gorge, full of gardens of mulberry and walnut, with vineyards and olive-yards and fig trees, above which rise the barren slopes, of Ebal on the north and Gerizim on the south. About one and a half miles to the east, where the vale opens into the small plain of Moreh, is the undisputed site of Jacob’s Well; and north of this, at the foot of Ebal, the little village of Askar, among its cactus hedges, preserves the site of Sychar, mentioned in the fourth Gospel, below which is the tomb of Joseph.

It is curious that Josephus believed Joseph to have been buried at Hebron, for the Book of Joshua places his tomb at Shechem. The monument now shown is an ordinary Syrian tomb in an open-air enclosure by a little ruined mosque. The peculiar feature consists in two pedestals with shallow cups in their tops, placed one at the head, the other at the foot of the grave. I have been told that both Jews and Samaritans offer burnt-offerings at this shrine on these pillar altars, the offerings consisting of shawls, silks, and such fabrics. The same practice is observed by Jews annually at the tomb of the celebrated Simeon Bar Jochai at MeirÛn, in Upper Galilee. The substitution of fabrics for animal sacrifices recalls the paper figures which the Chinese burn, representing the various sacrifices, animal or human, which in earlier ages were burned at tombs.

Shechem has long been a place of special interest, because it is the last refuge of the few survivors of the old Samaritan sect, which, according to their own records, once inhabited every part of Galilee and Samaria, and whose synagogues down to quite recent times existed in Damascus and Alexandria. Although almost every traveller visits their synagogue at NÂblus, it is very difficult to become intimately acquainted with this proud and reserved people; and there are very few persons living who have really seen the oldest of the manuscripts of the Pentateuch which they possess. Scholars, it is true, no longer attach the exaggerated value to this document which it was thought to possess when first attention was called to its existence, and before science was able to show its comparatively modern date, as indicated by the character in which it is written. Yet this venerable roll is perhaps the oldest copy of the Bible in the world, and until it has been read by a competent scholar, it is impossible to say what light it may throw on the study of the Pentateuch.

The Samaritans, according to the latest accounts which I have been able to obtain, number about 160 persons. I had opportunities not only of visiting their synagogue, but of holding a long conversation with the high priest, and questioning him concerning their traditions and literature. They claim to know not only the real tombs of Joseph and Joshua, and of the sons and grandsons of Aaron, sites which are now identified, but also the burial-places of all the sons of Jacob, of which tombs many are also revered by Moslems; but the reliability of such traditions is not very certain. The Samaritan chronicles are not traceable beyond the Middle Ages; but one of these (to be distinguished from their “Book of Joshua,” with its wild legends of Alexander the Great) is a very sober work, to which successive high priests are said to have added brief notes of the chief events of their age.[37] Of this chronicle I made careful study, and found that, as regards its geography at least, it is possible to obtain a very clear idea, and many interesting notices are included of places otherwise very little known in all parts of Palestine. This practice of extending a historic journal from time to time is worthy the attention of students of other ancient literatures; and although the chronicle only claims to have been started by Eleazar ben Amran in 1149 A.D., it has been carried down to 1859 by successive authors. This chronicle presents, as above noted, a great contrast to their “Book of Joshua,” which is full of Samaritan folk-lore tales, and consists of two parts, one penned in 1362 A.D., and the second in 1513 A.D. Of their copies of the Pentateuch, kept in the Synagogue, the oldest of those usually shown dates only from 1456 A.D.; the date of the oldest of all, called “Abishuah’s Roll,” is not yet known, but it is certainly very ancient, the ink being much faded and the parchment decayed. The fact that a Samaritan text of the sixth century is built into a tower near the Synagogue, and preserves letters of the peculiar character employed by this people, seems to show that not impossibly Abishuah’s Roll may be as old as the sixth or seventh century of our era.

The Samaritans are a fine race, above the average of Orientals in stature, and possessing a beauty of feature and complexion very like the best type of south European Jews. Even in the peculiar crinkle of the hair they resemble the Jews, and there can, to my mind, be no doubt that they are more closely allied by blood to their great rivals than they are to any other Oriental people. It is impossible here to inquire into the details of their history, which are very generally known, but the inquiries made by us at various times agree with former researches in indicating that, in many particulars, the pietists of NÂblus have preserved the letter of their law in more primitive degree than have even the Karaites or other puritan Jewish sects which discard Talmudic teaching. So great is their terror of defilement, that they will not even close the eyes of their dead, and employ Moslems to prepare them for burial. In this extreme observance they resemble the Falashas or Abyssinian Jewish converts, who even take the sick out of their houses before death. One very curious custom is observed when, on the eighth day, the Samaritan boys are circumcised. An ancient hymn is sung, which includes a prayer for a certain Roman soldier named German, because he connived at circumcision when forbidden by the Romans, and refused to accept any reward for so doing, asking only to be remembered in their prayers; which desire has been respected for perhaps sixteen hundred years.

Shechem, the home of the Samaritans, has often, from the twelfth century to the present day, been confounded with the city of Samaria, five miles farther to the north-west; but at the latter site there are, I believe, no Samaritans living. The peasant population of Palestine in this central district differs somewhat, however, from that of either Galilee or Judea. It was here that we found the peculiar head-dress which recalls the “round tires like the moon” that roused the Hebrew prophet’s wrath (Isa. iii. 18). These horse-shoe head-dresses, made up of large silver coins laid overlapping, are worn only by married women, often with a crimson head-veil. Some of the little terra-cotta statues of Ashtoreth which are found in Cyprus and in Phoenicia, representing a naked goddess, have just the same crescent-shaped bonnet, and it was perhaps originally connected with the worship of this deity, and therefore hateful to the servant of Jehovah.

The site of Samaria is that of a considerable town, upon an isolated hill, with springs in the valley and olives climbing the terraced slopes. On the summit a colonnade, probably of the age of Herod the Great, runs round a long quadrangle, enclosing the site of the temple built in honour of Augustus by Herodian servility; and on one side are the ruins of the great Crusading Church of St. John, in the crypt of which was shown his tomb. It was believed in the Middle Ages that the head of the Baptist was here preserved. St. John had apparently two heads, since another was shown in Damascus.

There is no doubt that the tomb in question is an ancient Hebrew sepulchre. Perhaps it may be that of the “Kings of Israel.” At least eleven bodies could have been here interred, and there were only thirteen Kings of Israel between Omri and the fall of Samaria.[38] An ancient stone door once closed this tomb, carved in panels like other doors of tombs in Palestine belonging to an early age. One which was found farther south was adorned with the heads of lions and bulls, like those found in Phoenician sarcophagi. The date of these monuments is uncertain. In Lycia, Sir Charles Fellows found doors sculptured with exactly the same ornamental details, which may be as old at least as 500 B.C.

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KURN SARTABA.
KURN SARTABA.

East of Shechem, and to the south, there are mountains more rugged than any south of Galilee. The border of Samaria, which divided it from Judea, ran through these mountains, following the line of the principal valley bed. It had never been laid down with any attempt at exactness before the Survey, but now that the position of the border towns is correctly fixed, it becomes possible to trace it throughout. The Judean outpost on the north-east was the extraordinary conical mountain called Sartaba, which rises from the Jordan Valley. This little-visited peak was thoroughly explored. On the summit a square foundation was discovered, surrounded by an oval rampart. The cone has been artificially cut in places, and is some 270 feet high. The remains may be those of the fourteenth-century fortress, but the site has a much earlier history.

On their return from exile the Jews were accustomed to fix the first day of each month by actual observation of the new moon, and according to the Mishna, the announcement was made throughout the Holy Land by means of bonfires on the mountains. One of these bonfire stations was Sartaba, and it is not impossible that the remains of extensive ash-deposits observed on the mountain were traces of such beacons. The practice was open to mistake, for the Jews assert that the Samaritans used to light fires on neighbouring heights with the malicious intention of confusing the Jewish calendar, and making the Passover feast to fall on the wrong day. Whether we are to credit the statement that this chain of beacons extended even to Mesopotamia is doubtful, but the Jews certainly long kept up intercourse with their brethren in Babylonia.

On the south of Shechem rises the great rounded top of Gerizim, whence the eye ranges from Gilead to the Mediterranean, and on the north to dusky Carmel and snowy Hermon. On the south side of the mountain is Kefr HÂris, where, according to the Samaritans, Joshua was buried—a tradition nowise discordant with the statements of the Old Testament, and which can be traced back at least to the fourth century. Here also the peasants show the tomb of his father, Nun. On the mountain-side, near the summit, the Passover is still eaten, and here, as the Samaritans say, once stood their temple. There are no remains of any great building, but a sacred slab of rock, in which is one of those curious “cup hollows” so frequently found in connection with prehistoric monuments. On the west, the Sharon plain extends beyond the olive groves of the foot-hills to the dark ruined ramparts of CÆsarea—a region which was surveyed in the spring of 1873, and many interesting ruins were then explored. It is one of the most lawless parts of the country, and was then but little cultivated. Scattered oak woods, sandy dunes, marshes, and boggy streams occupy great part of its extent; and on the north is the Crocodile River, still the dwelling of these monsters, who are not found in other streams, but lie in the muddy river under the papyrus or amid the reeds as comfortably as in the Nile.

The crocodiles of this region are mentioned by many writers, from Pliny downwards. A curious story was told in the thirteenth century, according to which they were imported from Egypt by a lord of CÆsarea, in order that his brother might become their victim. The brothers went to bathe in the river, but the wicked lord went in first and was eaten, while his innocent brother escaped.

This part of the plain of Sharon and the west side of the Esdraelon plain are the only places in Palestine, so far as I have been able to ascertain, where Turkoman encampments are found. In Northern Syria the Turkoman camps are more numerous. I have visited their tents in the plains near Kadesh on Orontes, and in the oak-dotted vale where the Eleutherus rises. To the casual visitor they seem to be Bedu, and indeed those in the Sharon plain have almost forgotten their original language. We know historically that a horde of the followers of Ghazan Khan in 1295 A.D., consisting, it is said, of 18,000 tents, came down to Damascus and settled on the coasts of Palestine. Probably the existing Turkoman tribes are the last relics of this horde; but in this mixture of Tartars with the Semitic race of Syria we see still surviving a condition of population as old as the days of Abraham. It is now the general opinion of competent scholars that the non-Semitic population which the Egyptians in the sixteenth century B.C. found in Syria—more especially in the north—was a Mongolic race. The monuments show that in feature they were Mongolian and that they wore the Tartar pigtail, and the names of their chiefs and towns tell the same tale. The Turkomans are degraded representatives of a kindred race. The Turkish masters of Palestine hold now the same position which the Hittite princes held in the days of Abraham and Solomon as over-lords in a country whose inhabitants were mainly of another race.

The greater part of the Jordan Valley lies within the boundaries of Samaria, and it was for this reason that Galilean Jews travelling to Jerusalem crossed the Jordan and journeyed down the left bank to Jericho, where they crossed again without having approached the country of heresy. As regards the western borders of Samaria, there is less certainty perhaps, but such information as we possess seems to show that the limits of this province must be extended to the sea-shore.[39] Indeed, had it been otherwise, the journey from Galilee along the coast would always have been preferable to that along the east side of the Jordan Valley. It must be confessed that the Samaritans possessed some of the best land in Palestine.

Since the greater part of the Jordan Valley thus belonged to Samaria, the exploration of the valley may be here noticed. The survey of the plains of Jericho has been recorded in the preceding chapter. From Jericho in the early spring of 1874 the party proceeded northwards, and by April, in spite of very bad weather, the work was finished within a few miles of the Sea of Galilee.

The total length of the valley is about a hundred miles from the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea. The level of the latter Sir Charles Wilson has determined as 1292 feet below the Mediterranean. The former, as determined by the line of levels which, under a grant from the British Association, I commenced in 1875, and which was completed in 1877, is 682 feet below the same datum. Thus the average fall of the river is 600 feet in a hundred miles, but the upper part of the course is the more rapid, falling about 400 feet in fifty miles. The width is pretty constant along the whole course, the evaporation counterbalancing the additional flow of the Jabbok and other affluents. The volume of water brought down by the Jordan, and evaporated during the summer months in the Dead Sea, makes a difference of fifteen feet between the summer and winter surface of that sea over an area of about 400 square miles. The flow is greatest when the snows on Hermon begin to melt, about the time of Passover, when “Jordan overfloweth its banks all the time of harvest;” for harvest in this deep valley is much earlier than even in the Sharon plains. The river flows in a narrow bed between banks of marl, and the Zor, or depressed channel on either side, averages about a mile across, flanked by white cliffs and steep slopes fifty feet high. In high flood this channel is at times all under water, and the river becomes about a mile wide, but soon sinks within its natural borders. The Zor is filled with brushwood of tamarisk, agnus-castus, and other vegetation, and in places the river is hidden between the bushes and cane beds. Near the fords it is seen as a brown swirling stream with a rapid current. In the upper part of its course there are numerous fords and small rapids. No less than forty crossing places, nearly all of which were previously unknown, were marked by the surveyors.

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THE JORDAN VALLEY (ESH EL GHURAB).
THE JORDAN VALLEY (ESH EL GHURAB).

The most interesting discovery in connection with the river was that of the ford called ’AbÂrah. The name was found in one place only, and does not recur in the ten thousand names collected during the survey. It was applied by the Arabs to one of the chief fords leading over to Bashan, in the vicinity of Bethshean, where the road from Galilee comes down the tributary valley of Jezreel. ’AbÂrah means “ferry” or “crossing,” and there is no doubt that it is the same word which occurs in Beth AbÂrah, “the house of the crossing,” mentioned (John i. 28) as a place where John preached, and where, according to the usual opinion, Christ was Himself baptized.

The traditional site of the Baptism, from the fourth century down to the present day, lies much farther south, at the ford east of Jericho, where Israel crossed from Moab to Gilgal; but the distance from this spot to Cana of Galilee is so great, that it is impossible to reconcile this tradition with the New Testament account. Nor is there anything in that account which points to this southern site. The visit yearly paid by Greek pilgrims to the traditional spot, near Justinian’s old monastery of St. John on Jordan, has often been described. In the sixth century Antoninus speaks of the vast crowd which used there to assemble at the Feast of Epiphany, when it was believed that Jordan yearly rolled itself back and stood still till the baptisms were ended. “And all the men of Alexandria who have ships, with their crews, holding baskets full of spices and balsams, at the hour when the priest blesses the water, before they begin to baptize, throw those baskets into the river, and take thence holy water, with which they sprinkle their ships before they leave port for a voyage.”

It must be confessed that these offerings to the Jordan savour of paganism rather than of Christianity. Sennacherib, before he crossed the river-mouths at the Persian Gulf, threw gold and silver fishes into the water. Alexander the Great, in like manner, according to Arrian, offered a golden goblet to the Indus. In Etruria the Lake of Ciliegeto was found full of bronze ex votos, with coins and other objects, thrown by pious visitors into the water, and other instances are known in India. Nor is this a solitary example in which the practices of Byzantine Christians in Palestine are intimately connected with the older pagan rites of the country.

There is, as before said, no strong reason for accepting this traditional site for Bethabara. Some of the earliest MSS. of the Gospel read Bethania for Bethabara; but Origen disputed this reading, and Bethania is probably the later form of the Hebrew word Bashan. Bethabara is found at least in the Codex Ephraemi (C²), and Origen says that nearly all copies of the Gospel in his time had this reading. It would seem then probable that the scene is to be laid, not in the lower, but in the upper part of the Jordan Valley, where the highway from Galilee crosses over to Bashan, where, gay with flowers and carpeted with grass, the plain, dotted with stunted palms, extends between the basalt heights crowned by the Crusading Castle of Beauvoir and the long slopes round Pella, the home of the early Ebionites, who fled from the destruction of Jerusalem, and formed a quiet Christian community in the wilderness where John had baptized.

Few more beautiful scenes can be desired than that which the Jordan Valley presents in spring, when the grass has grown long, and the eye looks down from the hill on the wide stretches of varied colour which fields of wild-flowers present. The pale pink of the phlox, of the wild geranium and cistus, the yellow of the St. John’s wort and of the marigold, the deep red of the pheasant’s-eye and anemone, the lavender of the wild stock are mingled with white and purple clover, white garlic and purple salvia, snapdragons, star-daisies, and the earlier narcissus. The retem, or white broom—the juniper of Scripture—is then in blossom; the long wreaths of vapour cling to the stony mountains of Gilead, and hide its oak glades and firs. The stork pilgrims have come from the south, bringing the spring-time, and rest their weary wings by the marshy brooks round Bethshean, where the chorus of frogs day and night invites their own destruction.

But towards the south the saltness of the soil is too great for such vegetation. For five or six miles north of the Dead Sea the marl flats support only the low bushes of the alkali plant. Even half-way up the valley there are salt springs and tracts of barren salt marl; and one of our camps in the narrow gorge called WÂdy MÂleh (“the Valley of Salt”) was placed beside a hot sulphurous spring too brackish to drink. For several days we experienced much discomfort in this volcanic ravine, and had to fetch water from a considerable distance. These traces of volcanic action occur from north to south on both sides of the Jordan Valley. Beds of lava and basalt occur both west and east of the Sea of Galilee, and again east of the Dead Sea. Hot springs are found on either shore of that sea, and again at the famous Baths of Gadara, and at those of Hammath near Tiberias. Even in times long after the great fault had rent this mighty gorge from north to south, tearing asunder the sandstone beds, and bending down the chalk strata on the west, forming the chain of lakes between Hermon and the Arabah of which the Dead Sea and Sea of Galilee are the last relics, and of which we traced the raised beaches far up the valley—long after all these convulsions, fiery streams of lava flowed over the plains of Bashan, and reached the shores of Tiberias, and covered the cliffs to the west with black volcanic rocks, which form rolling downs of treeless land. Nor was this energy spent even in late historic times, when the great earthquake of 1837 overthrew the town of Safed, and raised the temperature of the hot springs in the valley.

Among the curious delusions which seem destined again and again to recover from the ridicule cast upon them by practical knowledge is the famous fallacy of a Jordan Valley Canal. Leaving aside the question of an expenditure to which that of the Panama Canal cannot compare, the theorists who have proposed this wild scheme do not seem to reflect that the whole volume of the Jordan never suffices permanently to alter the Dead Sea level. The canal then must let in much more water than the river. If it were possible to fill this valley to sea-level—as no doubt it may once have been filled by Nature herself—not only would the crops of the inhabitants be overwhelmed, with the villages of Jericho and Delhemiyeh and the town of Tiberias, but the sea so formed would extend to a breadth of from ten to twenty miles, covering all the villages and corn-lands of the valley of Jezreel. It is almost incredible that this chimera should have received serious support from influential and monied believers in the unlimited powers of modern engineering. A very simple calculation shows that were the sea admitted by such a canal as was proposed in 1883, it might pour into the valley, but could never make headway against the enormous power of evaporation in this burning gulf. Even on the higher plateau near Damascus the rushing stream of the Abana is unable to penetrate far into the desert, and sinks in the marshes of the Birket ’Ateibeh.[40]

The exploration of the valley was one of the most trying periods of the Survey. At first a constant downpour of rain, with clouds scudding along below sea-level, and storms of snow and hail interrupting the observations from the hill stations, delayed our progress. Afterwards the want of fresh water at WÂdy MÂleh proved very trying; then the marshy land round Bethshean brought fever into the camp; lastly, the intense heat obliged us to work in the very early hours of dawning light, and nearly cost me a sunstroke.

There was also great difficulty in obtaining supplies and transport. Our party was by this time so well organised that no time, as a rule, was lost in changing camp. But in the valley we waited day after day in the wet, suffering some of us from rheumatism, and unable to move the sodden and heavy tents. Our first camp was at WÂdy Fusail, near the site of the ancient Phasaelis; and here we found it almost impossible to get any of the Bedu to stay with us. The reason, true or not, which they gave for avoiding the place was, that it is haunted by a ghoul,—that evil and corpse-eating demon whose haunts are shown all over Syria. More than once, while exploring a dark cavern or descending a rock-cut tunnel, we have heard the frightened guide shouting outside, and found him astonished to see us emerge in safety from the ghoul’s den. The ghoul lives also in the great dolmens and in hermits’ caves; but though I have felt on one occasion, in a tunnel where it was necessary to crawl flat, the frightened bats creeping in my hair, I have never been privileged to see or hear a ghoul.

The WÂdy Fusail ghoul, however, was the cause of much delay, and when at last we induced the Arabs to come by daylight with camels, we found that they never used saddles, and their camels were, indeed, almost untrained and very small. We missed the sturdy beasts used by the peasantry, and had very great difficulty in loading the desert dromedaries at all.

It was a pleasure, in the times when the party was well provided with transport, to watch the expedition on the march. The horsemen, on trusty Arab ponies, never sick or sorry, never baffled by the stoniest bridle-path, came first, with our breed of white terriers, which were hardly recognised as dogs by the natives, and which often, night after night, saved us from the depredations of determined horse-thieves. Behind the horsemen came our own baggage-mules, carrying all that was needful for the first founding of the new camp; behind these, again, the camels with heavy stores swung slowly along, while the Maronites, on their donkeys, the Bedu guides on horses and dromedaries, formed a picturesque straggling band, which, as reviewed from a low hill, sometimes extended over half a mile of road. It is pleasant to reflect that, in the years we worked together, there was no dissension, no desertion, and no grumbling in the camp. We suffered together in seasons of sickness, but we stuck together as long as health lasted, and till the work, was done.

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A CAMP IN THE JORDAN VALLEY.
A CAMP IN THE JORDAN VALLEY.

One of the most picturesque incidents of the Survey was a night-raid which occurred at Sulem (the ancient Shunem), where, with Sergeant Black, I was for a few days at a detached camp. At this time the difficulties of transport obliged us to separate from the rest of the party, and to remain without meat, and with very little other food, for three days. In the darkness, after a fatiguing day’s work, we were roused by the shouts of the villagers, and hastily loading our shot-guns, we turned out to witness a skirmish with the Bedu. Whether the raid was intended to capture our horses or to drive off cattle from the village was uncertain; but the dogs discovered a robber just about to cut the halters, and the hillside was for some time illumined by the flashes from the old matchlocks of the villagers, while the war-song of the retreating Arabs faded in the distance. Failing to surprise, the raiders quickly gave up their enterprise, but drove off a stray cow in the darkness. With such night-attacks we became more familiar afterwards in the wilder parts of the Moabite deserts.

The hardships of this campaign cost us dear. They were severe for the strongest, and for my comrade, Mr. Tyrwhitt Drake, they were fatal. As already stated, the terrible Jericho fever had undermined his strength; and though he was successfully nursed through that attack, I have always regretted that he would not hear advice, tendered with the most friendly intention, that he should leave Palestine at least for a time. During the months we spent in the valley he suffered constantly from ague, asthma, and the terrible fever sores, from which no member of the party escaped. Finally, he was almost unable to ride, and when we reached the higher lands, rest was absolutely necessary. I left him with anxious foreboding; and as he wished during my absence in England to make a tour in Northern Syria, I wrote to friends at Damascus, begging them not to let him travel alone. Hardly, however, had he reached Jerusalem when the fever again seized him, and his grave is now marked by a simple monument in the Protestant cemetery on Sion. There can be no doubt that he fell a victim to his own earnest desire to continue his work after his powers of endurance were exhausted.

The share which he took in Palestine exploration has been fully acknowledged in more than one publication. In many respects he was peculiarly fitted for an explorer’s work. Of tall and commanding appearance, with a grave and reserved manner, such as most impresses the Oriental, with a kindliness for man and beast, which made the natives who had long served him much attached to his person, with a power of silent endurance, which made him scorn to utter a single complaint in the midst of trial and suffering constantly endured—especially in frequent attacks of asthma, Mr. Drake was a pattern of that class of Englishmen of whom we are proudest. Had he lived, his name would have been widely known as a bold and trained explorer. I have heard a French traveller, after talking with him, exclaim, “If we had such men among the youths of France, it would be better for our country.” I am happy to be able to reflect that, during those three years of constant intimacy, in the trying isolation of our camp-life, we never fell out; that our last hand-shake was that of comrades who had suffered and worked with single purpose; and that he trusted me to represent at home, at its proper value, the share which he had contributed to our common work.