In Lower Galilee, to the north-east of the great plain of Esdraelon, rises an eminence rendered intensely interesting by memories sacred and profane. It is Mount Tabor. Although surrounded by chains of mountains on nearly all sides, it is the only one that stands entirely aloof from its neighbors. The figure of the mount approaches that of a semi-sphere, and presents a regular appearance. Its ground figure is usually described as round; and, indeed, seems to be perfectly so to those coming from the midst of the great plain, or from the sea of Galilee. But, in reality, it is really somewhat longer from east to west than broad, so that its true figure is oval. The height of this mountain has never been subjected to actual measurement. It appears, however, that it occupies three hours to travel round the base of the mountain; that an hour is generally required to reach the summit by a circuitous path, and that the plain upon the top of the eminence is seldom traversed in less time than half an hour.

The mountain is inaccessible except on the north, where the ascent offers so little difficulty that there are few parts which suggest to the traveler the prudence or necessity of dismounting from his horse. This remarkable mountain offers so rare a combination of the bold and beautiful, that pilgrims of all ages have expatiated upon its glories with untiring wonder and delight. The trees of various species, and the bushes always green, with which it is invested, and the small groves with which it is crowned, contribute no less than its figure to its perfect beauty. Ounces, wild boars, gazelles, and hares, are among the animals which find shelter in its more wooded parts; while the trees are tenanted by “birds of every wing,” whose warblings and motions beguile the fatigues of the ascent. “The path,” says Mr. Stephens, “wound around the mountain, and gave us a view from all its different sides, every step presenting something new, and more and more beautiful, until all was completely forgotten and lost in the exceeding loveliness of the view from the summit. Stripped of every association, and considered merely as an elevation commanding a view of unknown valleys and mountains, I never saw a mountain which, for beauty of scene, better repaid the toil of ascending it.”

The view it commands is magnificent. To the north, in successive ranges, are the mountains of Galilee, backed by the mighty Lebanon; and Safet, as always, stands out in prominent relief. To the north-east is the Mount of Beatitudes, with its peculiar outline and interesting associations; behind which rise Great Hermon, and the whole chain of Anti-Lebanon. To the east are the hills of the Haouran, and the country of the Gadarenes, below which the eye catches a glimpse of the Lake of Tiberius, while to the south-east it crosses the valley of the Jordan, and rests on the high land of Bashan. Due south rise the mountains of Gilboa, and behind them those of Samaria, stretching far to the west. On the south-south-west the villages of Endor and Nain are seen on the Little Hermon. Mount Carmel and the Bay of Acre appear on the north-west; and towards them flows, through the fertile plains of Esdraelon, “that great river, the River Kishon,” now dwindled into a little stream. Each feature in this prospect is beautiful: the eye and mind are delighted; and, by a combination of objects and associations, unusual to fallen man, earthly scenes, which more than satisfy the external sense, elevate the soul to heavenly contemplations.

The beautiful upper plain is inclosed by a wall,—probably the same which was built by Josephus, when Governor of Galilee,—and contains some ruins, which are probably those of the two monasteries, which, according to William of Tyre, were built here by Godfrey of Bouillon, in the place of others of earlier date which the Moslems had destroyed. The plain has at different times been under cultivation; but when, from oppression or fear, abandoned by the cultivator, it becomes a table of rich grass and wild flowers, which send forth a most refreshing and luxurious odor. In summer the dews fall copiously on Tabor, and a strong wind blows over it all day.

Tabor is chiefly interesting to the Christian, however, as the supposed scene of the Transfiguration, when Christ appeared in glory, with Moses, and Elias. To the reader of profane history and the student of the career of Napoleon Bonaparte, it is also rendered interesting as the scene of a decisive victory gained by the French general over some of the bravest forces of the East.

It was the night of the 16th of April. The victorious French had encamped at the foot of Mount Tabor. The evening had set in calmly and beautifully, above a plain heaped with the dead of the annihilated army, but the deep shadows of night had scarcely descended, before the French general-in-chief ordered all the villages of the Naplousians to be set on fire; and although they were distant, their red light was so glaring, that it illumined the field of battle and the camp of the victors, and rendered evident many ghastly features of the scene.

At the tent of General Kleber were assembled that gallant officer, Junot, Murat and Bon. Bonaparte was in his tent, surrounded by his faithful Guides. Just outside of the line of tents the watch-fires were brightly burning, and the sentinels paced up and down with solemn tread. Kleber, and his brothers in glory, were seated on camp-stools around a table, on which were several bottles of wine. After Napoleon himself, Kleber was the most remarkable man of the army of Egypt. See him there, with his large and powerful frame—his great head of shaggy hair, his quick, piercing eyes, prominent features, and slovenly costume. Great-souled Jean Baptiste Kleber! The revolution found him a peaceful architect. He entered the ranks as a grenadier, and rose to be esteemed a military genius indispensable to France, and a commander as humane and generous as he was brave and skilful. Always peevish, he yet was guilty of no bitterness of action—mean conduct was with him an impossibility. Opposite Kleber sat Andoche Junot. His mild, pleasant, handsome features expressed nothing of the indomitable spirit which he ever displayed in action; but his eyes were quick and intelligent. His costume was much cut and soiled by the desperate service he had performed during the last two days. Murat was as usual finely dressed. He seemed weary, and drank deeply to revive his spirits. Most terrible had been the slaughter of his sabres that day on the banks of the Jordan. General Bon had nothing remarkable in his appearance. The expression of his sun-burned countenance was that of firmness, united with intelligence and promptitude.

NAPOLEON AT ACRE. Page 105.