Chapter II (3)

"In Jerusalem, and in the other towns, the dogs have an organization of their own. They are divided into families and districts, especially in the night time, and no one of them ventures to quit his proper quarter; for if he does, he is immediately attacked by all the denizens of that into which he intrudes, and is driven back, with several bites as a reminder. Therefore, when an European is walking through Jerusalem by night, he is always followed by a number of canine attendants, and greeted at every step with growls and howls. These tokens of dislike, however, are not intended for him, but for his followers, who are availing themselves of his escort to pass unmolested from one quarter to another.

"During the hard winter of 1859, I fed many of the dogs, who frequented the road which I traversed almost every evening, and afterwards, each time that I passed, I received the homage not only of the individuals, but of the whole band to which they belonged, for they accompanied me to the limits of their respective jurisdictions and were ready to follow me to my own house, if I did but give them a sign of encouragement, coming at my beck from any distance. They even recollected the signal in 1861, though it was but little that I had given them."

The account which this experienced writer gives of the animal presents a singular mixture of repulsive and pleasing traits, the latter being attributable to the true nature of the Dog, and the former to the utter neglect with which it is treated. He remarks that the dogs which run wild in the cities of Palestine are ill-favoured, ill-scented, and ill-conditioned beasts, more like jackals or wolves than dogs, and covered with scars, which betoken their quarelsome nature. Yet, the same animals lose their wild, savage disposition, as soon as any human being endeavours to establish that relationship which was evidently intended to exist between man and the dog. How readily even these despised and neglected animals respond to the slightest advance, has been already shown by Sig. Pierotti's experience, and there is no doubt that these tawny, short-haired, wolf-like animals, could be trained as perfectly as their more favoured brethren of the western world.

As in the olden times, so at the present day, the dogs lie about in the streets, dependent for their livelihood upon the offal that is flung into the roads, or upon the chance morsels that may be thrown to them. An allusion to this custom is made in the well-known passage in Matt. xv. The reader will remember the circumstance that a woman of Canaan, and therefore not an Israelite, came to Jesus, and begged him to heal her daughter, who was vexed with a devil. Then, to try her faith, He said, "It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs." And she said, "Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table." Now, the "crumbs" which are here mentioned are the broken pieces of bread which were used at table, much as bread is sometimes used in eating fish. The form of the "loaves" being flat, and much like that of the oat-cake of this country, adapted them well to the purpose. The same use of broken bread is alluded to in the parable of Lazarus, who desired to be fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table, _i.e._ to partake of the same food as the dogs which swarmed round him and licked his sores. Thus we see that Lazarus was supposed to have undergone the very worst indignities to which poverty could bring a man, and the contrast between himself and the other personage of the parable receives additional strength.

The "crumbs," however liberally distributed, would not nearly suffice for the subsistence of the canine armies, and their chief support consists of the offal, which is rather too plentifully flung into the streets. The Dogs of Palestine are, indeed, much like hyænas of certain African towns, and act as scavengers, devouring any animal substance that may fall in their way. If the body of any animal, not excluding their own kind, be found lying in the streets, the dogs will assemble round it, and tear it to pieces, and they have no scruples even in devouring a human body. Of course, owing to the peculiar feeling entertained by the Orientals towards the Dog, no fate can be imagined more repulsive to the feelings of humanity than to be eaten by dogs; and therein lies the terror of the fate which was prophesied of Ahab and Jezebel. Moreover, the blood, even of the lower animals, was held in great sanctity, and it was in those days hardly possible to invoke a more dreadful fate upon any one than that his blood should be lapped by dogs.

We lose much of the real force of the Scriptures, if we do not possess some notion of the manners and customs of Palestine and the neighbouring countries, as well as of the tone of mind prevalent among the inhabitants. In our own country, that any one should be eaten by dogs would be a fate so contrary to usage, that we can hardly conceive its possibility, and such a fate would be out of the ordinary course of events. But, if such a fate should happen to befall any one, we should have no stronger feeling of pity than the natural regret that the dead person was not buried with Christian rites.

But, with the inhabitants of Palestine, such an event was by no means unlikely. It was, and is still, the custom to bury the corpse almost as soon as life has departed, and such would ordinarily have been the case with the dead body of Jezebel. But, through fear of the merciless Jehu, by whose command she had been flung from the window of her own palace, no one dared to remove her mangled body. The dogs, therefore, seized upon their prey; and, even before Jehu had risen from the banquet with which he celebrated his deed, nothing was left of the body but the skull, the feet, and the hands.

In Mr. Tristram's work, the author has recognised the true dog nature, though concealed behind an uninviting form: "Our watch-dog, Beirût, attached himself instinctively to Wilhelm, though his canine instinct soon taught him to recognise every one of our party of fourteen, and to cling to the tents, whether in motion or at rest, as his home. Poor Beirût! though the veriest pariah in appearance, thy plebeian form encased as noble a dog-heart as ever beat at the sound of a stealthy step."

The same author records a very remarkable example of the sagacity of the native Dog, and the fidelity with which it will keep guard over the property of its master. "The guard-house provided us, unasked, with an invaluable and vigilant sentry, who was never relieved, nor ever quitted the post of duty. The poor Turkish conscript, like every other soldier in the world, is fond of pets, and in front of the grim turret that served for a guard-house was a collection of old orange-boxes and crates, thickly peopled with a garrison of dogs of low degree, whose attachment to the spot was certainly not purchased by the loaves and fishes which fell to their lot.

"One of the family must indeed have had hard times, for she had a family of no less than five dependent on her exertions, and on the superfluities of the sentries' mess. With a sagacity almost more than canine, the poor gaunt creature had scarcely seen our tents pitched before she came over with all her litter and deposited them in front of our tent. At once she scanned the features of every member of the encampment, and introduced herself to our notice. During the week of our stay, she never quitted her post, or attempted any depredation on our kitchen-tent, which might have led to her banishment. Night and day she proved a faithful and vigilant sentry, permitting no stranger, human or canine, European or Oriental, to approach the tents without permission, but keeping on the most familiar terms with ourselves and our servants.

"On the morning of our departure, no sooner had she seen our camp struck, than she conveyed her puppies back to their old quarters in the orange-box, and no intreaties or bribes could induce her to accompany us. On three subsequent visits to Jerusalem, the same dog acted in a similar way, though no longer embarrassed by family cares, and would on no account permit any strange dog, nor even her companions at the guard-house, to approach within the tent ropes."

After perusing this account of the Dog of Palestine, two points strike the reader. The first is the manner in which the Dog, in spite of all the social disadvantages under which it labours, displays one of the chief characteristics of canine nature, namely, the yearning after human society. The animal in question had already attached herself to the guard-house, where she could meet with some sort of human converse, though the inborn prejudices of the Moslem would prevent the soldiers from inviting her to associate with them, as would certainly have been done by European soldiers. She nestled undisturbed in the orange-box, and, safe under the protection of the guard, brought up her young family in their immediate neighbourhood. But, as soon as Europeans arrived, her instinct told her that they would be closer associates than the Turkish soldiers who were quartered in the guard-house, and accordingly she removed herself and her family to the shelter of their tents.

Herein she carried out the leading principle of a dog's nature. A dog _must_ have a master, or at all events a mistress, and just in proportion as he is free from human control, does he become less dog-like and more wolf-like. In fact, familiar intercourse with mankind is an essential part of a dogs true character, and the animal seems to be so well aware of this fact, that he will always contrive to find a master of some sort, and will endure a life of cruel treatment at the hands of a brutal owner rather than have no master at all.

The second point in this account is the singular local instinct which characterises the Dogs of Palestine and other eastern countries, and which is as much inbred in them as the faculty of marking game in the pointer, the combative nature in the bulldog, the exquisite scent in the bloodhound, and the love of water in the Newfoundland dog. In England, we fancy that the love of locality belongs especially to the cat, and that the Dog cares little for place, and much for man. But, in this case, we find that the local instinct overpowered the yearning for human society. Fond as was this dog of her newly-found friends, and faithful as she was in her self-imposed service, she would not follow them away from the spot where she had been born, and where she had produced her own young.

This curious love for locality has evidently been derived from the traditional custom of successive generations, which has passed from the realm of reason into that of instinct. The reader will remember that Sig. Pierotti mentions an instance where the dogs which he had been accustomed to feed would follow him as far as the limits of their particular district, but would go no farther. The late Albert Smith, in his "Month at Constantinople," gives a similar example of this characteristic. He first describes the general habits of the dogs.

On the first night of his arrival, he could not sleep, and went to the window to look out in the night. "The noise I heard then I shall never forget. To say that if all the sheep-dogs, in going to Smithfield on a market-day, had been kept on the constant bark, and pitted against the yelping curs upon all the carts in London, they could have given any idea of the canine uproar that now first astonished me, would be to make the feeblest of images. The whole city rang with one vast riot. Down below me, at Tophané--over-about Stamboul--far away at Scutari--the whole sixty thousand dogs that are said to overrun Constantinople appeared engaged in the most active extermination of each other, without a moment's cessation. The yelping, howling, barking, growling, and snarling, were all merged into one uniform and continuous even sound, as the noise of frogs becomes when heard at a distance. For hours there was no lull. I went to sleep, and woke again, and still, with my windows open, I heard the same tumult going on; nor was it until daybreak that anything like tranquillity was restored.

"Going out in the daytime, it is not difficult to find traces of the fights of the night about the limbs of all the street dogs. There is not one, among their vast number, in the possession of a perfect skin. Some have their ears gnawed away or pulled off; others have their eyes taken out; from the backs and haunches of others perfect steaks of flesh had been torn away; and all bear the scars of desperate combats.

"Wild and desperate as is their nature, these poor animals are susceptible of kindness. If a scrap of bread is thrown to one of them now and then, he does not forget it; for they have, at times, a hard matter to live--not the dogs amongst the shops of Galata or Stamboul, but those whose 'parish' lies in the large burying-grounds and desert places without the city; for each keeps, or rather is kept, to his district, and if he chanced to venture into a strange one, the odds against his return would be very large. One battered old animal, to whom I used occasionally to toss a scrap of food, always followed me from the hotel to the cross street in Pera, where the two soldiers stood on guard, but would never come beyond this point. He knew the fate that awaited him had he done so; and therefore, when I left him, he would lie down in the road, and go to sleep until I came back.

"When a horse or camel dies, and is left about the roads near the city, the bones are soon picked very clean by these dogs, and they will carry the skulls or pelves to great distances. I was told that they will eat their dead fellows--a curious fact, I believe, in canine economy. They are always troublesome, not to say dangerous, at night; and are especially irritated by Europeans, whom they will single out amongst a crowd of Levantines."

In the same work there is a short description of a solitary dervish, who had made his home in the hollow of a large plane-tree, in front of which he sat, surrounded by a small fence of stakes only a foot or so in height. Around him, but not venturing within the fence, were a number of gaunt, half-starved dogs, who prowled about him in hopes of having an occasional morsel of food thrown to them. Solitary as he was, and scanty as must have been the nourishment which he could afford to them, the innate trustfulness of the dog-nature induced them to attach themselves to human society of some sort, though their master was one, and they were many--he was poor, and they were hungry.

Once in the Scriptures the word Greyhound occurs, namely, in Prov. xxx. 29-31: "There be three things which go well, yea, four are comely in going: a lion, which is strongest among beasts, and turneth not away for any; a greyhound; an he-goat also; and a king, against whom there is no rising up." But the word "Greyhound" is only employed conjecturally, inasmuch as the signification of the Hebrew word _Zarzir-mathnâim_ is "one girt about the loins." Some commentators have thought that the horse might be signified by this word, and that the girding about the loins referred to the trappings with which all Easterns love to decorate their steeds. Probably, however, the word in question refers neither to a horse nor a dog, but to a human athlete, or wrestler, stripped, and girt about the loins ready for the contest.

THE WOLF.

Identity of the animal indisputable--its numbers, past and
present--The Wolf never mentioned directly--its general
habits--References in Scripture--its mingled ferocity and
cowardice--its association into packs--The Wolf's bite--How it
takes its prey--its ravages among the flocks--Allusions to this
habit--The shepherd and his nightly enemies--Mr. Tristram and
the Wolf--A semi-tamed Wolf at Marsaba.

There is no doubt that the Hebrew word _Zeëb_, which occurs in a few passages of the Old Testament, is rightly translated as WOLF, and signifies the same animal as is frequently mentioned in the New Testament.

This fierce and dangerous animal was formerly very plentiful in Palestine, but is now much less common, owing to the same causes which have extirpated the lion from the country. It is a rather remarkable fact, that in no passage of Holy Writ is the Wolf directly mentioned. Its name is used as a symbol of a fierce and treacherous enemy, but neither in the Old nor New Testament does any sacred writer mention any act as performed by the Wolf. We have already heard of the lion which attacked Samson and was killed by him, of the lion which slew the disobedient prophet, and of the lions which spared Daniel when thrown into their den. We also read of the dogs which licked Ahab's blood, and ate the body of Jezebel, also of the bears which tore the mocking children.

But in no case is the Wolf mentioned, except in a metaphorical sense; and this fact is the more remarkable, because the animals were so numerous that they were very likely to have exercised some influence on a history extending over such a lengthened range of years, and limited to so small a portion of the earth. Yet we never hear of the Wolf attacking any of the personages mentioned in Scripture; and although we are told of the exploit of David, who pursued a lion and a bear that had taken a lamb out of his fold, we are never told of any similar deed in connexion with the Wolf.

"_The wolf catcheth and scattereth the sheep_"--JOHN x. 12.]

This animal was then what it is now. Seldom seen by day, it lies hidden in its covert as long as the light lasts, and steals out in search of prey in the evening. This custom of the Wolf is mentioned in several passages of Holy Scripture, such as that in Jer. v. 5, 6: "These have altogether broken the yoke, and burst the bonds. Wherefore a lion out of the forest shall slay them, and a wolf of the evenings shall spoil them." In this passage the reader will see that the rebellious Israelites are compared to restive draught cattle which have broken away from their harness and run loose, so that they are deprived of the protection of their owners, and exposed to the fury of wild beasts. A similar reference is made in Hab. i. 8: "Their horses also are swifter than the leopards, and are more fierce than the evening wolves." The same habit of the Wolf is alluded to in Zeph. iii. 3: "Her princes within her are roaring lions; her judges are evening wolves."

Individually, the Wolf is rather a timid animal. It will avoid a man rather than meet him. It prefers to steal upon its prey and take it unawares, rather than to seize it openly and boldly. It is ever suspicious of treachery, and is always imagining that a trap is laid for it. Even the shallow device of a few yards of rope trailing from any object, or a strip of cloth fluttering in the breeze, is quite sufficient to keep the Wolf at bay for a considerable time. This fact is well known to hunters, who are accustomed to secure the body of a slain deer by simply tying a strip of cloth to its horn. If taken in a trap of any kind, or even if it fancies itself in an enclosure from which it can find no egress, it loses all courage, and will submit to be killed without offering the least resistance. It will occasionally endeavour to effect its escape by feigning death, and has more than once been known to succeed in this device.

But, collectively, the Wolf is one of the most dangerous animals that can be found. Herding together in droves when pressed by hunger, the wolves will openly hunt prey, performing this task as perfectly as a pack of trained hounds. Full of wiles themselves, they are craftily wise in anticipating the wiles of the animals which they pursue; and even in full chase, while the body of the pack is following on the footsteps of the flying animal, one or two are detached on the flanks, so as to cut it off if it should attempt to escape by doubling on its pursuers.

There is no animal which a herd of wolves will not attack, and very few which they will not ultimately secure. Strength avails nothing against the numbers of these savage foes, which give no moment of rest, but incessantly assail their antagonist, dashing by instinct at those parts of the body which can be least protected, and lacerating with their peculiar short, snapping bite. Should several of their number be killed or disabled, it makes no difference to the wolves, except that a minute or two are wasted in devouring their slain or wounded brethren, and they only return to the attack the more excited by the taste of blood. Swiftness of foot avails nothing against the tireless perseverance of the wolves, who press on in their peculiar, long, slinging gallop, and in the end are sure to tire out the swifter footed but less enduring animal that flees before them. The stately buffalo is conquered by the ceaseless assaults of the wolves; the bear has been forced to succumb to them, and the fleet-footed stag finds his swift limbs powerless to escape the pursuing band, and his branching horns unable to resist their furious onset when once they overtake him.

In the passage from Habakkuk which has already been quoted, allusion is made to the ferocity of the Wolf, and the same characteristic is mentioned in several other parts of Scripture. Take, for example, Gen. xlix. 27: "Benjamin shall ravin as a wolf: in the morning he shall devour the prey, and at night he shall divide the spoil." Or the passage in Ezekiel xxii. 27: "Her princes in the midst thereof are like wolves ravening the prey, to shed blood." Or the well-known metaphor of our Lord in Matt. vii. 15: "Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves."

That the Wolf is a special enemy to the sheep-fold is shown in many parts of the Scriptures, both in the Old and New Testaments, especially in the latter. In John x. 1-16, Jesus compares himself to a good shepherd, who watches over the fold, and, if the wolves should come to take the sheep, would rather give up His life than they should succeed. But the false teachers are compared to bad shepherds, hired for money, but having no interest in the sheep, and who therefore will not expose themselves to danger in defence of their charge.

This metaphor was far more effective in Palestine, and at that time, than it is in this country and at the present day. In this land, the shepherd has no anxiety about the inroads of wild beasts, but in Palestine one of his chief cares was to keep watch at night lest the wolves should attack the fold, and to drive them away himself in case they should do so. Therefore the shepherd's life was one which involved no small danger as well as anxiety, and the metaphor used by our Lord gains additional force from the knowledge of this fact.

A similar metaphor is used when Jesus wished to express in forcible terms the dangers to which the chosen seventy would oft be subjected, and the impossibility that they should be able to overcome the many perils with which they would be surrounded. "Go your ways: behold, I send you forth as lambs among wolves" (Luke x. 3).

The well-known fact of the ravages of wolves among sheep has been employed by the prophet Isaiah in two passages, wherein he foretells the peaceful state of the world when the kingdom of the Messiah shall have been established: "The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them" (Is. xi. 6). The second passage occurs in chapter lxv. 23-25, and is of a similar character: "They shall not labour in vain, nor bring forth for trouble; for they are the seed of the blessed of the Lord, and their offspring with them. And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be the serpent's meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord."

Mr. Tristram several times met wolves while he was engaged in his travels, and mostly saw solitary specimens. One such encounter took place in the wilderness of Judah: "On my way back, I met a fine solitary wolf, who watched me very coolly, at the distance of sixty yards, while I drew my charge and dropped a bullet down the barrel. Though I sent the ball into a rock between his legs as he stood looking at me in the wady, he was not sufficiently alarmed to do more than move on a little more quickly, ever and anon turning to look at me, while gradually increasing his distance. Darkness compelled me to desist from the chase, when he quietly turned and followed me at a respectful distance. He was a magnificent animal, larger than any European wolf, and of a much lighter colour."

Those who are acquainted with the character of the animal will appreciate the truthfulness of this description. The cautious prowl at a distance, the slow trot away when he fancied he might be attacked, the reverted look, and the final turning back and following at a respectful distance, are all characteristic traits of the Wolf, no matter to what species it may belong, nor what country it may inhabit.

On another occasion, while riding in the open plain of Gennesaret, the horse leaped over the bank of a little ditch, barely three feet in depth. After the horse had passed, and not until then, a Wolf started out of the ditch, literally from under the horse's hoofs, and ran off. The animal had been crouching under the little bank, evidently watching for some cows and calves which were grazing at a short distance, under the charge of a Bedouin boy. The same author mentions that one of the monks belonging to the monastery at Marsaba had contrived to render a Wolf almost tame. Every evening at six o'clock the Wolf came regularly across the ravine, had a piece of bread, and then went back again. With the peculiar jealousy of all tamed animals, the Wolf would not suffer any of his companions to partake of his good fortune. Several of them would sometimes accompany him, but as soon as they came under the wall of the monastery he always drove them away.

The inhabitants of Palestine say that the Wolves of that country are not gregarious, and that they hunt singly, or at most in little packs of few in number. Still they dread the animal exceedingly, and say that one Wolf will do more damage in a flock of sheep than a whole pack of jackals.

As a general rule, the Syrian wolf, like the Syrian bear, is of a lighter colour than its European relatives, and appears to be a larger and stronger animal.

THE FOX OR JACKAL.

The two animals comprehended under one name--The Jackal--its
numbers in ancient and modern Palestine--General habits of the
Jackal--Localities where the Jackal is found--Samson, and the
three hundred "foxes"--Popular objections to the narrative--The
required number easily obtained--Signor Pierotti's remarks upon
the Jackal--An unpleasant position--How the fields were set on
fire--The dread of fire inherent in wild beasts--The truth of
the narrative proved--The Fox and Jackal destructive among
grapes--Allusions to the Fox in the New Testament--Partially
tamed Foxes.

There are several passages in the Old Testament in which the word FOX occurs, and it is almost certain that the Hebrew word _Shuâl_, which is rendered in our translation as Fox, is used rather loosely, and refers in some places to the Jackal, and in others to the Fox. We will first take those passages in which the former rendering of the word is evidently the right one, and will begin by examining those characteristics of the animal which afford grounds for such an assertion.

"_They shall be a portion for foxes._"--PSALM ixiii. 10. _The end of
the Scape Goat._]

Even at the present time, the Jackal is extremely plentiful in Palestine; and as the numbers of wild beasts have much decreased in modern days, the animals must have been even more numerous than they are at present. It is an essentially nocturnal and gregarious animal. During the whole of the day the Jackals lie concealed in their holes or hiding-places, which are usually cavities in the rocks, in tombs, or among ruins. At nightfall they issue from their dens, and form themselves into packs, often consisting of several hundred individuals, and prowl about in search of food. Carrion of various kinds forms their chief subsistence, and they perform in the country much the same task as is fulfilled by the dogs in the cities.

If any animal should be killed, or even severely wounded, the Jackals are sure to find it out and to devour it before the daybreak. They will scent out the track of the hunter, and feed upon the offal of the beasts which he has slain. If the body of a human being were to be left on the ground, the Jackals would certainly leave but little traces of it; and in the olden times of warfare, they must have held high revelry in the battle-field after the armies had retired. It is to this propensity of the Jackal that David refers--himself a man of war, who had fought on many a battle-field, and must have seen the carcases of the slain mangled by these nocturnal prowlers: "Those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. They shall fall by the sword; they shall be a portion for foxes" (Ps. lxiii. 9, 10). Being wild beasts, afraid of man, and too cowardly to attack him even when rendered furious by hunger, and powerful by force of numbers, they keep aloof from towns and cities, and live in the uninhabited parts of the country. Therefore the prophet Jeremiah, in his Book of Lamentations, makes use of the following forcible image, when deploring the pitiful state into which Judæa had fallen: "For this our heart is faint; for these things our eyes are dim: because of the mountain of Zion, which is desolate, the foxes walk upon it" (Lam. v. 17). And Ezekiel makes use of a similar image: "O Israel, thy prophets are like foxes in the desert."

But, by far the most important passage in which the Fox is mentioned, is that wherein is recorded the grotesque vengeance of Samson upon the Philistines: "And Samson went and caught three hundred foxes, and took firebrands, and turned tail to tail, and put a firebrand in the midst between two tails. And when he had set the brands on fire, he let them go into the standing corn of the Philistines, and burnt up both the shocks and also the standing corn, with the vineyards and olives" (Judges xv. 4, 5). Now, as this is one of the passages of Holy Writ to which great objections have been taken, it will be as well to examine these objections, and see whether they have any real force. The first of these objections is, that the number of foxes is far too great to have been caught at one time, and to this objection two answers have been given. The first answer is, that they need not have been caught at once, but by degrees, and kept until wanted. But the general tenor of the narrative is undoubtedly in favour of the supposition that this act of Samson was unpremeditated, and that it was carried into operation at once, before his anger had cooled. The second answer is, that the requisite number of Foxes might have been miraculously sent to Samson for this special purpose. This theory is really so foolish and utterly untenable, that I only mention it because it has been put forward. It fails on two grounds: the first being that a miracle would hardly have been wrought to enable Samson to revenge himself in so cruel and unjustifiable a manner; and the second, that there was not the least necessity for any miracle at all.

If we put out of our minds the idea of the English Fox, an animal comparatively scarce in this country, and solitary in its habits, and substitute the extremely plentiful and gregarious Jackal, wandering in troops by night, and easily decoyed by hunger into a trap, we shall see that double the number might have been taken, if needful. Moreover, it is not to be imagined that Samson caught them all with his own hand. He was at the head of his people, and had many subordinates at his command, so that a large number of hunters might have been employed simultaneously in the capture. In corroboration of this point, I insert an extremely valuable extract from Signor Pierotti's work, in which he makes reference to this very portion of the sacred history:--

"It is still very abundant near Gaza, Askalon, Ashdod, Ekron, and Ramleh. I have frequently met with it during my wanderings by night, and on one occasion had an excellent opportunity of appreciating their number and their noise.

"One evening in the month of January 1857, while it was raining a perfect deluge, I was obliged, owing to the dangerous illness of a friend, to return from Jerusalem to Jaffa. The depth of snow on the road over a great part of the mountain, the clayey mud in the plain, and the darkness of the night, prevented my advancing quickly; so that about half-past three in the morning I arrived on the bank of a small torrent, about half an hour's journey to the east of Ramleh. I wished to cross: my horse at first refused, but, on my spurring it, advanced and at once sank up to the breast, followed of course by my legs, thus teaching me to respect the instinct of an Arab horse for the future.

"There I stuck, without the possibility of escape, and consoled my horse and myself with some provisions that I had in my saddle-bags, shouting and singing at intervals, in the hope of obtaining succour, and of preventing accidents, as I knew that the year before a mule in the same position had been mistaken for a wild beast, and killed. The darkness was profound, and the wind very high; but, happily, it was not cold; for the only things attracted by my calls were numbers of jackals, who remained at a certain distance from me, and responded to my cries, especially when I tried to imitate them, as though they took me for their music-master.

"About five o'clock, one of the guards of the English consulate at Jerusalem came from Ramleh and discovered my state. He charitably returned thither, and brought some men, who extricated me and my horse from our unpleasant bath, which, as may be supposed, was not beneficial to our legs.

"During this most uncomfortable night, I had good opportunity of ascertaining that, if another Samson had wished to burn again the crops in the country of the Philistines, he would have had no difficulty in finding more than three hundred jackals, and catching as many as he wanted in springs, traps, or pitfalls. (See Ps. cxl. 5.)"

The reader will now see that there was not the least difficulty in procuring the requisite number of animals, and that consequently the first objection to the truth of the story is disposed of.

We will now proceed to the second objection, which is, that if the animals were tied tail to tail, they would remain on or near the same spot, because they would pull in different directions, and that, rather than run about, they would turn round and fight each other. Now, in the first place, we are nowhere told that the tails of the foxes, or jackals, were placed in contact with each other, and it is probable that some little space was left between them. That animals so tied would not run in a straight line is evident enough, and this was exactly the effect which Samson wished to produce. Had they been at liberty, and the fiery brand fastened to their tails, they would have run straight to their dens, and produced but little effect. But their captor, with cruel ingenuity, had foreseen this contingency, and, by the method of securing them which he adopted, forced them to pursue a devious course, each animal trying to escape from the dreaded firebrand, and struggling in vain endeavours to drag its companion towards its own particular den.

All wild animals have an instinctive dread of fire; and there is none, not even the fierce and courageous lion, that dares enter within the glare of the bivouac fire. A lion has even been struck in the face with a burning brand, and has not ventured to attack the man that wielded so dreadful a weapon. Consequently it may be imagined that the unfortunate animals that were used by Samson for his vindictive purpose, must have been filled with terror at the burning brands which they dragged after them, and the blaze of the fire which was kindled wherever they went. They would have no leisure to fight, and would only think of escaping from the dread and unintelligible enemy which pursued them.

When a prairie takes fire, all the wild inhabitants flee in terror, and never think of attacking each other, so that the bear, the wolf, the cougar, the deer, and the wild swine, may all be seen huddled together, their natural antagonism quelled in the presence of a common foe. So it must have been with the miserable animals which were made the unconscious instruments of destruction. That they would stand still when a burning brand was between them, and when flames sprang up around them, is absurd. That they would pull in exactly opposite directions with precisely balanced force is equally improbable, and it is therefore evident that they would pursue a devious path, the stronger of the two dragging the weaker, but being jerked out of a straight course and impeded by the resistance which it would offer. That they would stand on the same spot and fight has been shown to be contrary to the custom of animals under similar circumstances.

Thus it will be seen that every objection not only falls to the ground, but carries its own refutation, thus vindicating this episode in sacred history, and showing, that not only were the circumstances possible, but that they were highly probable. Of course every one of the wretched animals must have been ultimately burned to death, after suffering a prolonged torture from the firebrand that was attached to it. Such a consideration would, however, have had no effect for deterring Samson from employing them. The Orientals are never sparing of pain, even when inflicted upon human beings, and in too many cases they seem utterly unable even to comprehend the cruelty of which they are guilty. And Samson was by no means a favourable specimen of his countrymen. He was the very incarnation of strength, but was as morally weak as he was corporeally powerful; and to that weakness he owed his fall. Neither does he seem to possess the least trace of forbearance any more than of self-control, but he yields to his own undisciplined nature, places himself, and through him the whole Israelitish nation, in jeopardy, and then, with a grim humour, scatters destruction on every side in revenge for the troubles which he has brought upon himself by his own acts.

There is a passage in the Old Testament which is tolerably familiar to most students of the Scriptures: "Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines, for our vines have tender grapes" (Solomon's Song, ii. 15). In this passage allusion is made to the peculiar fondness for grapes and several other fruits which exist both in the Fox and the Jackal. Even the domesticated dog is often fond of ripe fruits, and will make great havoc among the gooseberry bushes and the strawberry beds. But both the Fox and the Jackal display a wonderful predilection for the grape above all other fruit, and even when confined and partly tamed, it is scarcely possible to please them better than by offering them a bunch of perfectly ripe grapes. The well-known fable of the fox and the grapes will occur to the mind of every one who reads the passage which has just been quoted.

There are two instances in the New Testament where the Fox is mentioned, and in both cases the allusion is made by the Lord himself. The first of these passages is the touching and well-known reproach, "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head" (Matt. viii. 20). The second passage is that in which He speaks of Herod as "that fox," selecting a term which well expressed the character of the cruel and cunning ruler to whom it was applied.

The reader will remember that, in the history of the last-mentioned animal an anecdote is told of a semi-tamed wolf that used to come every evening for the purpose of receiving a piece of bread. At the same monastery, three foxes used to enjoy a similar privilege. They came regularly to the appointed place, which was not that which the wolf frequented, and used to howl until their expected meal was given to them. Several companions generally accompanied them, but were always jealously driven away before the monks appeared with the bread.

THE HYÆNA.

The Hyæna not mentioned by name, but evidently alluded
to--Signification of the word Zabua--Translated in the
Septuagint as Hyæna--A scene described by the Prophet
Isaiah--The Hyæna plentiful in Palestine at the present day--its
well-known cowardice and fear of man--The uses of the Hyæna and
the services which it renders--The particular species of
Hyæna--The Hyæna in the burial-grounds--Hunting the
Hyæna--Curious superstition respecting the talismanic properties
of its skin--Precautions adopted in flaying it--Popular legends
of the Hyæna and its magical powers--The cavern home of the
Hyæna--The Valley of Zeboim.

Although in our version of the Scriptures the Hyæna is not mentioned by that name, there are two passages in the Old Testament which evidently refer to that animal, and therefore it is described in these pages. If the reader will refer to the prophet Jeremiah, xii. 7-9, he will find these words: "I have forsaken mine house, I have left mine heritage; I have given the dearly beloved of my soul into the hand of her enemies. Mine heritage is unto me as a lion in the forest; it crieth out against me: therefore have I hated it. Mine heritage is unto me as a speckled bird; the birds round about are against her: come ye, assemble all the beasts of the field, come to devour." Now, the word _zabua_ signifies something that is streaked, and in the Authorized Version it is rendered as a speckled bird. But in the Septuagint it is rendered as Hyæna, and this translation is thought by many critical writers to be the true one. It is certain that the word _zabua_ is one of the four names by which the Talmudical writers mention the Hyæna, when treating of its character; and it is equally certain that such a rendering makes the passage more forcible, and is in perfect accordance with the habits of predacious animals.

The whole scene which the Prophet thus describes was evidently familiar to him. First, we have the image of a deserted country, allowed to be overrun with wild beasts. Then we have the lion, which has struck down its prey, roaring with exultation, and defying any adversary to take it from him. Then, the lion having eaten his fill and gone away, we have the Hyænas, vultures, and other carrion-eating creatures, assembling around the carcase, and hastening to devour it. This is a scene which has been witnessed by many hunters who have pursued their sport in lands where lions, hyænas, and vultures are found; and all these creatures were inhabitants of Palestine at the time when Jeremiah wrote.

At the present day, the Hyæna is still plentiful in Palestine, though in the course of the last few years its numbers have sensibly diminished. The solitary traveller, when passing by night from one town to another, often falls in with the Hyæna, but need suffer no fear, as it will not attack a human being, and prefers to slink out of his way. But dead, and dying, or wounded animals are the objects for which it searches; and when it finds them, it devours the whole of its prey. The lion will strike down an antelope, an ox, or a goat--will tear off its flesh with its long fangs, and lick the bones with its rough tongue until they are quite cleaned. The wolves and jackals will follow the lion, and eat every soft portion of the dead animal, while the vultures will fight with them for the coveted morsels. But the Hyæna is a more accomplished scavenger than lion, wolf, jackal, or vulture; for it will eat the very bones themselves, its tremendously-powerful jaws and firmly-set teeth enabling it to crush even the leg-bone of an ox, and its unparalleled digestive powers enabling it to assimilate the sharp and hard fragments which would kill any creature not constituted like itself.

In a wild, or even a partially-inhabited country, the Hyæna is, therefore, a most useful animal. It may occasionally kill a crippled or weakly ox, and sometimes carry off a sheep; but, even in that case, no very great harm is done, for it does not meddle with any animal that can resist. But these few delinquencies are more than compensated by the great services which it renders as scavenger, consuming those substances which even the lion cannot eat, and thus acting as a scavenger in removing objects which would be offensive to sight and injurious to health.

The species which is mentioned in the Scriptures is the Striped Hyæna (_Hyæna striata_); but the habits of all the species are almost exactly similar. We are told by travellers of certain towns in different parts of Africa which would be unendurable but for the Hyænas. With the disregard for human life which prevails throughout all savage portions of that country, the rulers of these towns order executions almost daily, the bodies of the victims being allowed to lie where they happened to fall. No one chooses to touch them, lest they should also be added to the list of victims, and the decomposing bodies would soon cause a pestilence but for the Hyænas, who assemble at night round the bodies, and by the next morning have left scarcely a trace of the murdered men.

Even in Palestine, and in the present day, the Hyæna will endeavour to rifle the grave, and to drag out the interred corpse. The bodies of the rich are buried in rocky caves, whose entrances are closed with heavy stones, which the Hyæna cannot move; but those of the poor, which are buried in the ground, must be defended by stones heaped over them. Even when this precaution is taken, the Hyæna will sometimes find out a weak spot, drag out the body, and devour it.

In consequence of this propensity, the inhabitants have an utter detestation of the animal. They catch it whenever they can, in pitfalls or snares, using precisely the same means as were employed two thousand years ago; or they hunt it to its den, and then kill it, stripping off the hide, and carrying it about still wet, receiving a small sum of money from those to whom they show it. Afterwards the skin is dressed, by rubbing it with lime and salt, and steeping it in the waters of the Dead Sea. It is then made into sandals and leggings, which are thought to be powerful charms, and to defend the wearer from the Hyæna's bite.

"_I have given thee for meat to the beasts of the field and to the
fowls of the heaven._"--EZEK. xxix. 5.]

They always observe certain superstitious precautions in flaying the dead animal. Believing that the scent of the flesh would corrupt the air, they invariably take the carcase to the leeward of the tents before they strip off the skin. Even in the animal which has been kept for years in a cage, and has eaten nothing but fresh meat, the odour is too powerful to be agreeable, as I can testify from practical experience when dissecting a Hyæna that had died in the Zoological Gardens; and it is evident that the scent of an animal that has lived all its life on carrion must be almost unbearable. The skin being removed, the carcase is burnt, because the hunters think that by this process the other Hyænas are prevented from finding the body of their comrade, and either avenging its death or taking warning by its fate.

Superstitions seem to be singularly prevalent concerning the Hyæna. In Palestine, there is a prevalent idea that if a Hyæna meets a solitary man at night, it can enchant him in such a manner as to make him follow it through thickets and over rocks, until he is quite exhausted, and falls an unresisting prey; but that over two persons he has no such influence, and therefore a solitary traveller is gravely advised to call for help as soon as he sees a Hyæna, because the fascination of the beast would be neutralized by the presence of a second person. So firmly is this idea rooted in the minds of the inhabitants, that they will never travel by night, unless they can find at least one companion in their journey.

In Northern Africa there are many strange superstitions connected with this animal, one of the most curious of which is founded on its well-known cowardice. The Arabs fancy that any weapon which has killed a Hyæna, whether it be gun, sword, spear, or dagger, is thenceforth unfit to be used in warfare. "Throw away that sword," said an Arab to a French officer, who had killed a Hyæna, "it has slain the Hyæna, and it will be treacherous to you."

At the present day, its numbers are not nearly so great in Palestine as they used to be, and are decreasing annually. The cause of this diminution lies, according to Signor Pierotti, more in the destruction of forests than in the increase of population and the use of fire-arms, though the two latter causes have undoubtedly considerable influence.

There is a very interesting account by Mr. Tristram of the haunt of these animals. While exploring the deserted quarries of Es Sumrah, between Beth-arabah and Bethel, he came upon a wonderful mass of hyænine relics. The quarries in which were lying the half-hewn blocks, scored with the marks of wedges, had evidently formed the resort of Hyænas for a long series of years. "Vast heaps of bones of camels, oxen, and sheep had been collected by these animals, in some places to the depth of two or three feet, and on one spot I counted the skulls of seven camels. There were no traces whatever of any human remains. We had here a beautiful recent illustration of the mode of foundation of the old bone caverns, so valuable to the geologist. These bones must all have been brought in by the Hyænas, as no camel or sheep could possibly have entered the caverns alive, nor could any floods have washed them in. Near the entrance where the water percolates, they were already forming a soft breccia."

The second allusion to the Hyæna is made in 1 Sam. xiii. 18, "Another company turned to the way of the border that looketh to the Valley of Zeboim towards the wilderness," _i.e._ to the Valley of Hyænas.