Chapter VII (1)

Road to Jericho. ―― Delay. ―― Caravan. ―― Robbers. ―― Ladies.
―― Scenery. ―― Waters of Enshemesh. ―― Wilderness of Judea.
―― Scene of Christ’s Temptation. ―― Thieves of Jericho. ――
Parable of the Good Samaritan. ―― Brook Cherith. ―― Wild
Region. ―― Elijah fed by the Ravens. ―― First View of the
Plain of the Jordan. ―― Evening at Jericho. ―― Ruins of the
ancient City. ―― Historical Events. ―― Fountain of Elisha. ――
’Ain Dûk. ―― Castle of Doch. ―― Jericho of the New Testament.
―― Scene of Herod’s Death. ―― Town of Riha. ―― Site of Gilgal.
―― Great Events. ―― Sunrise on the Plain of Jericho. ――
Richness of the Plain. ―― Quarantania. ―― Description of
Turkish Soldiers. ―― The Ride. ―― Banks of the Jordan. ――
Sources of the Sacred River. ―― The ten Fountains. ―― The
three Lakes. ―― Descent and Sinuosities of the River. ―― Glen
through which it flows. ―― Flowers and Trees on its Banks.
―― Birds in its Shrubbery and Beasts in its Thickets. ―― Its
Color. ―― Depth. ―― Rapidity. ―― Twenty-seven Rapids. ―― Falls.
―― Islands in the River. ―― Roman Bridges. ―― Brook Jabbok. ――
Jacob and the Angel. ―― War Scenes. ―― Entrance of the Jordan
into the Dead Sea. ―― Meaning of Jordan. ―― Pilgrim’s Ford. ――
Charming Scenery. ―― Mountains of Moab. ―― Vision of Balaam.
―― Vision of Moses. ―― His Death. ―― Crossing of the Jordan by
the Israelites. ―― Probable Place. ―― Overflowing of the River.
―― Causes. ―― Translation of Elijah. ―― Cure of Naaman. ――
Baptismal Stations of John the Baptist. ―― Bethabara. ―― Ænon.
―― Scene of Christ’s Baptism here. ―― The Argument for it.
―― Journey to the Dead Sea. ―― Robbers. ―― Features of the
Sea. ―― Delightful Bath. ―― Dimensions of the Sea. ―― Its Bed
coeval with the Upper and Lower Valleys. ―― Sea larger than
formerly. ―― No Outlet. ―― Its Waters evaporate. ―― Peninsula.
―― Island. ―― Surrounding Mountains. ―― Hot Springs of
Callirrhoe. ―― Sublime Chasm. ―― Castle of Machaerus. ―― Wild
Glen. ―― River Arnon. ―― Scenery. ―― City of Kerak. ―― Ruins
of Zoar. ―― Location of Sodom. ―― Manner of its Destruction.
―― Mountain of Salt, cause of the saltness of the Sea. ――
Lot’s Wife. ―― Ruins of Masada. ―― Besieged by Flavius Silva.
―― Tragical Death of 600 Sicarii, their Wives and Children. ――
Fountain of the Kid. ―― David and Saul. ―― Maon. ―― The Home
of Abigail. ―― Journey to Bethlehem. ―― Wilderness of Engedi.
―― A Night with the Monks of Mâr Sâba. ―― The Monastery. ――
Bethlehem. ―― Its Names. ―― Antiquity. ―― History. ―― Convent
of the Franciscans. ―― The Stable of the Nativity. ―― Present
Condition. ―― Pictures. ―― The Manger. ―― Tomb of St. Paula.
―― Cell of St. Jerome. ―― Basilica of St. Helena. ―― Evidence
that this is the Birthplace of Christ. ―― Stable in a House.
―― Situation of Bethlehem. ―― Population. ―― Beautiful Women.
―― Herodium. ―― Tomb of Herod the Great. ―― Cave of Adullam.
―― Hiding-place of David. ―― Its Wonders.

THE road from Jerusalem to Jericho leads from St. Stephen’s Gate down the steep sides of Moriah, across the Valley of the Kidron, over the southwestern shoulder of Olivet, near the village of Bethany, through the wilderness of Judea, and, descending the Mountain of Quarantania, terminates on the great Plain of Jordan. It is another illustration of the accuracy of the sacred writers in their topographical allusions, and another proof that only those who were familiar with the land――who had traversed its highways and noted its natural features, could have written descriptions so minute, and, withal, so incidental. In his parable of the “Good Samaritan,” the Savior casually states, “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho;” which not only indicates the relative position of the latter place to the former, but also the descent of nearly 4000 feet from the Jewish capital to the city of Herod the Great. To the careful and candid observer, such internal evidence of the Bible is ever forcing itself upon his attention, and calling forth expressions of wonder and admiration for the truth-telling chroniclers of our Lord’s life and ministry.

The “latter rains” had delayed our departure for the Jordan, and a farther delay had been caused by the high March winds, which had so dried the surface of the earth, and had filled the air with dust to such an extent, that for the space of a whole day the Mount of Olives was invisible even to one standing upon the wall of the city. But the charms of a Syrian spring morning soon returned, and at an early hour we were in the saddle, waiting impatiently for the caravan to rendezvous at the Garden of Gethsemane. It was a day peculiar to the Promised Land, for the blandness of the sky and the softness of the air. The foliage on shrub and tree wore every shade of green, and the lovely flowers that covered vale and hill-side recalled the beautiful lines of Shelley:

“And the spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the spirit of love felt every where;
And each flower and herb on earth’s dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”

Our dragoman had agreed to furnish horses, tents, board, and military escort for the journey at six dollars a day _per capita_. The escort is indispensable, for he who goes down to Jericho without a guard “falls among thieves,” and, though it is only a question of time when the traveler is robbed, whether prior to the tour or afterward, yet, for the sake of convenience, the former is preferable. He is robbed before the journey by the government, which insists that every pilgrim must pay for its protection; he is robbed on the journey by the organized banditti of the Ghôr, whose depredations the government winks at, if it does not connive with the thieves themselves.

It was ten o’clock A.M. when the caravan moved. Happily for the social amenities their society afforded and the smiles of joy their presence never failed to impart, we were joined by the talented and amiable wife and daughter of a distinguished New Yorker,[245] who was making the tour of Palestine. Mounted on their swift Arabian horses, and tilting their long burnished spears, the Arab guard led the way, followed by the ladies on gentler horses, while the heavy-laden mules, carrying tents, baggage, and cuisine, brought up the rear. On our right lay the Valley of Jehoshaphat, with its monumental tombs; on our left were the terraced slopes of Olivet, green with verdure and bright with flowers; while before us rose the rugged Hill of Offense. Crossing the shoulder of the Mount of Olives, the path sweeps abruptly to the east, and, after winding round the head of the small valley that furrows the hill-side, descends eastward past the place where the Redeemer paused to weep over Jerusalem, and just beyond skirts the town of Bethany. Descending between rough and barren hills, we entered a rocky glen, and in half an hour came to the fountain of El-Haud, the “waters of Enshemesh,”[246] marking the boundary-line between Judah and Benjamin. It is the halting-place of caravans, and its cool, sweet water, flowing into a stone trough beneath a Saracenic arch, is alike refreshing to man and beast in a region so waste and arid. Continuing down the glen for more than an hour, we turned to the left, and soon began the ascent of a wild ravine, the sides of which are limestone, streaked in graceful curves with dikes of porphyry. As the farewells of cultivation, and half rebuking Nature for her general sterility, a stray flower peeped above the rocks, and a stunted tree stood in silent desolation on the hill above. Gradually ascending over chalky hills, our path lay through the bleak Wilderness of Judea. At noon we reached the summit of the central ridge between Enshemesh and Jericho. Neither pen can describe nor pencil sketch the forbidding aspect of this dreary spot. The hills are broken into a thousand rugged, barren peaks, and in color are a mixture of yellow and of a dull red and white. The intervening valleys are dry and stony, and on all that blighted soil there is neither shrub, flower, blade of grass, nor any living thing to relieve the dreariness of the accursed scene. Fit abode for the devil and his angels, the counterpart of Pandemonium, it was hither the Spirit led the suffering Son of God to encounter the Evil One.[247]

For twenty centuries this region has borne a thievish character, and the lapse of time has not changed its reputation. As in the days of our Lord, it is still infested with robbers, who, from their undiscovered dens, or from behind some craggy bluff or beetling cliff, level their long gun at the unwary traveler. Suggested by the dangers of the route, the desolation of the spot, and the remains of an ancient caravansary, tradition has identified it as the scene of the parable of the “Good Samaritan.” Hard by the roadside are broken walls, fragments of an arch, and deep vaults, said to mark the site of that inn to which the “certain man was brought who went down to Jericho and fell among thieves.”[248]

Resuming our journey, we began rapidly to ascend, and soon came upon portions of an old Roman road dating back to the reign of Herod the Great. Winding downward amid chalky hills and through narrow rocky defiles, we at length reached the brow of that sublime gorge through which the brook Cherith flows. Like a silver thread, the stream is seen flowing between banks bright with oleanders. It is here Elijah was fed by the ravens while the famine raged in Palestine. Rising like massive walls five hundred feet high on either side, the mountains cast their deep shadows into the profound chasm below. In their precipitous sides the anchorites have burrowed their solitary cells, and on the loftier crags the Syrian eagle builds his eyrie. Increased by the sombre foliage of the stunted shrubbery clinging to the rocks, there is a solemn grandeur in this mountain gorge, reflecting the sturdy character and rugged life of the great prophet of Tishbeh. Skirting the very verge of the cliff, the winding path descends five hundred feet to the bottom of the glen, where the white rocks reflect the heat like the blast of a furnace. Bearing the Arabic name of El-Kelt, we soon reached the verdant banks of the prophetic brook. The waters are clear, cool, and sweet, but in early autumn, as in the time of Elijah, the stream becomes dry, and as then, so now, the black-winged raven croaks in its flight over the deep ravine.[249] The Cherith flows through the Valley of Achor over the Plain of Jericho, and, meandering as it advances, is lost amid the shrubbery surrounding the castle of Rîha. Refreshed by its delicious waters, we ascended the northern bank of the streamlet, and were soon in the Vale of Achor, where Achan was stoned to death.[250]

Illustration: RAVEN.

Like the enchantment of a mirage, the Plains of the Jordan, green and well-watered, now burst upon our view, and beyond appeared the trans-Jordanic mountains. Following the sinuous banks of the Kelt, we reached the foot of the descent late in the afternoon, and, turning northward, pitched our tents near the Fountain of Elisha. The sun had gone down behind Mizpeh and Gibeon; the shadows of Quarantania lay darkly on the plain; the bleating flocks on the distant hill-side had gathered round the shepherd of the Ghôr; the stars came out one by one from their empyrean abode, and we lay down to slumber amid the ruins of ancient Jericho.

Two cities, neither identical in site nor history, have borne the name of Jericho――one belonging to the age of the prophets, the other founded by Herod the Great and visited by our Lord. The remains of the former consist of six mounds of rubbish and two noble fountains, located half a mile from the foot of the mountain pass. These mounds vary in height from ten to forty feet, and in like proportions in their circumference. Around their bases and on their sides and summits are the débris of old buildings, such as heaps of hewn stone and fragments of pottery, and within them are the entombed dwellings and palaces of the ancient city, remaining for future excavations to uncover. Situated on this magnificent plain, the walls and towers of the older Jericho attracted the attention of the Israelites, who from the mountains on the other side of the Jordan looked down with delight upon this, the first city of Canaan which they had seen.[251] Hither came the spies to “search out the country;” here lived the friendly Rahab, who secreted the two Israelites under the “stalks of flax which she had laid in order upon the roof;” to the west are the mountains whither she sent them to elude pursuit;[252] and around these mounds stood the walls which were miraculously thrown down.[253] Dooming the city to perpetual destruction and infamy for the gross idolatry of the inhabitants, Joshua pronounced a curse upon him who should attempt to rebuild it, which 550 years thereafter was singularly fulfilled in the days of Ahab.[254] Here the embassadors of David, whom Hanun, king of the Ammonites, so shamefully treated, were ordered to remain “till their beards were grown.”[255] Subsequently to the reconstruction of the city by Hiel, it became the seat of the famous school of the prophets.[256] From it Elijah and Elisha passed over the plain to the Jordan, and, crossing the river by a miracle, the former was translated, and the latter, returning to the city, reluctantly consented that fifty of the sons of the prophets should ascend the mountains of Moab to search for Elijah.[257] Delighted with its pleasant situation, and desiring to make it their permanent abode, the young prophets requested Elisha to heal the fountain and restore fertility to the land; and after the miracle, the effects of which are apparent to this day, the successor of the renowned Tishbite left Jericho for Bethel.[258]

The fountain which the prophet healed is now called ’Ain es-Sultân, and gushes forth from the base of a double mound. The water is cool and sweet, and, after pouring into a large semicircular reservoir, flows in random streamlets to the Jordan. Less than three miles to the northwest is the more copious fountain of ’Ain Dûk, supplied from two springs bursting out of the southern bank of Wady en-Narwaimeh. The water is conducted by an aqueduct along the base of Quarantania to sugar-mills half a mile distant from ’Ain es-Sultân; but, as the mills are now in ruins, this fine stream performs no higher work than to water a few gardens of cucumbers in the vicinity of its source and along its course. Around these springs are strewn the remains of the celebrated Castle of Doch, in which Simon Maccabæus was murdered by his son-in-law Ptolemy.[259] Abandoning the site of the ancient city, Herod the Great founded the Jericho of the New Testament on the banks of the Cherith, a mile and a half to the south. Around it were the palm-groves and balsam-gardens which Antony presented to Cleopatra, and which the Idumean farmed of the Egyptian queen.[260] Selecting it as one of his royal cities, Herod adorned it with a palace, a hippodrome, and other magnificent buildings. Here he entertained Cleopatra in a sumptuous manner, and here he terminated his life. From this palace he was borne, amid unrivaled funeral pomp, over the southern plain, and up to the wild pass of Nukb el-Kuneiterah, to be interred on the summit of Herodium, in the splendid mausoleum which he himself had constructed at great expense during his reign.[261] More than thirty years after the death of this royal monster, Jericho was visited by Christ, in his frequent tours from the Land of Moab to Judea. Here resided the rich publican Zaccheus, with whom Jesus lodged; by the side of some of its thoroughfares blind Bartimeus sat, whom the compassionate Savior restored to sight; and from scenes so tender he ascended to Jerusalem, to make his triumphal entry into the Holy City.[262]

Not two miles to the southeast is the Arab town of Rîha. It is small and filthy, and contains a few hovels occupied by from fifty to one hundred inhabitants, who are guilty of the sins of Sodom. Within a rude court-yard is the only reservoir of the village, and near it stands a rough stone tower thirty feet square and forty high. It is the barrack of the Turkish garrison, stationed here for the protection of the government lands, for the defense of the peasants of the Ghôr, to collect the taxes imposed upon the miserable villagers, to punish offenders, and to serve as the escort of travelers _en route_ for the Jordan and the Dead Sea. Though bearing the name of Jericho, it is more probably the site of ancient Gilgal. In view of the silence of historians on the point, it is impossible now to decide whether Gilgal was the name of a city or the designation of a tract of land, though the former is more in harmony with the scriptural account of the place. Accepting Josephus as authority, Gilgal was ten stadia, or less than a mile and a half, from Jericho, and fifty stadia, or more than six miles, from the Jordan.[263] The old Tower of Rîha coincides in its location with this description, and may be regarded as indicating with sufficient accuracy the scene of so many memorable events. Few names in sacred history recall scenes more thrilling and momentous than Gilgal. Removing the twelve monumental stones from the bed of the Jordan, Joshua caused them to be placed here as the memorial of the miraculous dividing of the river;[264] around them the Israelites first pitched their tents within the Promised Land;[264] here they rolled away the reproach of Egypt by the renewal of the rite of circumcision;[265] here they kept the Passover for the first time in Canaan;[266] here Joshua saw, in a day-vision, the captain of the Lord’s host “standing over against him with his sword drawn in his hand;”[267] and here the tabernacle was first set up in Palestine, where it remained till removed to Shiloh.[268] Four centuries later Samuel held his court nigh unto this ruined tower, and offered sacrifices for the people then assembled.[269] Here Saul of Gibeah was made King of Israel,[270] and two years thereafter, upon the very spot of his coronation, he lost his kingdom by acting “foolishly.”[271] After the death of Absalom the tribe of Judah assembled here to hail the return of David.[272] And here, in the reign of Jehoram, Elisha healed the poisoned pot,[273] restored Naaman to health, and cursed Gehazi with leprosy for his cupidity.[274]

The sun rose upon the Plains of Jericho after our first night’s slumber among the Arabs of the Ghôr, reflecting a pale yellow light through dense masses of mist which obscured from view the summits of the distant mountains. Ascending the loftiest spur of Quarantania, a landscape of extraordinary character lay before me. Stretching from the northern shore of the Lake of Tiberias to the southern coast of the Dead Sea, the valley of the Lower Jordan unfolded to the eye its manifold and marvelous features. A hundred and twenty miles in length, ten in breadth, and 1312 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, it is among the greatest geological wonders of the globe. From sea to sea lofty mountains bound this great chasm on either side. Rising thousands of feet above the river terrace, the Moab range forms the eastern wall of the great valley, while the Heights of Galilee, the Mountains of Samaria, and the Hills of Judea run along its western border. Broken and barren, the sides of these mountains are furrowed with deep ravines, the frequented passes to the plains below. As far as the eye can reach, the deep, tortuous bed of the Jordan is seen along its eastern side, the turbid waters of which remain unseen till viewed from the second terrace of the stream. The broadest portion of the Jordan valley, the Plain of Jericho is not unlike in form a vast semicircle. Not ten miles long, it is less than eight broad from the roots of the western mountains to the banks of the river. On the south is the Dead Sea, on the east the Jordan, on the north are the Hills of Judea dipping into the rushing river, and on the west is Quarantania rising 2000 feet above its base. Level in the centre, but gently undulating toward the north and south, it has a soil of inexhaustible fertility; and abundantly watered by its numerous fountains, its groves of zukkûm, its beautiful willows, its verdant meadows, its flowers and rank weeds growing luxuriantly, sustain the scriptural allusion to “Jericho, the city of palm-trees,”[275] and the prophetic blessing, the promise of perennial fruitfulness.[276] Such was its fertility in the “Middle Ages,” that the cultivation of the sugar-cane, with other products, yielded the nuns of Bethany an annual revenue of $25,000,[277] and by the application of scientific agriculture, would again become, in the language of Josephus, a “divine region.”[278]

Illustration: PLAIN OF JERICHO AND VIEW OF THE DEAD SEA
FROM THE NORTH.

Called Quarantania to indicate the forty days during which the Son of God endured the assaults of the Evil One upon its summit, the Mount of Temptation is sterile and gloomy. The rocks are white and naked; the sides are perforated with the cells of hermits, who, retiring from society, hope by the rigors of a solitary life to obtain a better world; and the summit is crowned with a small chapel, the only monument of the Redeemer’s triumph over the Prince of Darkness. In the lower caves some wild Bedouins, with their families, had taken refuge, and near them were shepherds keeping their scanty flocks.

The sun had mounted high above the thick mists, which at an earlier hour had veiled his brightness, when I returned to the encampment. Weary in waiting my return, the caravan had moved, and I was left alone among the “thieves of Jericho.” The sight of a revolver extorted from a skulking Arab the direction the party had taken, and applying whip and spur, I dashed through the jungle on the banks of the Cherith, and in half an hour rejoined it. On reaching Rîha we obtained an additional escort. Our military guard now consisted of six soldiers――five Bedouins and their sheikh. Though wild in their exterior, there was a rude grandeur in the soldiers of Rîha. Each wore a loose garment of camel’s hair, with openings in the side for the free play of the arms, a pair of rough sandals on his otherwise naked feet, and a bright-colored shawl of Broosa silk thrown carelessly on the head, and held firmly by an elastic cord, the ends of the shawl hanging loosely down. Each carried a brace of pistols and a pair of daggers in his girdle; over the shoulder was slung a long gun, by the side dangled a Damascus blade, and in the hand was borne a lance fifteen feet long. The saddle of each was large, with the bow terminating front and rear in a pommel. The stirrups were of sheet iron, fourteen inches long and seven wide, gently curving, the lateral edges turned upward. Each was mounted on a small but swift and spirited horse, and the captain of the band was followed by a pack of hounds used for hunting gazelles. Their speed was wonderful. Proud of their splendid horsemanship and willing to excite our admiration, these rude soldiers of the Desert gave proof of their marvelous skill and daring, darting forward with the suddenness and celerity of the thunderbolt over hill, through gully, over rocks, through briers, over streams, through thickets, tilting the spear as they rode, as if to plunge it into some advancing foe.

For half an hour our path lay through a jungle of thorny shrubs, beyond which was an open plain. The day was glorious; the air balmy; the sun shone through a gauze-like haze; the leafy songsters, from their sylvan coverts along the streamlets, “caroled the melody of their song.” Our horses were fleet, our spirits buoyant, and over that noble plain we rode with unbounded delight. Both in kind and richness the soil varied as we advanced. Now it was barren and covered with a thin, smooth, nitrous crust, through which we sank as in ashes; again it was rich, bearing groves of fruit-trees, tufts of the feathery tamarisk, and beautiful oleanders, with their finger-like leaves and tulip-shaped flowers. At ten A.M. we reached the first terrace, or highest bank of the Jordan, composed of irregular hills of clay, and measuring twenty feet deep. Here our soldiers sallied forth, plunging into the dense thickets and sweeping like lightning around the hills to discover the robbers and save us from surprise. In fifteen minutes more we had descended to the second terrace, and five minutes thereafter we stood on the banks of the most sacred and renowned river in the world. Other rivers are deeper, broader, longer, but the Jordan is unsurpassed in the peculiarities of its source, the sinuosities of its channel, the glories of its history. Springing from the heart of anti-Libanus, ten crystal fountains pour their eternal waters into its descending current. From the base of snow-capped Hermon three noble fountains send their united contributions southward, feeding the River Hasbâny. Situated forty miles to the north from the head of Lake Tiberias, the first is the Fountain Fuarr, at Hasbeîya, and is the remotest perennial source of the Jordan; the second is called Sareid, located south of Kefr Shubah; the third is Luisany, near El-Ghujar. Eighteen miles to the south from Hasbeîya is the largest permanent fountain in the world, known as El-Leddân. Its pure waters gush forth from the foot of the green hill of El-Kâdy, and, after forming a pool, they flow southward in a broad stream, increased in its course by many rills creeping from beneath noble oaks, and at length it joins the Hasbâny seven miles north of Lake Merom. Four miles to the east from El-Kâdy is the Fountain of Banias, next in size to that of El-Leddân, but which, unlike the latter, originates in many rivulets, which, uniting, rush on to a confluence with the Leddân, and, a mile below the junction, join the Hasbâny. Farther to the south the fountains of Derdara, Ruahiny, and those of Belât, Blâta, and El-Mellâhah, unite with the same stream, which, after flowing southward for six miles over the lovely Plain of Hûleh, spreads out into Lake Merom, on whose shores Joshua achieved his final triumph over the banded kings of Canaan.[279] Four and a half miles in length and three and a half in breadth, this gem of the lakes is the first gathering together of the waters of the Jordan from their perennial springs. The lake having a triangular form, the river issues through the apex, and, after running nine miles with a fall of 650 feet, expands into the Sea of Galilee, which is thirteen miles long and six wide. The inlet to the sea is seventy feet broad, and the waters, flowing between alluvial banks, are lazy and turbid. Purified in their passage through this second reservoir of the Jordan, they find an outlet in the southwest corner of the sea. Here the river is more than ninety feet wide, the banks are high and round, and the contiguous mountains rugged and barren. Half unwilling to leave the parent waters to take the headlong leap over twenty-seven rapids to the Sea of Death, the Jordan turns back upon itself; but, forced at length to return by the unyielding rocks, it cuts a channel westward, then west by south, when, impelled by the unchanging law of gravitation, it rushes madly southward, foaming and leaping downward 700 feet in less than sixty miles. Though, between the seas as the crow flies, the actual distance is not more than sixty miles, yet, owing to the infinite multiplication of its windings, it is more than 200 miles in length. The tortuous glen through which it flows varies in breadth from 200 to 600 yards, and in depth from fifty to eighty below the surrounding plain. The sides of the glen are abrupt and broken, composed of marl and clay intermixed with limestone. Where it is widest, the bottom is mud covered with reeds; where it is narrowest, it is rock and sand. Along its banks grow in rich profusion the scarlet anemone, the yellow marigold, the water-lily, the feathery tamarisk, the pink oleander, the Syrian thistle with its gorgeous purple blossom, and cane-reeds, oaks, willows, and wild pistachios. Amid foliage so rich and rare are birds of exquisite plumage and variant song. Disporting in the water are herons and ducks; dancing from bower to bower are sparrows, swallows, and nightingales; wheeling their tireless flight over stream and shrub are eagles, partridges, hawks, and snipes, while storks spread their vast wings along the banks, and

“The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.”

In the deep, impenetrable jungle, extending for miles in depth along either bank, is now, as formerly, the hiding-place of the leopard, the wild boar, and tiger.

In color the Jordan is not unlike the Tiber. In breadth it varies from eighty to 240 feet; in depth it is from two to sixteen feet; in motion it flows from two to twelve knots an hour, bearing on its yellow bosom, as it rolls to the sea, the débris of northern forests. In its descent there are wild cascades, down which the foaming torrent leaps eleven feet, at the rate of twelve miles an hour. Throughout its sinuous course there are twenty-seven rapids, some of which are 900 feet long, and the shallow waters foam as they pass over the large boulders of sandstone and trap. Below the longest rapid there is a series of five falls, having a descent of eighteen feet, with rapids between them; and at El-Bŭk’ah there is a whirlpool grand and dangerous. At intervals, where the channel is deep and free from rocks, a boat might glide with ease and pleasure. In the broader portions of the river bed there are islands, some barren, others verdant and flowery. Near the four well-known fords are the remains of old mills, with their sluices, and the ruins of ancient bridges of Roman construction, pointing us back to a better civilization, and reflecting the genius, industry, and utility of a former age. At Semakh, a mile south of the Lake of Tiberias, are the abutments of a fine bridge of ninety feet span, and at Zurka are the remains of a nobler structure.

Illustration: SHOOTING THE RAPIDS.

Midway the two seas the Brook Jabbok flows into the Jordan. Descending through a deep ravine, amid the loftiest of the Ajlûn range, its volume is swelled by the mountain torrents, rendering it at times impassable. Its banks are fringed with tamarisks and oleanders, the clustering flower of the latter imparting a gorgeous aspect to the scene. As three thousand years ago the Jabbok was the boundary between the kingdoms of Sihon and of Og,[280] so this modern Zurka is the dividing line between the province of Belka and that of Ajlûn. Somewhere on its banks occurred one of those thrilling events so common in the patriarchal history. Coming from the distant home of Laban, enriched with the rewards of twenty years’ industry, and blessed with a numerous family of children and servants, the patriarch Jacob halted on the northern bank of the Jabbok, and that night wrestled with an angel. And as the light of the coming day dawned, down the glens and sides of the southern mountain the chieftain of Seir came, with his four hundred warriors. Hoping to appease Esau’s anger by the gentleness of his manner, Jacob crossed the brook, and, forgetting the enmities of boyhood, the twin brothers embraced and were reconciled. Parting, Esau returned to his mountain home, and, fording the Jordan here, Jacob ascended by the beautiful Tirzah, and dwelt in the Vale of Shechem.[281]

Centuries later, this brook was the scene of events less peaceful. Obeying the heroic Gideon, the men of Ephraim took possession of this ford and slew the fugitive Midianites;[282] and ninety years thereafter the Gileadites under Jephthah, descending from their native mountains, held the passage of the stream, and slew every Ephraimite whose betraying tongue could not correctly pronounce the password Shibboleth.[283]

The Pilgrim’s Ford, opposite Jericho, is no less enchanting in its natural scenery than it is memorable for its sacred associations. A hundred feet wide and twelve deep, the Jordan sweeps by at the rate of six knots an hour. From this point to the Dead Sea the river retains its general peculiarities of sinuosity, of color, of rapidity, of banks, and foliage. The inlet to the Asphaltic Lake is three feet deep and 540 wide, and here is the third and largest reservoir of the Jordan――its first and only stage of rest. Here it ends.

This being an ancient ford, the western bank is worn down to the water’s edge by the tread of many generations. On either side willows bend their graceful limbs to touch the rapid stream, tamarisks wave gently in the soft zephyrs, oleanders bloom amid foliage of lighter and deeper green, and the crystal streamlet from Rîha flows into the turbulent Jordan among trees of statelier form. A little to the south the banks are steep, and the bottom is soft and covered with weeds and lacerating briers. Directly opposite, the Mountains of Moab rise in all their rugged grandeur, with their sides broken by deep ravines and their summits veiled in a purple haze. Forgotten in the lapse of time, yet somewhere on those loftier peaks were the high places of Baal,[284] the “field of Zophim,”[285] and the “top of Peor,”[286] whither Balak led Balaam to curse Israel. From those summits of vision the prophet of Pethor looked down upon the Lord’s chosen people, but could not “count the dust of Jacob.”[287] He beheld them “crouching like a lion,”[288] and, in the rapture of his song, exclaimed, “How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy tabernacles, O Israel.”[289] Under more auspicious circumstances, a greater than Balaam surveyed the Land of Promise from Pisgah’s top.[290] Turning northward, “his eye that was not dim” swept the land of Gilead unto the icy crown of Hermon; turning westward, he beheld the distant hills of Naphtali standing out against the sky; nearer, he saw the possessions of Ephraim and Manasseh; directly before him was the Land of Judah and Benjamin, the City of the Great King, and the blue waters of the Mediterranean beyond; while at his feet lay the rich plain of Jericho, the “city of palm-trees,” the first conquest of the triumphant arms of Joshua. In his tent, or in some retired glen, or on some solitary peak, the son of Amram wrote most of his inspired history; and yonder, when the work of his wondrous life was finished, when the farewell view of the goodly Canaan had been completed, when he had given his final blessing to Eleazar the priest, to Joshua the warrior, “Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord; and he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.”[291] A tomb so vast was worthy of the worldwide influence of his life, and the Mountains of Moab are the appropriate monument of a character so pure and a name so great.

The tradition that identifies this ford as the place where the Israelites crossed the Jordan is supported by the clear and simple statement that they “passed over right against Jericho.”[292] The crossing, however, could not have been confined to this limited space. Here probably the priests crossed, while the multitude sought a passage at every feasible point between the city of Adam, thirty miles to the north, and the Dead Sea, five miles to the south. To facilitate the crossing, this long section of the river-bed became dry, which was necessitated both by the millions of people to cross, and also by the impassableness of many portions of the banks. The rendezvous was opposite Jericho, and as the swarming millions came up the western bank, they turned northward and southward toward a common centre. Bearing the ark of the covenant, the priests led the van, and as their feet touched the water, “the waters which came down from above stood and rose up upon an heap very far from the city of Adam, that is, beside Zaretan; and those that came down toward the sea of the plain, even the salt sea, failed and were cut off, and the people passed over right against Jericho.”[293] Unlike the dividing of the Red Sea, this was the cutting off or damming up of the waters on the north; and the miracle is the more wonderful, as at that time the river was more than ordinarily full. The incidental allusion that the “Jordan overfloweth all his banks all the time of harvest”[294] is equally true at the present day. In the tropical climate of the Jordan Valley the harvest is many weeks earlier than on the mountains 1300 feet above it. Barley harvest occurring here in the middle of March and wheat harvest about three weeks later, it is evident that the allusion refers to the harvest-time of the Jericho plain. At this time of year the Jordan annually rises to the fullness of its banks, and not unfrequently overflows them; and, though occurring in the dry season of the year, the rise is owing to the melting snows on Mount Hermon, and also to the heavy winter rains, which, having previously fallen on the Hermon range, and by March having percolated the sides of the mountains, begin to swell the springs within them, which, being the sources of the Jordan, then commence and for weeks continue to pour an increased volume into the river channel, permitting the traveler of to-day to behold the filling up and overflowing of the sacred river as it overflowed all its banks three thousand years ago.

More than five centuries later, the Jordan was here twice divided in one day――once for the safe passage of Elijah and Elisha to the land of Moab, and again for the return of the latter to Jericho;[295] and, two years subsequently, here the proud Naaman bathed his leprous person and was made whole. To one unacquainted with the three rivers mentioned in connection with his cure, there is the appearance of pride and contempt in his language; but in recalling, in the moment of disappointment and chagrin, the clear waters of the Abana and Pharphar, in contrast with the yellow, turbulent waters of the Jordan, the Syrian warrior but indicated the correctness of his taste in preferring the “rivers of Damascus to all the waters of Israel.”[296] But after a cure so miraculous, notwithstanding its inferior beauty, the Jordan must have been to him the noblest and most sacred of rivers.

As the baptismal station of John the Baptist, and the scene of our Lord’s baptism, the Christian contemplates this traditional spot with deeper, sweeter interest. But, however sincere and intense may be the desire to identify the scene of an event so hallowed, it is difficult to ascertain with certainty where that greatest of all baptisms occurred. In general terms, St. Luke describes John as coming into “all the country about Jordan;”[297] but, with great precision, St. John designates two stations of the great Baptist: “Bethabara, beyond Jordan,”[298] and “Ænon, near Salim.”[299] Signifying “The House of Passage,” Bethabara may have been the name of some well-known ford; but the most eminent critics agree that Bethany should be inserted in the text in the place of Bethabara.[300] Finding it difficult to discover a Bethany beyond the Jordan, Origen, in the early part of the third century, changed the reading, and others, following his version, place Bethabara near the Brook Jabbok, on the east, and Ænon on the west, eight miles southeast from Bethshean.[301]

Such locations, however, leave Southern Palestine without a baptismal station. Born in the south, and from his Judean home called to the great work of his mission, John’s ministry was commenced in the “wilderness of Judea.”[302] His first hearers were those of the Jewish capital and of its adjacent towns: “Then went out unto him Jerusalem, and all Judea, and all the region round about Jordan.”[303] Preferring a journey of six hours to one of two days, the people of the south would naturally descend to this traditional ford, where the Baptist as naturally would be waiting to receive them. And where else should Jesus be baptized but where his ancient people had crossed the “swellings of Jordan,” and nigh unto the capital of his kingdom, whose citizens had just received his forerunner?

Having prepared the way of the Messiah in Judea, and to accommodate the multitudes of the north, and prepare them for the reception of the promised Christ, John ascended the river to the mouth of the Jabbok, where he baptized the inhabitants of Samaria; and ascending thirty miles farther, to the ruined bridge of Semakh, he baptized the people of Galilee. His mission accomplished in Southern, Central, and Northern Palestine, and compelled to leave the Jordan at that season of the year to seek water suitable to drink, John removed to the fountains of Ænon, eight Roman miles southeast from Scythopolis, where there was “much water,” and where he baptized “strangers,” and those who had failed to attend his ministry at the river. His latter days were spent in the north, and mostly in Tiberias, the royal city of Galilee, where, true to his high calling, he reproved Herod Antipas for his connubial infidelity, for which he was imprisoned and beheaded in the Castle of Machaerus, near the scene of his earlier labors.

The sun was rapidly approaching the zenith when we left the ford for the Dead Sea. To avoid a detour, and also to shun the banks of the river, which, from their softness and steepness, are never safe, we crossed diagonally the great plain extending to the sea. The heat was intense; not a breath of air was stirring; neither shrub nor flower appeared to gladden the eye; no fountain was nigh to moisten our parched lips. A deep purple haze veiled earth and sky, obscuring the view of Moab and the peaks of Engedi; and over that vast plateau of unrelieved desolation was spread a white sulphurous crust, reflecting the light and heat. Near the mouth of the Jordan a band of Bedouin ruffians were holding an ominous consultation, and keenly watching our movements. From the head of the caravan came the shrill voice of the sheikh to “close ranks,” while two soldiers dashed into the jungle to ascertain the design of the council. Intimidating the robbers by threats, they returned, assuring us that no attack would be made, but advising us to keep close together. At noon we stood upon the northern shore of the Dead Sea. Owing to the thick haze that obscured the mountains, it seemed shoreless. The smooth waters lay like molten silver, silent and motionless, sparkling in the sunlight and dazzling to the sight. It was death robed in light. The waters are clear as crystal and exceedingly brilliant, and, though intensely salt, they are so soft that a bath in them is like bathing in oil. When midway my person I began to rise, and yielding to the soft hands that bore me up, I reclined as upon the softest down. To sink was impossible; to float required no effort; to read, converse, sleep, was easy. Where the cuticle was bruised or broken a smarting sensation was experienced, and for ten hours after the bath the hair remained stiff and the body felt as if it had been lubricated with oil. Gently sloping toward the sea, the northern coast consists of sand and blackened pebbles, and over its entire breadth are strewn quantities of drift-wood, such as willow twigs, broken canes, and poplar branches, thrown up by the violence of the waves when the sea is in commotion. Higher up is a terrace of bitumen, soft and slippery, and not unlike black clay. Neither shrub, flower, nor blade of grass, nor shell, can be found on all that lengthened beach.

Illustration: DEAD SEA.

Occupying the lowest portion of the Jordan Valley, the Dead Sea is forty miles long, from five to nine wide, and from two to 1308 feet deep. Its greatest depth is 2620 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, and 5220 below the site of Jerusalem. Having its greatest width midway the sea, from Ain Jidy to the River Arnon, it is most shallow at its southern extremity, and deepest in its northern section, southwest from the thermal waters of Callirrhoe. Not many yards from the eastern cliffs it is more than one hundred and seventy fathoms deep.

Geologically considered, the profound cavity containing this inland sea must be coeval with the conformation of the Jordan Valley on the north and the Valley of ’Arabah on the south. This mighty chasm must always have been the bed of a great lake, receiving the waters of the Jordan and the mountain torrents, together with those of the living springs which abound along the margin of the vale. Though much smaller then than now, both Abraham and Lot must have looked down upon its waters. Originally confined within its deeper bed, it has passed its primal limits by some convulsion or atmospheric phenomena as yet unknown. The great difference in its depth, from a third of a fathom to two hundred and eighteen fathoms, together with the record of Moses that the “plain of Jordan was well watered every where before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt as thou comest unto Zoar,”[304] sufficiently indicates that the more shallow portions now overflown were once the rich green fields so tempting to the eyes of Lot.[305] According to authentic history, this vale was one of the cradles of the earliest civilization, not only containing the five royal cities that were destroyed, but also the cities of the Phœnicians, who, afterward removing to Tyre and Sidon, rose to greatness in art, science, and commerce. Its present desolation is due to natural causes, some of which are still apparent, and though its waters must always have been more or less salt, and its coasts must always have abounded in bitumen pits, yet these are not inconsistent with the richness of its plains, as attested by sacred and profane writers.

Though the receptacle of the perennial Jordan and of springs that never fail, and though without an outlet its mighty caldron is never filled to overflowing, and its waters have but a slight perceptible rise and fall. Situated 1312 feet below the level of the Mediterranean, and shut in by high barren mountains of limestone, its supply never exceeds the demand made by its rapid evaporation. With the Gulf of Akaba thirty-five feet above the Mediterranean, it is inconceivable how the Dead Sea could ever have flowed southward over the plain of ’Arabah to mingle its waters with those of the Red Sea; and this impossibility is the more apparent from the fact that the waters of ’Arabah flow into the Dead Sea from a water-shed midway between the two seas. Such curious facts at once disprove the hypothesis either that there is a subterranean outlet on the south, or that, prior to the fall of Sodom, the waters of the Jordan flowed in a river channel through the “Vale of Siddim” to mingle with those of the Indian Ocean. Evaporation was then, as now, the only outlet.

With the exception of a few semicircular plains, the “Salt Sea” covers the entire breadth of the vale, in many places the mountains dipping into the waters without a footpath along the shore. At the northwest corner there is a neck of land extending into the lake, which, when the water is low by increased evaporation, is a peninsula, but at high water its extreme point is a small island, covered with ruins of great antiquity, consisting of heaps of unhewn stones, some of which retain their original position in the foundation of a building whose history is unknown; and at the southeast angle of the sea, near the ravine of Kerak, is a low, broad promontory or cape, extending four miles to the north up the centre of the lake. Wherever a brackish fountain trickles down the hill-side, and flows over those little plains formed by the receding mountains, there shrubs grow, flowers bloom as in more genial climes, birds sing sweetly as in more enchanting bowers, and the Arab, with the traveler, pitches his tent, unaffected by the fancied deadly exhalations from the poisonous sea, which only exist in the stories of poet and romancer.

The mountains that bound the Asphaltic Lake on the east and west are as remarkable for their native grandeur as for their historic associations. Those on the east are portions of the Moab and Edom ranges; the one descending from the north and the other ascending from the south, are separated midway the sea by the sublime chasm of El-Môjib. The former is composed of sandstone, with sections of limestone, and with dikes and seams of trap rock, over which are scattered quantities of post-tertiary lava, pumice-stone, and volcanic slag; the latter is in part sandstone with strata of limestone; while at the extreme south there is a post-tertiary deposit of carbonate of lime, with sandstone disintegrated, and with a mixture of sulphur and gypsum. Rising from 2000 to 3000 feet high, the eastern range is rugged and barren, and, from a peculiarity in the atmosphere, is perpetually veiled in a purple haze. The sides are broken by twelve ravines desolate and wild. Less than ten miles from the northeast angle of the sea, at the mouth of Wady Zŭrka Ma’in, are the warm springs of Callirrhoe, sending forth, between grand and lofty sandstone cliffs, a copious stream, in whose thermal waters Herod the Great sought, in vain, relief from his loathsome disease. It is twelve feet wide, ten inches deep, and has a temperature of 95° Fahrenheit. Its banks are lined with canes and tamarisks, and the pebbles are tinged with the sulphurous waters. The chasm is 112 feet wide, and from eighty to 150 high, through which the torrent sweeps to the sea at the rate of six knots an hour. High up the ravine is a pretty cascade, with a perpendicular fall of six feet, and below it the foaming waters rush over a succession of rapids. In this sublime glen purple flowers bloom, and ravens and butterflies wing their tireless flight. On the very brow of the northern cliff stood the famous fortress of Machaerus, where John the Baptist was beheaded.[306] Two miles to the south, on the borders of a little streamlet, is a grove of thirty date-palm-trees; three miles farther is a bright cascade, whose sparkling waters leap into the sea from the very mountain summit; and five miles beyond is the ancient river Arnon, on whose banks Balak met Balaam,[307] and which was the southern boundary-line of the Amorites, whose dominion ran northward to the Jabbok. This tract of land Moses conquered from Sihon,[308] and for it the Ammonites fought with Jephthah[309] while it was possessed by the tribes of Reuben and Gad.[310] The Arnon is a tributary to the sea, eighty-two feet wide, four deep, and one hundred wide at its mouth. The vast fissure through which it falls is ninety-seven feet wide, and varies from 100 to 400 feet high. The cliffs are red, yellow, and brown sandstone, and, worn by the winds and rains, resemble Egyptian architecture. In graceful curves the ravine winds inward, and in its profound depths are huge boulders, which have fallen from the summit above. Along the border of the torrent a few shrubs grow, and gazelles descend to drink of its limpid waters. Fifteen miles to the south, on a summit 3000 feet above the sea, stands the ancient city of Kerak, containing more than 3000 inhabitants, about equally divided into Christians and Moslems, which is renowned in the history of Jewish wars as the city whose king, in a moment of desperation, rather than surrender to King Jehoram, offered up his eldest son upon the town wall as a burnt-sacrifice, so disgusting the Israelites as to compel them to raise the siege.[311] From the mountain of Kerak a wild ravine leads down to the reputed ruins of Zoar, near the shore, to which Lot fled when commanded to fly to the mountains above.[312]