SENSE OF SOLITUDE. 47 seems to be sustained by the description of Joshua, xiii. 3: “From Sihor, which is before Egypt, unto the borders of Ekron northward, which is counted to the Canaanites." But I am not geographer enough to discuss such points. The existence of these bridges, as it seems to me, clearly points out the spot where, formerly, the road between Egypt and Syria must have passed; and if so, the probable route of the Holy Family was here. At any rate, these proofs of a frequented way naturally turned my thoughts to them. At the present time, it is little travelled, except by pilgrims to the holy city; the commercial intercourse between Syria and Egypt being chiefly carried on by sea. The whole of this day, we met but one small company, of three or four travellers on foot. Occasionally, the sense of solitude was quite depressing; for no living or moving thing could be seen beyond our caravan, except the lizard of the desert gliding out of our way, and now and then a silent, solitary, melancholy-looking little bird. There was no sound but the measured tramp of our camels and the tinkling bell of the leader; for, in the heat of the day, the talk and song of Your Arabs were stilled. The 25th was Sunday, and we journeyed on as usual, only making an earlier stop. The question of travelling on this day, we had before settled, in conference with our friend, the Rev. Mr. Lieder, at Cairo. 48 SABBATH IN THE DESERT. We considered that, to keep our camels, now beginning to require water, another day from the well, which was only some hours' distance from us, would be preferring sacrifice to mercy. Our Lord's-day offering of prayer and praise we did not, however, entirely omit, but brought it, I trust, with feelings not less devout than if we had been in a consecrated temple, and with an interest enlivened even by the peculiarity of our situation. We had kept out our Bibles and Prayer Books; and, at a suitable time, we contrived to make our dromedaries move on, side by side, and thus read together the morning service. Never did I more truly appreciate the devotional power and beauty of our responsive liturgy, and its admirable adaptation to social worship, than as my friend and I thus repeated it aloud, on our way through the şilent desert. In the afternoon, when the two trains drew near and halted for the night, we united with our companions in one of the tents, and celebrated the evening prayer together. As we drew near to Katéëh, the camels moved with a quicker step. Our attendants, who had been silent, and almost flagging in their pace through the heavy sand and under a broiling sun, began to be lively and loquacious. There was water there-water! water! Or, as the Arabs called out, Móie hel'wa! móie hel'wa!-fresh water! fresh water! The very sound seemed like a cooling breeze upon one's parched brow, and a cordial to one's fainting spirits. "Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, No wonder that the Scriptures and Oriental poetry are full of fresh and invigorating allusions to brooks, and streams, and rivers of water; for, whoever has known the pangs of thirst in the desert, can heartily cry out, from a full soul, in such words as burst from the lips of the Greek poet ἄριστον μέν ὕδωρ. Truly the best of things is water. We had not, indeed, been deprived of this chief necessary of life, but our supply had become warm and discoloured, and tasted strongly of the skins and casks. The exclamation, therefore, was a cheering one to us. But, if you anticipate that we are coming to a spring gushing from the earth, and running off in a babbling brook, fringed with green, or to a deep well, from which rises a mosscovered bucket," all cool and dripping, to seize hold upon with our swollen and heated hands, and press to our parched lips, you will be disappointed in a greater degree than we were, for we had been 66 somewhat prepared. The well is merely a deep pit, with sides built up with bricks. It is some ten or twelve feet in diameter, and about fifteen deep; and the water, which did not cover the whole surface, but seemed to flow into a small hollow on one side, was quite brackish to our taste. The camels, however, drank of it freely; and it appeared to be by no means unpleasant to the Arabs. The water was drawn up in buckets, and poured into a trough for the animals; and the work was done, as is usual with Arabs, to the measure of a song. I could get but an imperfect translation of it from one of our dragomen, as he had not English enough at command. It ran in this way: "Allah be praised! He sends us water. Here I am, poor camel, to draw for you; and, if I had nothing else to draw it up with, I would take even my shirt for your sake!" This is the first water our camels have tasted since their leaving Cairo five days ago. 26th, Monday. The desert has somewhat changed its character. We have no longer a firm footing, but often wade through heavy sands. Our course brought us near to the sea; and once, from the summit of a sand-hill, we caught a distant view of the Mediterranean. Not far from this, as we toiled through a valley, bounded, towards the west, by a high ridge of sand, we saw a number of people, men and women, with camels, asses, sheep, and goats, around some pits, fresh dug; others were WELL OF THE SLAVE. 51 scooping up the sand with their hands into baskets, and removing it. This is done to an Arab song, which seems to be a sort of responsive chant. The person digging sings, "Allah a ma wil fater," or, "God, we give thee praise;" and the one carrying the sand away replies, "El moié ta wil hater" -" and do thou give us water." After thus digging down a foot or two, water flows freely into the hollow. We tasted it; but, though drinkable, it was brackish, as well as turbid. It seemed, however, to be much prized, not only by the thirsty animals, but the Beddoween women were provided with vessels, and carried it away to their encampment. This place was called Beer el abd, or the "Well of the Slave;" but for what reason, I could not learn. The desert scenery changes again. The mounds of sand become more frequent and higher, and have lengthened valleys between them. Occasionally small clumps of palm-trees, with their naked stems and feathery tops, refresh the eye. How they should spring up from the very sand, seems remarkable. It is said that they grow from the stones of dates thrown away by travellers, who have in former times encamped on these spots, and that the instinct of the vital principle in these seeds, discovering that there is water at no great distance below, the root is sent down to find it; then the tree shoots out joyously above, and flourishes, and in gratitude to |