HEAP OF STONES OVER ROBBER'S GRAVE.

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occasion I spent a night, for the sake of protection, at a village a few miles north-east of these mills, called Sindiâneh-the name no doubt derived from the oak woods which surround it.

I had a delightful ramble early the next morning in those grand old forests, and then understood perfectly how Absalom could be caught by the thick branches of an oak. The strong arms of these trees spread out so near the ground that one cannot walk erect beneath them; and on a frightened mule, such a head of hair as that vain but wicked son polled every year would certainly become inextricably entangled: and it is interesting to know that the region east of the Jordan, that "wood of Ephraim" where the battle was fought, is still covered with thick oaks, tangled bushes, and thorny creepers growing over ragged rocks, and ruinous precipices, down which the rebel army plunged in wild dismay, horses and men crushing each other to death in remediless ruin. Thus twenty thousand men perished in that fatal wood, which "devoured more people that day than the sword devoured.""

That "very great heap of stones" over the pit into which Absalom was thrown was not raised in honor of the king's son, but in detestation of the traitor's enormous crime; and you will find miniature heaps of the same kind and significance all over the country. It is a wide-spread custom for each one, as he passes the spot where any notorious murderer has been buried, to cast a stone upon it. I have often seen this done, and, yielding to the popular indignation, have thrown my stone with the rest.

I am reminded of all this by the conduct of some of the muleteers yesterday, who actually dismounted to spit upon such a heap, and add their pebble to the growing pile. They said the wretch who lay buried there was a robber who infested the road, and committed many cruel murders, and used the incident to enforce their admonitions upon us to keep together in that part of our ride.

The early light began to reveal the character of the scene around me; the country from north to south was buried under a dense, lowlying fog, which left the many-shaped hill-tops peering above it like green islets on the surface of a placid lake. When the sun arose, this silvery sea, as if startled by some invisible spirit, became agi1 2 Sam. xviii. 6-17.

tated in an extraordinary manner, and great pyramids of shining vapor burst up from beneath, swelling higher and higher among the oaks until it escaped through their thick boughs, and vanished away in the clear vault of heaven. All this commotion and gorgeous display I found was owing to a brisk breeze which came up the valley from the sea at Cæsarea. Acting from below, and itself turned about by every bend and swell of the hills, it swayed and twisted the yielding vapor according to its own eccentric will. Such fogs are quite common on the great plains along the coast, as we shall see in the land of the Philistines. The night had been clear, and rather cool for the season, and the dew rolled off the tent that morning like rain, and the early sunbeams "sprinkled the earth with pearls and diamonds," as Milton's muse describes those pendent drops that glitter and sparkle from every leaf in the forest and blade in the field. There was a village on my left called Khubbaizeh, the Arabic name for the malva, the Hebrew nearly for the rose, and both malvas and wild roses adorn that sweet vale. Many other hamlets repose in those glorious woods, but we need not load our memories with their obscure and ignoble names.

Having left Sindiâneh, I came to a place bearing the ominous name of 'Ain el Meiyiteh-Dead Fountain; and the tell east of it is Sit Leîla, a name more frequently heard in Arab song than any other. We now turned westwards towards Cæsarea, leaving the main road, which keeps on southwards through the plain of Sharon to Ludd and Ramleh. The whole of that region is as fertile as beautiful, but most of it is uncultivated, and all infested with robbers. At Sindiâneh I wanted to send my baggage directly across to Tantúra, while I came round this way to Cæsarea, and had to hire a guard sufficiently large not merely to protect my muleteers in going, but themselves in returning. The people could not then venture from village to village but in companies and well armed.

A large building some two miles to the north-east of us is called the Kusr, and to reach it one must pick his way through bushes and tall reeds, across sluggish streams with bottomless mud, black as ink. Ignorant of these treacherous bogs, on my first visit I struck directly for the Kusr, and was soon floundering in unsub

EL KŬSR, THEATRE AT CÆSAREA.

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stantial mire up to the belly of my horse, and glad to get safely out again on the same side by which I entered.

In the neighborhood of the Kŭsr are large fountains, now called el Mîamâs, the water of which was collected in a large pool, and then carried by an aqueduct to Cæsarea-but which, of course, is now broken.

There seem to have been substantial buildings about the Kŭsr; and, indeed, one stumbles over the grass-covered ruins of a considerable town.

The Kusr itself was doubtless one of Cæsarea's theatres, and any plan of a Roman theatre will enable you to comprehend the details of the edifice. It is semicircular, and the length of the chord is one hundred and sixty-six feet. The seats are gone, and the cavea much changed; but the vomitories and vaults be

B

of Samaria and the far-spreading plain of Sharon is very beautiful; and thither flocked the laughter-loving Greeks of Cæsarea to enjoy the excitement of theatric games and the pleasures of the open country at the same time. The topography of the place is decidedly interesting. Directly north of the Kusr terminate the last spurs of Carmel in a bold promontory called Khâshm en Nazûr. South of it is the great marsh ez Zoar, fading out into the sandy downs and bushy slopes of the upper Sharon. The ruined villages of Um el 'Allak and Mu'allakah-both names suggestive of the horse-leech, which greatly abounds in the marsh-appear

on the northern ridge; and Bureikîeh, three miles distant in the same direction, is inhabited by the peasants who cultivate the land around the fountains of Mîamâs. The water from a fountain near Subbarîn was in former times led down by Bureikich to the Kŭsr, where it was associated with the stream from Mîamâs, and the two united were carried along the perpendicular base of Jebel Khâshm, across the swamp of ez Zoar, to the shore, and thence by a long aqueduct southwards to the city. This was a remarkable work, and much of it is still quite perfect. The road is now upon, or, rather, within the aqueduct, over various brooks which, passing beneath it, are lost in the general marsh, and, with nerves sufficiently steady, one might follow on the top of it quite to the western side of the marsh; for, if I remember aright, there is not a broken arch in the entire line. Suspicious-looking streams soak their way through tall reeds and flags, all pouring their blackish water into the marsh. The largest of these, called Shukeîŭk, is said to rise in Wady Sŭfsâfeh, about two hours to the south-east. These streams run into the swamp, and not to the sea, in consequence of a low rocky ridge which extends parallel to the coast, and about half a mile from it. This formation is the same fossiliferous sandy limestone as that out of which nearly all the cities on the seaboard are built, and it has here been hewn and cut up by quarriers in the most extraordinary manner; indeed, the cuttings and quarrying are more extensive than those of any other city on this coast. I once spent several hours searching among them for inscriptions, and found none; but it appeared to me scarcely possible that such enormous quarryings were made by the short-lived city of Cæsarea, and that, therefore, this was merely the Roman name for a more ancient city. I had read this before, but was convinced that the original name could not have been Strato's Tower, for that is Latin, and these quarries were opened long before the Romans ever appeared in Syria. That primitive city may have been the frontier town in this direction of the Phoenicians, but this is uncertain, for the boundary between them and the Philistines was never clearly defined; yet it is not probable that the former had at any time permanent possession of the coast farther south than Cæsarea, for the country beyond, for many a mile, has always been an uninhabited desert.

THE SEABOARD OF SYRIA.-'ATHLÎT.

April 9th.

65

Is there anything of interest between Haifa and Cæsarea? The best answer is to pass it in review during our morning's ride to Tantûra, the ancient Dor. By way of introduction, listen to some remarks on the general character of the entire Syrian seaboard. From Carmel and northwards there are numerous head. lands, with bays on the north of them more or less deep, by which the line of the coast falls back to the east, as it were, by successive steps. Carmel itself, with the Bay of Acre, is not only the first but one of the most striking. North of Acre is the Ladder of Tyre, which consists of three such capes: el Musheîrifeh, en Nakûrah, and el Baiyod. Between Tyre and Sidon is the low headland of Sarafend; and from Sidon to Beirût are three Nakûrahs (rocky points), with their retreating coves of Rumeîleh, Neby Yûnas, and es Sa'diat, near the Damûr. Then comes the projecting cape, Ras Beirût, with its Bay of St. George falling back to the deeper cove of Jûneh. The next salient point is the Theoprosopon of the ancients, north of Bŭtrûn, beyond which, by successive steps, at Cape Enfeh and the Mina of Tripoli, the coast enters far eastwards into the plain of 'Akkâr. With lesser indentations at Ruwad and Balinas, we come to the long low promontory of Lâdikîyeh. Finally, stretching across the open sea at the so-called Bay of Antioch, we pass Ras el Khanzîr and enter the Bay of Skandarûn. Such is the configuration of the northern half of this coast; but from Carmel southwards it runs in a direct line west of south, past 'Athlît, Cæsarea, Jaffa, Askelon, Gaza, and quite on round to Egypt.

After this rapid survey we will begin again at the point of Carmel. It is three hours thence to 'Athlît, with no important villages or ruins intervening. I cannot identify that place with any ancient site whatever. Neither the Bible, nor Josephus, nor any profane historian or geographer mentions it, nor does its name appear in any of the old Itineraries; and yet the existing remains are more numerous and striking and in better preservation than those of almost any old town along the coast. The exterior wall, built of large stones and protected by a ditch cut through the solid rock where necessary, enclosed a quadrangular space reaching quite across the headland on which the city stood. Most of this wall