XV. We may leave the servants to pack up and pursue the regular route over CHAPTER that hill to the north-east on the road to Tibnîn, while we take down that wady Shimaliyeh, and thence northward to the ruins of Em el 'Awamîd. In no other place will you find such perfect specimens of ancient oil-mills and oilpresses, in a word, such a complete exhibition of what a large Phoenician agri- presses cultural village was. That road which passes over the hill to the south leads up a long ravine to Yathîr, thence into the great wady Aîûn, which it follows for many miles, past the site of Hazor, past Rumeîsh, and Kefr Bûr'îam, and Gish, to Safed and Tiberias. There are many ruins along it; indeed, every village occupies the site of an ancient town. We shall visit some of them on our return. And this is Em el 'Awamîd-the mother of columns--and a curious place it El em is. But nearly all these pillars are square. These are the upright posts of the oil-presses. You observe that they stand in pairs about two feet apart, having a deep groove in the inner faces, 'Awamid. running from top to bottom. In this groove moved the plank on the top of the olive cheeses, forced down by a beam, as a lever, acting against this huge stone which lies on the top of the columns. Here is the stone trough into which the oil ran; and close by are two immense basins, in which the olives were ground to a pulp by the stone wheel that was rolled over them. This basin is nearly eight feet in diameter, and it must have cost no small labour to cut it out of the mountain and bring it to this spot. It is polished perfectly smooth by long use. Here is another basin, smaller and more concave. It may have served to tread the olives with the feet-a process not now used, Treading but to which there is an allusion in Micah vi. 15: "Thou shalt tread the the olive. olives, but thou shalt not anoint thee with oil." Were all these upright and prostrate columns parts of oil-presses? Most of them. A few seem to have belonged to houses, or were the posts PART II. Ravines of gateways, but the great majority were presses, and they speak of vast oliveorchards, not a trace of which now remains. When we reflect that these ruins have been broken up, and carried off to the surrounding villages from time inmemorial, we may well be astonished at the number which still remain. And here let me inform you, for your guidance among ruins, that it does not follow that every village whose houses are built, in whole or in part, of large old stone, must necessarily be ancient, not even if it should itself be now a ruin. That village to the west of us is almost entirely made of such stone, taken from here, and it is fast falling into decay, though it may not be five hundred years old. What a wild, broken region spreads up the mountain to the east of us! Those ravines are different branches of the great wady Jelo, which enters and roads. the plain of Tyre nearly opposite the city. Our road lies in the bottom of this branch from the south-east, called wady Habis, and it is time we should descend into it and prosecute our journey; and, when in, we shall not get out for two hours, but must wind about according to its own eccentricities, sometimes between cliffs perpendicular and bare, at others less precipitous, and clothed with beautiful oak woods. Here comes in the road from Kânâ, and high up the face of this rampart on our left is a tomb cut in the rock. He who made it must have been like Edom, ambitious to place his nest as high as the eagle; and yet, saith the Lord, "I will bring thee down from thence.” 1 And, long ages ago, his dust was scattered in this brawling brook, and swept away to the sea of Tyre. Here is an extraordinary growth of cactus, climbing the face of the cliff for many hundred feet,—the only thing of the kind I have seen in Syria. We begin to hear the tinkling of our mule-bells, and now and then the song of the driver comes echoing down between these gigantic cliffs. And there is the sharp crack of Salîm's gun. They are evidently enjoying our romantic valley and this delicious air. The partridge. What bird is that whose call rings responsive from side to side? The red-legged partridge, of which there are countless flocks in these hills and wadies of Naphtali. It is at them that Salîm is exercising his skill. Should he succeed we shall have the better dinner, for they are twice as large as our American quail, to which, in other respects, they bear a close resemblance. Hear how they cackle and call to one another directly above our heads. They are very wary, however, and often lead the vexed hunter over many a weary mile of rough mountains before he can get a shot at them. The emeers and feudal chiefs of the country hunt them with the hawk, and keep up, with great pride, the ancient sport of falconry. The birds are generally brought from Persia and the cold mountains of Armenia, and do not thrive well in this climate. They are of two kinds, a large one for wood-cock and red-legged partridges, and a smaller for the quail. The Beg at the castle of Tibnin which we are now approaching, always keeps 1 Jer. xlix. 16. XV. several of these large falcons on their perches in his grand reception-hall, CHAPTER where they are tended with the utmost care. I have been out on the mountains to see them hunt, and it is a most exciting scene. The emeers sit on The faltheir horses holding the birds on their wrists, and the woods are filled with con. their retainers, beating about and shouting, to start up and drive toward them the poor partridges. When near enough, the falcon is launched from the hand, and swoops down upon his victim like an eagle hasting to the prey. After he has struck his quarry, the falcon flies a short distance, and lights on the ground, amid the redoubled shouts of the sportsmen. The keeper darts forward, secures both, cuts the throat of the partridge, and allows his captor to suck its blood. This is his reward. Notwithstanding the exhilaration of the sport, I could never endure the falcon himself. There is something almost satanic in his eye, and in the ferocity with which he drinks the warm lifeblood of his innocent victim. I once saw some men of Tortosa catching the Syrian quail with a small hawk. This was done on foot, each sportsman Hunting carrying his bird on the right wrist, and beating the bushes with a stick held partin his left hand. These quails are less than the American; are migratory, coming here in early spring, and passing on to the north. They hide under the bushes, and will not rise on the wing unless forced to do so by a dog, or by the hunter himself. I was surprised to see how quickly and surely the little hawk seized his game. His reward, also, was merely the blood of the bird. I do not know whether or not the Jews in ancient days were acquainted with falconry, but David complains that Saul hunted for his blood as one doth hunt for a partridge in the mountains;1 and this hunting of the same bird on these mountains, and giving their blood to the hawk, reminds one of the sad complaint of the persecuted son of Jesse. ridges. zelle. In the neighbourhood of Aleppo the smaller falcon is taught to assist the Hunting sportsman to capture the gazelle. Neither horse nor greyhound can overtake the gathese fleet creatures on the open desert, and therefore the Arabs have taught the hawk to fasten on their forehead, and blind them by incessant flapping of their wings. Bewildered and terrified, they leap about at random, and are easily captured. They are also trained to attack the bustard in the same The busregion. This bird is about as large as a turkey, and highly prized by the lovers tard. of game; but as they keep on the vast level plains, where there is nothing to screen the cautious hunter, it is almost impossible to get within gunshot of them. When they rise in the air, the little falcon flies up from beneath and fastens on one of their wings, and then both come whirling over and over to the ground, when the hunter quickly seizes the bustard, and delivers his brave bird from a position not particularly safe or comfortable. They will even bring down the largest eagle in the same way; but in this desperate game they are sometimes torn to pieces by the insulted majesty of the feathered kingdom. 1 Sam. xxvi. 20. PART II. Tibnin. And now we have gained the summit of this long ravine, let me inform you that it is but one of many which cut down, in all directions, from the high plateaus of Naphtali. We shall be obliged to regulate our march in all cases according to their dictation. Yonder is Tibnîn, crowning the top of a lofty Tell, partly natural and partly artificial. It rises like a huge hay stack at least two hundred feet above all its surroundings. The present buildings are comparatively modern, but it figured in the wars of the Crusaders, by whom it was called Toron. No doubt those mailed champions of the Cross often dashed up Wady Habis in a style very different from our peaceful and pleasant saunter, and on a very different errand, for they had to encounter the victorious squadrons of the terrible Saladin. Toron is not, probably, the most ancient The castle. name of this castle. A place so conspicuous, so strong, and so central, must have always been occupied, as it is now, by the family that governed the province around it; and there are not wanting traces of that more ancient castle. The top of the Tell is perforated like a honey-comb with old cisterns; and on the east side are heavy foundations, the stones of which have the Phoenician bevel. They may have been there at the time of Joshua, and Tibnîn probably represents some one of the places given to Naphtali, though what one it is impossible to determine. The Beg informed me that Jezzar Pasha of Acre destroyed this castle, broke down the wall, and filled up the ditch, which ran quite round the Tell. He did the same to Hûnîn, and, indeed, to all the castles in these mountains, and killed or expelled the native chiefs. If the Butcher had done nothing worse, he would have deserved praise rather than censure. After his death, howewer, the feudal lords returned more greedy and tyrannical than The governor. Mes sengers "more honourable." ever. The present head of the house of Aly es Sughîr pretends that his ancestors were made governors of Belad Bsharah by the great Saladin himself. This may be fairly doubted, though I do not know when they actually rose to power in the country. Shall we call on this governor in the castle? By no means. There would be no getting away until to-morrow. Two years ago I spent the night there with my family, and that will last me all my life. I had no intention of doing such a foolish thing then, but began to pitch the tents in some threshing-floors which overlook the wady on the north of the castle. The Beg had seen us pass, and despatched a messenger to invite us to his palace. I sent an apology. Then came a deputation "more honourable," his secretary and a near relative, with a note from the Beg, urging the invitation so earnestly that I felt obliged to comply. This sending honourable princes to press the request reminded me at the time of the way in which Balak overcame the real or pretended reluctance of Balaam. "He sent again princes, more, and more honourable than they; and they said to him, Let nothing, I pray thee, hinder thee from coming unto me."1 This is a very Num. xxii. 15, 16. XV. ancient and very common custom. Everything is done by mediation. Thus CHAPTER the centurion sent unto Jesus elders, beseeching him that he would come and heal his servant.1 In a hundred instances I have been pressed and annoyed Mediators. by these mediating ambassadors. Their importunity takes no denial. Το save ourselves from such a siege, we will keep quite clear of the castle, and go on about half an hour to a well at the bottom of that wady east of us, and there take our lunch. In the meantime, I will give you an account of that visit, as the cheapest way into the interior of a Metawely governor's palace. The old Beg received me with the utmost politeness,-descended from his divan, kissed me on both cheeks, and insisted on my sharing his elevated seat. A divan. To the best of my knowledge, it was the first time I ever saw him, but he insisted that he had been at my house in Beirût some fifteen years before, and that I had done him a very important service by speaking a word in his behalf in the right quarter. It may have been so; at any rate, he was as kind as he knew how to be-gave me a Metāwely dinner, and kept me up till late, talking about all sorts of topics before a full divan of his relatives and retainers, and then had my bed spread on the same divan. According to court etiquette at Tibnîn, the ladies of my party had their own apartment, and, after being served with dinner, they called on the great sit, or lady of the Beg, whose apartments were in another section of the castle. It would be tedious to detail all they saw and heard; but they were much pleased with some of the "harem," who appeared modest, lady-like, and pretty. Others, however, were coarse and ill-bred enough. fleas. I was greatly disappointed in the Beg. His conversation was incessant, loud, and often utterly absurd. We fell at last into a rambling and useless discussion about religion, in which Mohammed's character and prophetic claims were handled rudely enough, to the great scandal of the dervishes present; and at midnight I was glad to break up the divan, and try to sleep-no easy task, A sleepless or, rather, it was impossible. The visitors had filled the divan with fleas, and nightthe wind, which began to blow hard before we left our tents, proved to be one of those siroccos which make all sorts of vermin doubly active and man excessively nervous. The whole night was passed in fruitless skirmishes with these contemptible enemies, and the suffocating wind whistled and piped most doleful tunes through every chink and cranny of the old castle. The ladies had fared even worse than myself, and the morning found us dejected, headachy, and quite discouraged. Having with difficulty achieved a breakfast, in the midst of confusion which reminded me of Scott's Highland stories, we took a guide from the Beg and started for Hunîn, where we expect to get to-night. I shall never forget the experience of that dismal night, nor the charming Romantic ride of that day through these romantic wadies of old Naphtali. We filled our wadies of Naphtali. water-bottles at these very wells where we are now quietly taking lunch, and Luke vii. 8. |