When we drew near the shore we saw crowds of Arabs waiting for us, screaming and fighting and wrestling in savage earnestness. They seemed ready to tear us in pieces rather than lose the chance of carrying our luggage to the hotel. Evelyn was frightened and clung to her father, and even Sir William seemed agitated and alarmed. But Mr. Stanley's quiet voice reassured us.
"Oh, it is nothing," he said. "Arabs in these parts always make a noise like this. It is nothing unusual, I assure you," he added, laughing, as he fought a passage for us through the crowd to the little Custom House which was already crowded with the travellers who had arrived before us. We had, therefore, to wait outside for some time, but Mr. Stanley gave Evelyn a camp-stool to sit on, for she was looking faint and tired. The heat, even at that early hour, seemed to us to be great.
At last the Turkish officer was at liberty to receive the bribe, the baksheesh, which Mr. Stanley had ready for him. He passed our boxes without opening them, and we were allowed to proceed to the hotel.
It was a tiring walk, for the narrow streets of Jaffa were covered with hot, burning sand in which our feet sank with every step we took. Every now and then we looked round to find ourselves nearly knocked down by a huge camel with boxes on its back, which had come noiselessly behind us over the soft sand; or a mule laden with luggage and rushing frantically along, determined to pass us, pushing its way through our midst in the most resolute manner.
Mr. Stanley had advised us to go as far as Ramleh that day, as it was forty miles' ride from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and he thought we would be too tired if we went so far in one day. Accordingly, that afternoon he hired horses for us, and we mounted for our first ride in Palestine.
It was no easy matter guiding our horses through the crowds of Arabs, the strings of camels and mules, and the heaps of filth in the streets of Jaffa. We were glad to leave the town and reach the road which took us through one of the orange groves by which Jaffa was surrounded. Everything looked so strange, and the scent of the oranges was delicious. We passed through the Plain of Sharon, and at about five o'clock in the evening we reached Ramleh after rather more than four hours' ride.
Chapter Fourteen
THERE ARE some moments in our lives which it is impossible to describe. We never forget them, and the impression which they leave behind never fades from our memories. But when we try to speak of them to others, even to those whom we love best, words fail us, and seem too weak to express what we mean.
I will not, therefore, attempt to describe the rush of feeling which passed through my heart when I first came in sight of Jerusalem. Others who have had a like privilege will understand what I felt as Mr. Stanley made us pull up our horses on the top of a hill about half a mile from the city gate.
He said to us, "Well, what do you think of Jerusalem?"
Neither Evelyn nor I could answer him. Sir William had many questions to ask about the houses and other buildings on the road leading to the Jaffa Gate, but we scarcely heard what they were saying. It seemed to us a matter of small importance which was the Austrian consul's house, which was the Pacha's country residence, which was the German deaconesses' school and which was the Russian church and convent.
At that moment when we were able for the first time in our lives to say, "This is Jerusalem," we had neither time nor thought to spare for any interest in the modern buildings of the city.
We rode on in silence, seeing as if in a dream the crowds of people taking their evening walk on the Jaffa road -- people from every quarter of the globe, dressed in costumes as varied as the colors of the rainbow.
Mr. Stanley rode up close beside me as we went through the Jaffa Gate, and said quietly, "I know just how you are feeling, Miss Lindsay. It is, indeed, a wonderful moment in one's life."
We had some difficulty in getting through the gate, for a number of camels and mules were coming out of the city at the time, heavily laden with baggage. Then we passed the Tower of David, and turned down a quiet street where stood the hotel in which Mr. Stanley had secured rooms for us. He took leave of us there, as he was going to lodge at the Latin Convent which was in another part of the city where he had stayed when he was last in Jerusalem.
The landlady of the hotel was Scottish, and was kind and attentive. Our rooms were beautifully clean, with white stone floors, white walls, white curtains before the windows, and white coverings on the beds.
We did not sleep much that night. The excitement which we had gone through the day before would have been sufficient to keep us awake; but even had we felt disposed to sleep, I do not think we would have been able to do so. The noises in the city during the night were so many and so varied that it seemed to us that under any circumstances sleep would be difficult to obtain. Our landlady had told us that she hoped we would not be alarmed at any sound we might hear in the night, for a wedding was going on in a house close by, and the festivities would be kept up until the morning.
Accordingly, for many hours we were kept awake by the noise of music and singing, by the beating of drums, and by the shouts and laughter of the wedding party. But as morning dawned the wedding guests grew quieter, and we hoped to be able to sleep. Now, however, we were disturbed by the howling and barking of the street dogs which at times was quite deafening. Mr. Stanley later told us that these dogs had no owners, but acted as the scavengers of the city, eating anything they could find among the refuse and dirt of the streets.
Each dog had his appointed place in the city, and Mr. Stanley believed there to be a code of honour among them, that no dog was to go into any other quarter of the city except that in which he was born and bred, and in which he ordinarily got his livelihood. Immediately a strange dog from another part of Jerusalem made his appearance, he was driven away by the united efforts of all the dogs in the street which he had invaded, with enough noise to awaken the whole city.
Poor Evelyn tossed about wearily through the night, and I was really afraid that she would be ill again. But her merry spirits seemed to buoy her up, for she found amusement in all our little discomforts, and made me laugh in spite of myself many times during that long, tiring night.
At length a lull came in the barking of the dogs, but now several bells began to ring in the Greek and Latin convents of the city. Then we heard the shouts of muleteers and camel-drivers, and the tinkling of the mule bells as different parties of people set off in the cool of the morning for Jaffa or one of the distant villages.
We got up at eight o'clock, tired and unrefreshed. Sir William had slept much better and was in good spirits, and anxious to go out and explore Jerusalem. We needed no guide and interpreter to take us to the various places of interest, for Mr. Stanley who knew his way about the city as well as any of the inhabitants did, was kind and anxious to help us.
I fancied that it was something more than ordinary kindness which made him always so willing to join our party. I could not help thinking that he was attracted by Evelyn's sweet face and winning ways. Who could help loving her, I said to myself, as I thought the matter over a hundred times during our first day in Jerusalem. I could not help noticing how diligently he kept near us, and how pleased he seemed that Sir William thankfully accepted his offer to be our guide while we stayed in the Holy City.
I shall never forget my first walk through the streets of Jerusalem. We would grow so familiar in a few weeks' time with all the sights and sounds that we scarcely would notice them, but that morning everything was strange and fresh and full of interest.
We went first across an open square in front of the Tower of David where a provisions market was being held. Chickens and eggs, oranges and lemons, were being exhibited for sale by the women from the villages round about Jerusalem, and were being bargained for and bought by the townspeople.
Mr. Stanley called our attention to the enormous cauliflowers. Mr. Stanley told us that one cauliflower was sufficient to feed a family for a whole day. There was so much noise and confusion in this marketplace that it was difficult to keep up conversation.
I was convinced that no business transaction is done in Jerusalem without a dispute, so fierce that if it occurred in England we would expect it to end in blows. The salesman asks three times as much for his goods as he expects to receive, and the buyer offers a third of what he knows he will eventually have to give. And then they begin to dispute, and wrangle, and scream, and shout, and swear, and stamp their feet, and shake their fists, as if the affairs of a whole nation depended on it. We saw one such business transaction going on in a street through which we passed.
"What is the matter here?" said Sir William, as he tried to make his way through an angry crowd who were screaming and gesticulating in the most alarming manner as they clustered round a camel and a camel driver.
"Oh, nothing at all," said Mr. Stanley, laughing as he listened to what they were saying. "That man in the centre of the crowd is buying a load of charcoal, and he and the owner of the charcoal are disputing about a piastre, more or less, which in English money is about equal to two pennies."
"But who are all these other people?" asked Sir William. "They cannot all have an interest in this one load of charcoal."
"Oh no," said Mr. Stanley, "but they happened to be passing at the time and stopped to give their opinion. Some are taking the part of the buyer and some of the seller, and all of them are adding to the general confusion by shouting and swearing and yelling at the highest pitch of their voices."
We were glad to get out of the noisy crowd and descend a flight of steps in the narrow street.
"Do you mind coming in here for a minute?" said Mr. Stanley, as he stopped before a clean-looking building and opened a small door in the wall.
We followed him into a large room. All round the room were Jewish women in their picturesque dresses, sitting on mats on the floor. They were busily engaged with various kinds of needlework, and an English lady was going about among them, helping them in their work and teaching them skills which they did not already know.
We were interested in all she told us of these women, and how they were learning by degrees to make their homes bright and comfortable, and make garments for their husbands and children. Above all, they were learning to love the Word of God which was read aloud to them as they worked, and which was quite a new book to them. These Jewish women in Jerusalem knew as little of what we call Old Testament Scriptures as they did of the New Testament. We gave them several orders for various kinds of lace, which they made most beautifully, and Sir William left a donation towards their savings bank which was doing much good among these poor mothers, encouraging them to lay by part of the money which they earned as a fund from which they could draw in times of sickness or distress.
Then we passed from that room into another part of the building which was used as a girls' school for Jewish children, and it was indeed pleasant to see their bright happy faces, and hear their intelligent answers to the questions put to them. Mr. Stanley told us afterwards that there was a good work being done in this mission school -- for the children were carefully and prayerfully taught, and as the mothers of the next generation they would undoubtedly pave the way for missionary effort among their nation.
The lady who managed the school took us to see all the different classes, and we were especially interested in a large class of Spanish Jewish women, natives of Jerusalem, who were being taught in their own language, and who were learning, little by little and step by step, to know and love that Saviour whom their nation had rejected.
We left the school, hoping to visit it again another day, and were turning round a corner when Mr. Stanley stopped and showed us some curious old stones in the wall of the street. The stones evidently formed part of an old archway, and Mr. Stanley told us that it was believed by some to be the most ancient place in all Jerusalem, being supposed by those who have studied the matter to have been part of the old city of Jebus where the Jebusites lived, before David conquered them and turned their old fortress of Jebus into Jerusalem, the City of David.
As we turned into the large bazaar in one of the principal streets in Jerusalem, we had great difficulty in getting on, so narrow was the street, and so crowded with camels, donkeys, mules, and people standing in front of the curious little shops, bargaining with the shopkeepers inside.
We were making our way slowly down the street when I heard a well-known voice behind us, saying, "Miss Trafford, this is a surprise."
Evelyn and I turned round, and I said involuntarily, "Claude! Where have you come from?"
He told us that he and his wife Alice had been spending a month in Cairo, and had now come to see Palestine. "But there does not seem to be much to see here," he said. "It is a wretched place after Cairo."
"How long have you been here, may I ask?" said Mr. Stanley, when he had been introduced.
"Two long days now," said Claude. "We're thinking of moving on again tomorrow."
"Then you will excuse my saying that you have not begun to see Jerusalem yet," said Mr. Stanley, with the least possible touch of sarcasm in his voice.
"Oh, I don't know," said Claude. "It seems such a stupid place. I can't think why so many people take the trouble to come here. But won't you come and see Alice?" he said, turning to Evelyn. "She will be delighted to see you."
We walked in the direction of the Damascus Gate, near which their tents were pitched.
"By the bye," said Claude, "I met a friend of yours in Cairo, Miss Trafford."
"A friend of mine." said Evelyn, colouring. "Whom do you mean?"
She thought, and I thought too, that Claude must have met Donald Trafford, and Evelyn was considerably relieved by his answer.
"It was Lord Moreton. He was there with a party of his friends, staying in the same hotel that we were. They were going up the Nile. He told me that you were travelling in the Near East, but that is a wide term, and I did not expect that we should meet."
"But why do you call Lord Moreton a friend of mine?" said Evelyn, laughing, though her father looked at her reprovingly.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Trafford," said Claude, "but I thought he was a great friend of yours. I assure you he talked so much of you and Sir William in the short time that we were together, that I thought. . ."
But Claude did not tell us what he thought, for we had to separate at that moment to let a string of laden camels pass by, and the conversation took another turn when we were able to walk together again.
Claude and his wife were travelling with a small party under the escort of a guide, and their tents were pitched in the olive grove just outside the northern gate of the city. Alice was glad to see us, and she, Evelyn, and I had a long talk together as we sat in patriarchal fashion at the tent door, while the gentlemen paced about among the olive trees, talking to the guide, and referring to their guidebooks.
"Is it not strange to be in Jerusalem, Alice?" said Evelyn. "I sometimes feel as if I'm dreaming."
"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, "I have not been much impressed by it. You see, we have become quite accustomed now to Near Eastern manners and customs -- we saw plenty of them in Cairo. And as for the old ruins and buildings here, they are not nearly so ancient as the Pyramids. And there is really very little to be seen, after all, except by those people who believe the lies that are told them about the holy sepulchre, and the tomb of the Virgin, and the manger at Bethlehem. Why actually, in one street, in quite a new wall, our guide pointed out to us a stone which is believed to be the stone that Jesus said would have cried out if the children had held their peace. Such nonsense! I have no patience with it!" said Alice scornfully.
"Oh yes," said Evelyn, "I quite agree with you about all those absurd tales. I wouldn't walk a hundred yards to see one of those shrines, but after all this is Jerusalem, and it was here," she added, "that our Lord walked, and preached, and died, and was buried, and rose again."
"Oh yes, of course," said Alice carelessly, as if that fact was but of small importance to her.
"And if we really love Him," said Evelyn, "if He is d
earer to us than anyone else, don't you think we must look upon Jerusalem and those places where He lived with a strange and wonderful feeling?"
Alice looked at Evelyn in astonishment. She had clearly never heard her speak in that way before, and must have no idea how much Evelyn was changed since she had seen her last. She made no answer, and I think would have turned the conversation to some other subject if Evelyn had not spoken first.
"You look surprised, Alice," she said. "You didn't expect me to say that, did you?"
"No, indeed," said Alice, laughing. "I thought that both you and I were quite free from all sentimental nonsense. I'm afraid Miss Lindsay has been talking you around to her way of thinking."
"Is it nonsense?" asked Evelyn gravely, passing over Alice's last words. "Because if it isn't nonsense, surely it is a great reality."
"Oh, I don't know," said Alice lightly. "Claude says the greater part of religion is nonsense, and I suppose he ought to know. He has studied the matter, and I have not."
"Oh, Alice," said Evelyn, with tears in her eyes, "if you only knew how very, very happy I have been lately. I never knew before that it was possible to be as happy as I am now."
"That may be," said Alice, "and I have to admit that I am not happy. Sometimes I am miserable," she said bitterly, with the sad expression that I had seen on her face once before. "But still I cannot help agreeing with Claude that it is better not to be comforted at all, than to get comfort out of a lie."
"Oh yes," I said, "your husband is quite right in that. But the whole question turns on this: is the Bible Satan's lie, or God's truth? It must surely be either one or the other."
"Well," said Alice, "it's too hot to enter into a theological discussion. I will call the guide and get him to send us some lemonade. Our cook makes it splendidly."
"Poor Alice," said Evelyn, when we were left alone in the tent.
"Yes," I said, "she's not comfortable in her unbelief. She has doubts even about her own doubting."
Alice came back to tell us that the gentlemen had planned a ride to the Mount of Olives, and the guide had gone to hire horses for the whole party so that we could start together from the Damascus Gate as soon as it began to be a little cooler.