IT was only a short ride from the river Kishon to the town of Haifa, which stands at the foot of Mount Carmel, on the south side of the Bay. This place, though a part of it is mean and dirty, shows more signs of improvement than any place we had seen since we left Beyrout. The Austrian line of steamers stops here, and there is some talk of a railroad across the level plain of Esdraelon to Tiberias on the sea of Galilee, and from there to Damascus. One could be easily built, as there are no mountains on the route which could not be avoided. There are a number of German settlers here and in the country near here. They belong to a peculiar religious body call the "Temple," and it is their belief that they ought to live in Palestine, prepare it for Christ, and thus prepare for the Lord his holy temple. There are, perhaps, a thousand of them, and they are a very industrious, religious people, who are doing much good by showing the natives a better way of life. We met with some of them, and found them very good Christian people.

      From here we rode along the northern base of the mountain on the road which leads east from [114] Haifa until we had reached the eastern extremity of Mount Carmel, on which side we expected to ascend the famous mountain. Our camp was pitched on the river Kishon in the narrow neck-like isthmus, not over half a mile wide, which connects two great plains, that of Acre, over which we had traveled, and that of Esdraelon. Above our camp on one side was Mount Carmel, rising to the height of about 1,800 feet; one the other side were the mountains of Galilee. The river was here only a dry bed and the water for the camp was obtained from a well.

      It required the whole afternoon to make the ascent of the mountain and to return to camp. By following a very circuitous route we were able to ride all the way to the top. When we were within about three hundred feet of the summit we came to a level space on the eastern side, a kind of bench on the mountain side, of several acres in extent, now planted in olive trees. It is a large enough space, I suppose, for a hundred thousand people to gather here. Above it are cragged precipices, and around it wooded heights. At one end of this level space was a fountain with an abundant supply of water, though no rains had fallen for several months.

      "David," said I, "will you please read from the [115] eighteenth chapter of First Kings, beginning with the nineteenth verse?"

      He then read the account of Elijah's contest with the priests of Baal, the gathering of the children of Israel at Mount Carmel, of his altar, the wood and the water poured upon the altar; then of the prophet's prayer, and the descent of the fire from heaven. Then I said: "This is, no doubt, the place where these things occurred. There is room here for the people to assemble. There is wood for the sacrifice close at hand; there is water here also, and Joseph says that this fountain has never been known to dry up. The river Kishon, to which the priests of Baal were taken after their failure, runs below at the foot of the mountain. This place in every respect agrees with the conditions required in the account."

      "Why did Elijah wait until the hour of the evening sacrifice to offer his sacrifice?" asked Will.

      "To give the priests all the time they could ask so as to show that they did not fail for want of time. The time of the evening sacrifice was about 3 P.M. What time is it now?"

      Will looked at his watch and replied that it was about that time.

      "See," said I, "the sun is disappearing behind the great precipice that rises above this level plateau on the west. The shadows of the mountain now extend over this level spot. Do you know that Baal was a sun god, and that the priests [116] prayed to him from morning until noon, and then to the hour of the evening sacrifice? You see that they prayed as long as the face of their sun god could be seen in the sky, but when it had disappeared behind the mountain their failure was too manifest to be denied. Then it was Elijah's turn."

      "There is one thing I do not understand," said Bayard. "After the trial was over the Bible says that Elijah prayed seven times, and sent his servant up to see whether there were any rain clouds. At last the servant reported a cloud, not much larger than a man's hand, out over the sea. We can see nothing of the sea here, and it must be ten or fifteen miles away. The peak of the mountain lies between us and the sea."

      "We must wait until we too have 'gone up' as the servant is said to have done. Perhaps if we had climbed to the top of this precipice on the west of the terrace it would be different."

      We mounted again, and by a detour ascended the height that had been above us. We were on the mountain top, which spread out like a level field, covered here and there with trees. We found on the summit several buildings belonging to the monks who make this mountain their home. We dismounted and gathered on the eastern verge of the precipice, overlooking the level terrace where we had been a little while before, and a splendid vision spread out before us. To the west rolled the blue waters of the Great Sea from which [117] Elijah's servant saw the storm-cloud gathering when it "was not bigger than a man's hand." To the south we could trace the line of coast to the haven where the great city of Cæsarea once stood. To the north the bay of Acre extended, far below us, with the city of Acre, and "the Ladder of Tyre" in the background. Looking to the northeast we saw the mountains of Galilee, with the towering peaks of Mount Hermon beyond, rising like a giant above them in the distance. To the east Mount Tabor raised its rounded summit as regularly as if it had been a work of art. Stretching away from the base of Mount Carmel was the great plain of Esdraelon, as level as the western prairies, the pools of the Kishon showing here and there, with the mountains of Samaria on the south and those of Galilee on the north, while on the east, from fifteen to twenty miles away, was Mount Gilboa in a dark blue mass, and through the opening where the plain of Jezreel runs down to the Jordan we could see the mountains of Gilead, looking like clouds in the horizon. We could make out Jezreel on its hill at the base of Mount Gilboa, Shunem to the north, Nain still nearer Mount Tabor, and several more place named in the Bible. It was a sight that I never can forget.

      The sun was sinking into the sea before we left the summit, and night had set in before we reached the base of the mountain as its southeastern extremity. We still had several miles to ride [118] through the darkness before we reached our camp, and we would perhaps have had some difficulty to find it had we not observed a flame, apparently on the side of the Galilean hills. We at first thought it was a fire built by the natives, but Joseph, the dragoman, assured us that it was a beacon raised on high at the camp to guide us. As we came nearer we perceived that the fire was a bright light raised to the top of our flag-staff.

      Our camp on that night was near the River Kishon, by a well that supplied us with water. On one side was the lofty peak of Mount Carmel; on the other were the wooded hills of Galilee. As far as we could see we were in a wilderness, with no human habitation within many miles. We had not before this camped at a distance from a city or town, and there seemed to be a loneliness about our situation, as though we were in an uninhabited land, which left a very solemn impression. Before retiring I went out of the tent and listened. The only sounds were those of our horses and mules, the clatter of the currycombs as the Arabs groomed them, and their chatter as they carried on their work. Far up on Mount Carmel, perhaps three miles distant, I could see the light of a fire, which served to show that there were some neighbors not a great distance away. We found afterwards that we had neighbors still nearer at hand. [119]

      Of course we all wished to take in a sight of Cæsarea, the famous old city where Cornelius lived, where Philip preached, where the first church of Gentiles was organized, and where Paul so long abode as a prisoner. We knew well that its glory had departed and that we would find only ruins where once stood the most splendid city in Palestine, but we wished to see the spot which was so famous in New Testament history. It seemed to be the most convenient time to visit it before we turned away from the coast to go to the Sea of Galilee. The distance could easily be made in a day from our camp at the base of Mount Carmel; hence, in the early morning we were in the saddle and riding through the depression that runs between this famous mountain and the hills of Samaria, which connects the plain of Esdraelon with the great seacoast plain that extends south to Carmel to Egypt. As we rode through this pass, which seems to have been left on purpose for a road, the boys inquired whether it was an ancient highway. "It has been used," said I, "as far back as history goes, both for peaceful and warlike purposes. It was through this pass that the Philistines marched at the time when they fought and killed Saul and Jonathan eat of here fifteen miles at the foot of Mount Gilboa. Through here also Pharaoh Necho came with his army when good King Josiah disputed his way and lost [120] his life in the battle of Megiddo. Armies have marched through here almost times without number. Even Bonaparte led his army through here when he came up out of Egypt to attack Acre."

      "Had he no other way to reach Acre?" asked Will.

      "There is another road along the beach at the foot of Mount Carmel, between the mountain and the sea, but that has been usually avoided by armies when they expected opposition. It is overhung for some distance by an inaccessible precipice six hundred feet high, from which it would be easy to assail and destroy and army marching below."

      Soon our way opened out upon a great level plain which is usually called the Maratime Plain, and then led us to the shore of the sea. The road necessarily runs near the water's edge, for the reason that much of the plain back a short distance is marshy. It could be readily drained by a little enterprise, and converted into fertile fields, but this will not be done, I suppose, until the Turkish government gives way to some better one. There are many proofs, such as ancient ruins, broken aqueducts, and remains of old roads, which show that it has not always been so desolate as it seems now. In the portion of the plain between Mount Carmel and Jaffa one sees but rarely a village or other sights of human life.

      This great plain, along the edge of which we [121] were now riding, extends without interruption from Mount Carmel south along the whole coast of Palestine, and even to Egypt. It is washed by the sea on the west, and on the east it is bounded by the mountains of Samaria and Judea.

      "What is the width of the plain?" asked Bayard.

      David, who had been reading up in the Guide Book, replied: "It is about eight miles wide here at the northern end, but it gradually widens as we go south. At the southern boundary of Palestine it is twenty miles wide. It is the largest plain in all Palestine."

      "Were any of the Jewish cities so famous in the Old Testament located on this plain?"

      "There were famous cities upon it, but not Jewish cities. Joppa, Ekron, Ashdod, Ascalon and Gaza were all located upon it farther south, and are often named in the Old Testament, but could hardly be called Jewish cities in those days. The truth is," said I, "the ancient Israelites were mountaineers, and loved the mountains better than the plains. The famous Jewish cities of the Old Testament are all among the mountains."

      "I know, I know!" exclaimed Will. "There are Hebron, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Bethel, Samaria and Jezreel, all among the mountains."

      "Where was the famous plain of Sharon?" said Bayard.

      You are now on the northern edge off it. It [122] extended south to Joppa. South of that place was the Philistine plain. The Philistines, the old enemies of Israel, gave the name Philistina, or Palestina, to the whole country. That is foreigners called it Palestina or Philistina, because the Philistines dwell in it."

      Not far from noon we passed a small town near the sea, containing about thirty houses, but surrounded by ruins which indicated that at some time there was a much larger city on the site. The place is now called Tanturah, but its ancient name was Dor, and by this name it is mentioned in the Bible. Joshua names it (Josh 12:23), and it is also mentioned in (1 Kings 4:11). It was once a royal city, but it is a wretched place now, with hardly a single house fit for men, and hardly fit for cattle. A few miles south of this old city we crossed a small stream near its mouth, which is called the Crocodile river, for the reason that crocodiles used to be found, and perhaps may be still, in the swamps through which it flows a short distance back from the sea. There are some rude mills here which are turned by the stream. A ride of half an hour more brought us to the ruins of the ancient city of Cæsarea, once a city of two hundred thousand inhabitants, and the Roman capital of Palestine, but now entirely deserted.

      There are remains of the old walls running along the seashore for nearly a half mile, and enclosing a walled area about a half mile long by forty rods [123]

THE ANCIENT HARBOR OF CÆSAREA. [124]

wide, which must have been the fortified portion of the city in the time of the Crusaders, the period at which it is prominent for the last time in history. We could trace also the lines of an old aqueduct that supplied the city with water, and of the moles that enclosed the harbor which was built by Herod the Great. We could see that there had been built into the masonry of the moles granite columns which must have belonged to some older city. Within the walls we found a well which is still used, and near it we encamped for the night.

      As the sun was setting we gazed upon the desolate harbor, once filled with ships, and looked over the sea in vain for a single sail. In this once crowded mart, filled with the din of traffic, there was the silence of the desert. After our dinner we gathered in our tent as usual to talk over the incidents of the day, or the history of the locality.

      "I don't think Cæsarea is named in the Old Testament. Is it?" asked David.

      "It is not. There may have been an old Phoenician city here, as some believe, but it only comes into notice in Bible history in New Testament times. Herod the Great, the Herod who slew the children at Bethlehem, found here a town called Strato's Tower. He constructed the habor, refounded the city, and called it Cæsarea to compliment the Roman emperor."

      "I have been looking in the New Testament for it," said Will, "and the first mention I find is in [125] the tenth chapter of Acts, where it is said, 'There was a certain man in Cæsarea named Cornelius, a centurion of the band called the Italian band.'"

      "Then," exclaimed David, "you did not find the first place. In the eighth chapter of Acts it is said that Philip, the evangelist, went to Cæsarea to live."

      "Yes," said I, "Cæsarea is, except Jerusalem, more prominent in Acts than any other city of Palestine. As Jerusalem was the seat of the first Jewish Christian Church, so Cæsarea was the place where the first Gentile Christian Church was founded. Here Philip the evangelist went after he converted the Eunuch (Acts 8:40), and here he was found living many years later (Acts 21:8). Here the Roman soldier Cornelius and his friends were converted by Peter, and here there seemed to be a numerous church when Paul visited the place on his last visit to Jerusalem. Here 'Herod the King,' Herod Agrippa, the last king of Judea, delivered his great oration, was called a god, and died a miserable death (Acts 12:19). Here Agabus predicted Paul's imprisonment, and here a little later Paul was imprisoned for years. Indeed, all of Paul's history narrated in the twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, and twenty-sixth chapters of Acts belongs to Cæsarea."

      "This must have been a very flourishing city in New Testament times," said Will.

      "If Josephus can be trusted it was a splendid [126] city in his time, more a Grecian and Roman than Jewish city, filled with temples, palaces, amphitheatre and baths. The remains of the old Roman amphitheatre can still be traced, about a mile northeast of where we are camped. The city must have been very populous, for 20,000 Jews were massacred here at the beginning of the Jewish war, It continued to be important in early church history. Eusebius, the church historian, lived here and was a bishop. It was in the hands of the Crusaders most of the time from A.D. 1102 to 1219, but then fell into the hands of the Mohammedans again. Since then it has fallen into utter decay."

      It seems to me very strange," said Will, "that Christianity should have decayed where it first existed. I do not know how to account for it."

      "The reason is plain," said I. "The Lord said to the Church at Ephesus (Rev. 2:5), 'I have this against thee, that thou hast left thy first love,' and tells it that unless it repents he will remove its candlestick from its place. The churches in this part of the world became corrupt, and then the Lord let them die."

      Yet it was sad, as I laid upon my couch at night, to listen to the moaning of the waves and to think of the desolation around us. How I would have liked to have seen Cæsarea in that day when Paul stood as a prisoner before Felix and Drusilla and reasoned of "righteousness, [127] temperance and judgment to come," until the proud Roman ruler trembled before the prisoner! I thought of those times, of Paul before King Agrippa, of his appeal to Cæsar, and of his sailing out of this crowded harbor on a ship of Adramyttium on his mournful journey to Rome in order to be tried before Nero for his life. What a change from the splendid capital of those old Roman times to the mouldering heap of stones that we now find in the midst of the wilderness by the sea!

      The next morning we examined the old ruined aqueduct which Herod had built to supply the city with water, and the site of the great amphitheatre where heathen sports were provided by the Roman governors to entertain the people, and then started on our return to our camp at the foot of Mount Carmel. As we rode along the shore we saw a number of villainous-looking Bedouin Arabs, who haunt this desolate plain. The dragoman had warned us that it was best not to straggle from the line, for lonely travelers sometimes disappear in these wastes, and are never heard of again. Indeed, one of our company was reminded that this was a dangerous part of the country for a man to travel alone. For some cause he had stopped and had fallen behind the rest a considerable distance. He was riding along quite briskly in order to overtake us again when, suddenly, four or five wild-looking men sprang up out of the grass where they had lain concealed and tried to stop his horse. He [128] struck one who had reached to seize the bridle rein a vigorous cut across the eyes with his riding whip, which caused him to reel back, and at the same time plunged his spurs into his horse's sides. As he galloped off at full speed a short was fired, but did not touch him. We heard the shot, and in an instant Dragoman Joseph wheeled around and went clattering back with the rest of us at his heels. We soon met our affrighted fellow traveler, but his assailants had disappeared and could not be found. There was little need after this for Joseph to urge us not to straggle out of our line. [129]

[YFBL 114-129]