WE had already visited many scenes which have been made dear forever by their association with the dear Savior. We had tarried at Nazareth, where he lived as a body and grew up to be a young man; had visited Cana, where his first miracle was wrought; had sailed all around the Sea of Galilee, which was so long the seat of his ministry; gone to the Jordan where he was baptized, and to Nain and Bethany where he had raised the dead. We lingered on the Mount of Olives where he stood, in the place of the temple where he taught, and on Calvary where he died, but we had not yet seen Bethlehem, where he was born. After Jerusalem and Nazareth there was no place that we were so eager to see; hence when Mr. Crunden announced that we were to take an afternoon drive to Bethlehem, the boys raised a shout of joy.

      "But can we make a visit in an afternoon?" asked Will. "How far is it?"

      "We surely ought to," replied Bayard. It is only six miles south of here, on the road to Hebron.

      "O, yes," retorted Will. "I will suspect you have [329] just got that out of Baedeker; I saw you studying up a moment ago."

      We were not going on horseback. We were going to vary our usual style of travel by taking our first drive in Palestine. Hence, just after noon a lot of rickety-looking carriages were drawn up near the Jaffa Gate, for our party. Keep in mind that Jerusalem is surrounded by lofty stone walls, and that all who go in and out must pass through one of the gates. The boys were elated over the thought of a carriage ride. We had gone over the country, here and there, from the Lebanon Mountains, at the north of Palestine, to the river Jordan, the Dead Sea, and Jerusalem, but we had always journeyed on horseback. Indeed, we had found no roads, in this ride of three hundred miles, where one could travel any other way than on horseback, unless he went on foot. But here, for the first time, at Jerusalem we had found roads on which a carriage could be used. One of these roads had been made lately from Jerusalem south to Bethlehem, and from thence towards Hebron where Abraham lies buried, and another runs down from Jerusalem to Jaffa on the sea.

      I have before stated that David was very sick the day we reached Jerusalem. The poor fellow had been in the hands of the doctor ever since. The day we visited the temple site he got up out of bed and wearily attended us for a while, suffering much, but resolute to see the sacred spot after [330] journeying so far. Before a great while he gave out, and had to be sent back to his bed, but now he had secured his doctor's permission to go with us to Bethlehem. The doctor said that he was out of danger, gave him some strengthening medicine, and told him that it would be better for him to go than fret over the disappointment. You may be sure that we were delighted.

      It was with great curiosity that we examined the curious-looking vehicles which were drawn up for us. They may have been fine barouches once, but they all now showed, like the famous "One Horse Shay," "the general flavor of mild decay." The boys insisted that there were a part of the outfit that Noah took into the Ark. Three horses, all harnessed abreast, were hitched to each other, and a driver who looked like a Bedouin, handled the whip and lines. As we found after we had started, their great delight was to race, and to try to drive around each other. I believe that we passed other carriages, and were also driven around by others, a dozen times. Our driver would be poking along slowly in the rear of another, and in an unsuspecting moment, would suddenly lash his horses, raise his lines and cry, "Hi! Hi!" and would be dashing around at a rate that would make the rickety old thing trembled in every joint. We would have enjoyed it more if we had not feared that the [331] vehicle would shake to pieces as we went lumbering over the stones. Indeed, before we got back to Jerusalem two of the six carriages in our company had become demoralized so much that their occupants had to get out and walk the rest of the way. This was a good joke for those whose vehicles held out, but neither the boys nor myself enjoyed it, for the joke was on us. All aboard! In a moment we were all in our carriages, and our wild Arab Jehus drivers started off on the gallop, holding up their reins and shouting, "Hi! Hi!" to encourage their horses. A terrible clatter the old, tumble-down carriages made as they bumped along over the stones, creaking, bumping, clattering and shivering continually. We rolled away from the Jaffa Gate, along the side of Mount Zion, into the valley of the Gihon, past the lower Pool of Gihon, a vast artificial reservoir covering several acres, across a stone bridge and up the Hill of Evil Counsel on the south, amid a cloud of dust stirred up by our lumbering coaches.

      Our course was south. If you will look on a map of Palestine, you will see that Bethlehem lies about six miles away, in the direction off Hebron. All central Palestine is one high mountain, which rises, here and there, into higher peaks, and of course Jerusalem and Bethlehem are on this mountain chain, which reaches from Galilee to Beersheba. They are elevated about a half mile above the level of the sea. When we had ascended the [332] hill south of the Gihon, our drivers stopped for a moment to let the horses breathe after climbing the long ascent. We turned and looked back upon the city and its environs.

      "How different," said David; "are the surroundings from what I had supposed! I had read that Palestine was made up of barren hills, but it looks from here as if all the country around Jerusalem was a forest."

      "I learn," said I, "that a great part of the trees have been planted in the last ten or twelve years. A great impulse has been given to the cultivation of the olive, and some one told me that three million olive trees had been planted in that time. It is said to pay very well, and it does well on hills that are too stony for other crops.

      "What are those large buildings in a great olive orchard southwest of the Jaffa Gate?"

      "Those are a great agricultural and industrial school for young Jews. It was founded by Sir Moses Montefiore, a very benevolent and rich Jew, who died a few years ago, when one hundred years old. His object was to teach Jews how to make a living in Palestine by industry."

      "How many Jews are there in Palestine?"

      "Dr. Selah Merrill, who was long U.S. Consul in Jerusalem, says that there are about 42,000. Of these, over 25,000 are in Jerusalem. In Tiberias there are about 3,000; in Safed, about 6,000; but elsewhere the Jews are not numerous." [333]

TOMB OF RACHEL. [334]

      By this time we were again moving rapidly forward, and our drivers were, wherever the road permitted, racing and shouting to each other and to their horses in true Arab style. Our course led over an undulating plain, partly planted in olive trees, partly used for grain fields, here and there broken into rocky ravines and pasture lands. This is called the Plain of Rephaim, and was the scene of some of King David's battles. Driving rapidly over the plain, gazing on either hand on hills, plains, valleys, and places which have been the scenes of sacred story, we pause about a mile from Bethlehem at a fountain by the roadside, shaded with trees, under which stands a curious Mohammedan mosque. "What place is this?" "This," was the reply of our dragoman, "is the Tomb of Rachel."

      There is something very touching in the simple Bible story of her death. Jacob, after serving fourteen years for the love that he bore Rachel, was returning from his long sojourn in Haran, and when "there was but a little way to Ephrath," (Bethlehem, which was called Bethlehem Ephrata,) Rachel's sickness came upon her, and "Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set up a pillar upon her grave, which is the pillar of Rachel's grave unto this day" (Gen. 35:16-20). Years after, when Jacob was a very old man, he refers very tenderly to the story of his loss: "As for me, when I [335] came from Padan, Rachel died by me in the land of Canaan in the way, when yet there was but a little way to Ephrath, and I buried her there in the way of Ephrath; the same is Bethlehem" (Gen. 48:7). The pillar placed here by the mourning old patriarch has long since passed away, but Jew and Mohammedan and Christian are agreed that it is the spot where the mother of Joseph and Benjamin died. How real old Jacob and his family seem to us as we read the Bible story and see them weeping over their beloved dead. Human hearts thirty-five hundred years ago were much the same as now, and human sorrows have always been the same.

      "There is one passage of Scripture," said David, "I understand now better than ever before. When Herod massacred the little children of Bethlehem, Matthew says: 'Then was a voice heard in Ramah, Rachel weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted because her little ones were not.' The cries and lamentations of Bethlehem were so close at hand as to be heard plainly here, and might be said, poetically, to come from the tomb of Rachel."

      While here we noticed a considerable city about a quarter of a mile to the west of the tomb. We had heard of no city in that locality, and asked Dragoman Joseph what was its name. He replied that it was called Beit Jala, that it had about 3,000 population, and that these were almost all [336] Christians. "The Greek patriarch of Jerusalem," said he, "makes his home here, and most of the people are Greek Christians."

      And now we turn from the main road, ascend a slope on the left, and on the hill-top find ourselves near a large collection of white, one-story, flat-roofed stone houses. This is Bethlehem! On those pasture lands to the east, a thousand years before Christ was born, the young shepherd David watched his flocks and sang to them his songs. Yonder, where you see that well on the slope, is the fountain by the gate of Bethlehem, for which David so longed while hidden in the cave of Adullam for a refuge. Those wheatfields to the southeast, they tell us, is the place where the sweet Ruth gleaned in the fields of Boaz; and just beyond it, the people say, is where the shepherds were tending their flocks on that wonderful night when the Son of God came down to the earth. Beyond the wheatfields and the pastures we see a tall mountain rising like a regular cone, and we ask, "What mountain is that?"

      "That is the Frank mountain, so called because the Crusaders long had a fortress on its top at the time they were in possession of Palestine, and the people were wont to call them Franks. But long before their day, Herod the Great had a palace there, with an aqueduct and great reservoirs. Josephus says that he died at Jericho, but that his [337] body was carried to the Frank mountain and there buried. If so, it lies were it overlooks the scene of one of his most inhuman deeds."

      Bethlehem is not a walled city, like Jerusalem, but the road enters the city through a portal which much resembles a gate in the wall. We drive for some distance along the one street which is wide enough for carriages, and at last pause in an open square in front of the Church of the Nativity. Hundreds of Bethlehemites have crowded around us, some led by curiosity, and some to drive a trade in bracelets, beads, rosaries, crucifixes and toys made of mother-of-pearl and olive wood, for the manufacture of which the place is famous. They looked clean, and had a well-to-do appearance, were civil, and I do not remember that a single person asked us for a backshish in Bethlehem. This was so unusual a circumstance that I spoke to Joseph about it. He replied: "The people are all Christians here. That explains it."

      Joseph was right. Wherever in Palestine we found a Christian population the towns were clean and the cry for backshish was seldom or never heard. The six thousand inhabitants of Bethlehem are almost all Christians.

      We were led at once to the great fortress-like pile of buildings which is supposed to cover the [338] birthplace of our Savior. These are called the Church of the Nativity. It is a very old and a huge affair, said to be "the oldest monument of Christian architecture in the world." A part of the building was erected by the Empress Helena,

BETHLEHEM.

the mother of the Emperor Constantine, about A.D. 327. We enter a low door, so low that we have to bow down to pass the portals, a fact that reminds us that this is a fortress as well as a church. The door is made so low to prevent Bedouin horsemen from riding into the sanctuary. When once we have entered, we find that, like the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, there are three churches and three convents; those of the Greek Christians, the Latins (Catholics) and the [339] Armenians, under the same roof. We care little for the chapels with their lamps, images and pictures, and are led at once down a spiral stairway twenty feet below the floor of the church above, into a room over thirty feet long by about twelve feet wide, cased with Italian marble, shining in the light of the numerous lamps with gold and silver, and hung with rich embroidery. On one side of this room a silver star is set in the marble floor, and around it are the Latin words: Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est, "Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary." Over this spot sixteen silver lamps are kept burning night and day, perpetually. At one end of the room is pointed out the place of the manger.

      Can this be the place where the Prince of Peace was born, among the beasts of the stable, and cradled in a manger? Where

      It certainly does not look like it now, with all this splendor of marble and silver and gold. Yet, there are strong historical reasons for answering that it is the place. From a time when there were Christians still living who had seen the apostles we know that it was so regarded, and it is not likely that the place of the one "inn" of Bethlehem would have been forgotten at that early period. So in spite of what man has done to distort the simplicity of the Lord's birthplace, and to [340] make it more like a worldly king's palace, I was so sure that I was where the wonderful Babe was first cradled, and my feelings were overpowering. I believe that the boys felt just as deeply, for we all stood speechless in that deep subterranean chamber, until the silence seemed almost oppressive.

      After we had ascended, Will remarked that he could not understand why the stable of the inn should have been down so far in the earth. I replied that Dr. Thompson who had spent over forty years in Palestine, and had studied the features of the country very thoroughly, said in his work, The Land and the Book, that it was very common for the ancient inn to stand on the edge of the hill with a cavern or excavation below for a stable. The church stands on the very edge of the hill on which Bethlehem is built.

      Bayard reminded us that when we were in the Vatican at Rome we had seen a splendid picture, painted several hundred years ago by the great Domenichino, which was called the "Last Communion of Jerome," and were told that it represented St. Jerome receiving the last communion, in a cave at Bethlehem, just before he died. We were then told we would see the cave. "Where is it?"

      Mr. Crunden replied: "It is here close at hand. [341] Jerome came here in the fourth century, to spend his last years where Christ was born. He is said to have lived for thirty years in a cave, and there to have translated the Bible into the Latin language, then the language of the common people, on which account his translation was called the 'Latin Vulgate.'" We were then led down below, and along a long subterranean gallery, to a cell hewn out of the rock, which was probably the scene of the fastings, prayers, studies, and labors of one of the greatest of the "Latin Fathers." The cell is fitted up with an altar, and is now called the "Chapel of St. Jerome." Those who have seen that wonderful picture in the Vatican cannot fail to visit with interest the spot which is portrayed upon the canvas.

      Many other places were pointed out that had little interest for us, who did not accept monkish traditions, and it was with a sense of relief that we passed out into the open air, and were led around the great church to the crest of the hill, where we could overlook the fields were the reapers of Boaz were so busy three thousand years ago. The country all around is either cultivated in wheat fields or planted in fruit. Even the hill on which the town stands is terraced, and is belted with olive and fig trees. In the air of comfort and plenty we see why the city that has stood here ever since the times of Jacob, has been called Bethlehem, the "House of Bread." [342]

      When is Bethlehem first mentioned?" asked David, as we stood there and looked over the plain that lay between us and the barren "wilderness of Judah" to the east.

      "It is first mentioned in the times of Jacob," said Mr. Crunden, "in connection with the death of Rachel. It again comes into prominence in the beautiful story of Ruth, who was the great grandmother of King David. Here Jesse lived; probably on those hills east of the grain fields David tended his flocks. There, I suppose, he killed the lion and the bear, and from there he was called when the Prophet Samuel came to anoint one who should become king." We saw some men at work in a field below, and the boys were eager to have a race over the fields of Boaz. Joseph went with us, and we soon had reached the husbandmen. Joseph engaged in conversation with them, and was informed that they were Christians, members of the Greek communion, and lived in Bethlehem, as their fathers had in all generations. They were very proud of the history of their city and very sure that they knew where Ruth had gleaned, where David had killed the lion, where the angel had appeared to the shepherds, and where many a marvel was wrought by the Babe and his Virgin Mother. We did not seek to disturb their simple, unquestioning faith.

      We waited in Bethlehem until the night came down, talking with the people, and looking at the [343]

BETHLEHEMITE FARMERS. [344]

places of interest, and then we rolled back in the darkness over the Plain of Rephaim and across the Gihon to Jerusalem, filled with sweet and solemn thoughts of Him whom all men know as the Babe of Bethlehem. As we rode out through the gateway of the city the stars had come out in the clear heavens, and the boys began to sing:

      Voices from the other carriages joined in the song, and as its tide swept over the Bethlehem fields my soul was deeply moved. I thought of that wonderful scene nearly nineteen hundred years ago, and I seemed to see the Babe wrapped in swaddling-clothes, laid in a manager. Then I seemed to hear the outburst of the song of the angels on the air of the night, and catch the grand chorus, "Glory to God in the highest! On earth peace, and good will to men!" Then I thought how sad a world this would be if it had no Bethlehem, and no Calvary! To these spots hundreds of millions of people look with tender reverence. This day, twenty-seven Americans, who have come nearly eight thousand miles, are thinking of Jesus, [345] and raising their hearts in thanksgiving to God at this place where he was born.

      As we crossed the Gihon in the darkness we were recalled from our reflections by a break down, which compelled us to travel the rest of the way, not a great distance, fortunately, on foot, and we trudged our way wearily up the hill of Zion, past the Jaffa Gate, and breathed a sigh of relief as we entered the portals of our hotel.

[YFBL 329-346]