o guess who the
two brown individuals might be, and why they were attended by such a
fierce _cawass_. Passing through the eastern gate, we were gladdened by
the sight of our tents, already pitched in the meadow beside the cistern.
Dervish had arrived an hour before us, and had everything ready for the
sweet lounge of an hour, to which we treat ourselves after a day's ride. I
watched the evening fade away over the blue hills before us, and tried to
convince myself that I should reach Jerusalem on the morrow. Reason said:
"You certainly will!"---but to Faith the Holy City was as far off as ever.
Was it possible that I was in Judea? Was this the Holy Land of the
Crusades, the soil hallowed by the feet of Christ and his Apostles? I must
believe it. Yet it seemed once that if I ever trod that earth, then
beneath my feet, there would be thenceforth a consecration in my life, a
holy essence, a purer inspiration on the lips, a surer faith in the heart.
And because I was not other than I had been, I half doubted whether it was
the Palestine of my dreams.

A number of Arab cameleers, who had come with travellers across the
Desert from Egypt, were encamped near us. Francois was suspicious of some
of them, and therefore divided the night into three watches, which were
kept by himself and our two men. Mustapha was the last, and kept not only
himself, but myself, wide awake by his dolorous chants of love and
religion. I fell sound asleep at dawn, but was roused before sunrise by
Francois, who wished to start betimes, on account of the rugged road we
had to travel. The morning was mild, clear, and balmy, and we were soon
packed and in motion. Leaving the baggage to follow, we rode ahead over
the fertile fields. The wheat and poppies were glistening with dew, birds
sang among the fig-trees, a cool breeze came down from the hollows of the
hills, and my blood leaped as nimbly and joyously as a young hart on the
mountains of Bether.

Between Ramleh and the hill-country, a distance of about eight miles, is
the rolling plain of Arimathea, and this, as well as the greater part of
the plain of Sharon, is one of the richest districts in the world. The
soil is a dark-brown loam, and, without manure, produces annually superb
crops of wheat and barley. We rode for miles through a sea of wheat,
waving far and wide over the swells of land. The tobacco in the fields
about Ramleh was the most luxuriant I ever saw, and the olive and fig
attain a size