non, Bucolon, and the City of Crocodiles." The ruins of this last town are here at the mouth of this River Zerka. This silence of Strabo with regard to both Athleet and Dor favors the idea that the Roman road passed on the east of Carmel. Sycamenon is probably Caimon. The Bible repeatedly mentions Tantûra and her towns by the name of Dor; and Athleet may have been one of her "towns," though it was immensely superior to Dor. But enough about Athleet, except that her people are great villains, and so are those of Et Tirêh, at the foot of Carmel, northeast of it. En Haud, on the brow of the mountain, may possibly mark the site of En Haddah, given to Issachar. It is nearly three hours from Athleet to Tantûra, and the two vil lages, Kefr Lam and Sarafend, both apparently ancient, are between them. Farther inland are Yebla and 'Ain Gazzal. The name Yebla resembles Ibleam, which was assigned to Manasseh, though belonging to the lot of Issachar.

Tantûra merits very little attention. It is a sad and sickly hamlet of wretched huts, on a naked sea-beach, with a marshy flat between it and the base of the eastern hills. The sheikh's palace and the public menzûl for travelers are the only respectable houses. Dor never could have been a large city, for there are no remains. The artificial tell, with a fragment of the kusr standing like a column upon it, was probably the most ancient site. In front of the present village are five small islets, by the aid of which an artificial harbor could easily be constructed, the entrance to which would be by the inlet at the foot of the kusr; and should "Dor and her towns" ever rise again into wealth and importance, such a harbor will assuredly be made.

Twenty minutes south of Tantûra, a considerable stream, called Mufjûr, enters the sea. It descends from Belad er Roha, and is probably the same as Wady Dalia. The beach is thickly strewn with pretty shells, and the sand is solid enough to make the ride along the rippling surf delightful. It is two hours to the mouth of the River Zerka, where are the remains of the old City of Crocodiles; and thus we have reached our camp-ground, and the hour when wearied travelers seek repose.

MORNING.

249

XXXIII. CÆSAREA TO JAFFA.

April 3d.

The hurry and bustle of our early start have crowded out our usual morning worship. Let us therefore turn aside, and take a lesson from the works and ways of nature, while the gray dawn grows into the full broad day. This is the season, and this the hour when poets love to sing, "Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,

With charm of earliest birds."

The lark is already on high, saluting the first ray that gilds the dappled east with his cheerful matin. All nature hears the call, shakes off dull sleep, and hastens to join the general welcome to the coming king of day; and yonder he comes, over the head of Carmel, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race. See! even the vegetable kingdom shares the universal joy. Notice these flowers all around us, how they turn smiling to his ardent gaze, bend forward in seeming reverence, throw open their pretty cups, and cast abroad their sweetest perfume. This silent adoration of ten thousand thousand flowers is most beautiful and impressive, and nowhere else beheld in higher perfection than among the lilies and roses of this sacred plain of Sharon.

Now this "powerful king of day" is but the faint shadow of his Maker-the Sun of Righteousness; and when He rises with healing under his wings,' may we be ever ready to meet him with analogous welcome and superior joy. Let us even now listen to the many voices around us calling to prayer. Oh come, let us worship and bow down; let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.2 We have done well to commence our ride with the dawn, for it is the longest, and will be the most fatiguing which we have yet accomplished. He who goes not to bed will be early up, says an Oriental proverb, and so it has been with me. I can never sleep in such place as this, and therefore merely wrapped my cloak about me, and sat down

Mal. iv. 2.

2 Ps. xcv. 6, 7.

patiently to watch our boastful guard, for I never yet found them faithful through a whole night. Talking, smoking, and joking, they managed to stave off sleep until one o'clock, and then all except Hammûd gave up the effort. He held on for nearly another hour, humming to himself more and more drowsily, till finally his head subsided on his chest, and his song into a gurgling snore. Poor fellow! let him sleep and dream of home.

Lifting his gun quietly from his knee, I walked out on this ancient causeway, and set myself to count the stars, and listen to the sounds that startle the dull ear of night. I deemed myself familiar with every noise and note that mark the transit of these leaden hours: the surf's low murmur dying out on the shore-the sobbing of the winds among the trees and rocks-the monotonous response of the nighthawk to his mate-the muffled flutter of the circling batthe howl of the wolf-the jackal's wail-the bark of the fox-and the ban-dog's cross bay from the distant fold. To these and such as these I have listened with the listening stars a thousand times, and again last night. But there was something additional to render my solitary watch upon this old dam strange, and doubtful, and expectant. Above the clattering of mill-stones and the rush of water-wheels there came, every now and then, a loud splash and hollow roar never heard by me before. Did they come from the slimy crocodiles which crawl through this hideous swamp in search of prey? The idea made me nervous. Ere long, however, my musings wandered off to more interesting themes. I recalled the day and night I spent among Cæsarea's broken walls and prostrate columns more than twenty years ago. Fresh from scenes of war, and earthquake, and sickness, and death in Jerusalem, I then felt a mysterious sympathy with these sad and forsaken ruins. Cæsarea is, in some respects, the most interesting site on the earth to the missionary. Here the Holy Ghost was first poured out upon Gentiles as upon the Jews, and thus the middle wall of partition broken down. From this spot the glad tidings set forth to run among the nations north, and south, and

PAUL A PRISONER IN CESAREA.

251

east, and west-west, far west-and, after eighteen centuries, from that New World, westward, far beyond the dream of prophet or apostle, returns the herald of that Gospel to mingle his tears with the dust and ashes of this cradle of the Gentile Church.

How wonderful the ways of God! In this place the greatest missionary that ever lived was shut up in prison two whole years, and at a most critical time in the history of the Church, when his presence and preaching seemed indispensable. One can not help feeling that Paul made a mistake when he came here from Acre en route to Jerusalem. He should have listened to Philip's four prophetic daughters, and to Agabus, who took Paul's girdle, and bound his own hands and feet, and said, Thus saith the Holy Ghost, so shall the Jews at Jerusalem bind the man that owneth this girdle. But the lion-hearted apostle could not be persuaded. "What mean ye," saith he, "to weep and to break my heart? for I am ready not only to be bound, but to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." And speedily and right nobly did he redeem his pledge.

Having escaped terrific mobs and horrible conspiracies at Jerusalem, he was brought back to this place in chains, and here held prisoner by Felix, that corrupt and tyrannical governor. How often he must have dragged his chain to the top of the castle during those two long years, and gazed on the green hills of Palestine, and out upon the blue sea over which he had sailed many times on messages of mercy to heathen nations along its distant shores. One longs to know something of the musings and occupations of that wonderful man during the tedium of those many months. But inspiration is silent, and even tradition fails us. The supposition that he superintended the writing of Luke's Gospel is a mere guess, with no historic basis.

Here we are again within Cæsarea's prostrate walls. Doubtless some of these mounds of rubbish mark the exact site of Paul's prison, and from this sandy margin of the harbor he stepped on board that ship of Adramyttium in which

Acts xxi. 8-11.

he sailed for Italy to prosecute his appeal before Cæsar.' Repeatedly have I passed over these same seas, and followed the apostle step by step in that tedious and unfortunate voyage. They evidently had a pleasant run to Sidon, where they touched the next day, and Paul was allowed to go on shore and refresh himself among his friends. The wind must have then hauled round to the west, for the ship could not pursue the direct course to Italy south of Cyprus, but ran north between the island and the Syrian coast, and then west over the sea of Silicia and Pamphylia; working westward in the teeth of the wind, it was a tedious and dangerous passage. But we may not follow that celebrated voyage any farther at present, nor longer linger here at Casarea; so take your last look at these remains of the city, and harbor, and sandy suburbs, and let us hasten after our luggage, now far ahead of us.

In passing through from Cæsarea to Jaffa, we do but follow the example of ancient geographers and Itineraries. They stretch their lines from the one to the other as though there was nothing worth attention in the twelve intervening hours. Nor were they much mistaken, for there is, perhaps, no ride of so many miles in any other part of Palestine more solitary and barren of historic interest. Strabo says, "After Strato's Tower there is a great wood, and then Joppa." The Roman road was evidently carried east of these sandy downs which lie along the shore, both to avoid them, and also to find suitable places to throw their bridges over the rivers which enter the sea. Following that route, we should first pass through a dreary wood of dwarfish pines and entangled bushes, and then down the long plain of Sharon direct to Lydd, the Diospolis of the ancients. But, as this would be much longer, we shall keep to the coast, although the sand is deep and heavy.

Before taking leave of this interesting site, let us examine these traces of a city on the south of it, whose remains appear to be much older than those of Cæsarea. Those inlets along the rocky shore, I suppose, were the harbor of that

Acts xxvii. 2.