drouth would be down the Wady Jezreel, east of the city, around the great fountain now called 'Ain Jalûd. But the narrative does not countenance the idea that Ahab was at such a distance from Carmel. The place of meeting was therefore at the southeast end of this mountain, not far from Tell Kussîs. Are we to suppose that the drouth extended over all this country? I think not. Probably only over the kingdom of Israel, on whose account it was sent. It, however, involved the plain of Sarepta, but that lies within the proper territorial limits of Israel. In order to understand how it was possible to keep any part of this kingdom from being absolutely depopulated, we may remember that, although all the crops fail even when there is a drouth of only a few months in spring, and that in a single dry summer all the ordinary fountains cease, yet there are others, such as 'Ain Jalûd, in the valley of Jezreel, and some of the sources of the Kishon at the base of Carmel, which have never been known to dry up entirely. Moreover, there is no reason to suppose that the drouth extended to Hermon and Lebanon, and hence the great fountains of the Jordan would keep the lakes and the river full and strong, and water could be brought from these sources of supply on camels and mules, and by other means of transportation. It is certain, too, that a portion of the people would remove to the vicinity of these supplies, and to more distant neighborhoods. As to provisions, the Mediterranean was on their western border, and corn from Egypt could be brought in any quantity, as is still done in seasons of scarcity. By these and other means a remnant would be preserved; but we are not to lessen the calamity too much in our account of these resources. The wandering of the king in search of grass; his angry salutation to the prophet; the dying destitution of the widow at Sarepta, all show the fearful extent and severity of the famine. And now we are about to leave this interesting region for one almost a desert. It may be desert, but it is very green and inviting; and what a beautiful brook comes babbling down the wady! WADY KUSAB-BELAD ER ROHAH. 229 If it derived its name, Kusab, from the abundance of cane on its banks, they seem all to have disappeared; but here are splendid oleanders in their place, and I see that the guide has halted for our noonday rest and lunch under a pyramid of these flowery bushes. We shall not be detained long, I dare say, in this solitary place. Hasseîn is evidently uneasy, and looks suspiciously at those horsemen coming down the wady. They are acquaintances, however, I perceive; and, while they discuss Arab politics, we will discuss bread and cheese, chicken and ham. As I expected. These men advise us to be moving, and to keep close together until we reach the next village, after which there is no danger; and so we are off. It is well we improved the time, or we might have had a long ride on an empty stomach. These hills are entirely naked, and mostly barren, or, rather, uncultivated, for I see nothing to prevent their being planted with orchards and vineyards. Nothing but insecurity, and the ferocity of the people in this region. As we advance, you perceive that the wady splits into many branches. We take this one on the west, and our track opens on to beautiful views of Carmel in the north. That village about three miles to the west of us is called Um Ezzêinat, and the one south of it Rehanîeh. The name of the district is Belad er Rohah, and it includes all the southeastern border of Carmel down to Cæsarea. As we are taking leave of Carmel, let us while away the time spent in climbing these tedious hills with a few facts and remarks in regard to that celebrated mountain. It is steep and lofty only at the northwest corner, and on that face which overlooks the plains of Acre and Esdraelon. The ascent is comparatively easy from the sea, and it sinks down gradually to the south into the wooded hills of Samaria and the rich plain of Cæsarea. There are, however, deep ravines, in some of which I became entangled on my way from Tantura to the Mukhrakah, and had no small trouble to extricate myself from their perplexing sinuosities and abrupt precipices. There is no special "excellency" in Carmel at 1 present, whatever may be said of Sharon. Its name, Kerm el, signifies vineyard of God; and we read that Uzziah, who loved husbandry, had vine-dressers in Carmel.2 These vineyards have all disappeared, and, in fact, so have the forests, which were celebrated in ancient song. It is a glorious mountain, however-one to swear by, according to Jeremiah: As I live, saith the King, whose name is the Lord of hosts, surely as Tabor is among the mountains, and as Carmel by the sea, so shall he come.3 Amos lets us know that in his day the top of it was a famous place to hide in, nor has it changed its character in this respect: Though they dig into hell, thence shall my hand take them; though they climb up to heaven, thence will I bring them down; and though they hide themselves in the top of Carmel, I will search and take them out thence. My experience would not have prompted me to place the "top of Carmel" third in such a series of hiding-places, but yet I can fully appre ciate the comparison. Ascending it from the south, we followed a wild gorge, through which my guide thought we could get up, and therefore led us on into the most frightful chasms, overhung by trees, bushes, and dark creepers, until it became absolutely impracticable, and we were obliged to find our way back again. And even after we reached the summit, it was so rough, and broken, and the thorn-bushes so thick-set and sharp, that our clothes were torn, and our hands and faces severely lacerated; nor could I see my guide ten steps ahead of me. It was a noble pasture-field, however, and, in reference to this characteristic, Micah utters this sweet prayer: Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thy heritage, which dwell solitarily in the wood in the midst of Carmel.5 From these and other hints we may believe that Carmel was not very thickly inhabited. There are now some ten or eleven small villages on and around it, occupied by Moslems and Druses; and, besides these, I have the names of eight ruins, none of which, however, are large or historical. Carmel was a habitation. Isaiah xxxv. 2. 4 Amos ix. 2, 3. 2 2 Chron. xxvi. 10. Jer. xlvi. 18. TOP OF CARMEL-DECEITFUL BROOKS. 231 of shepherds,' and it is implied that its pastures were not liable to wither. This may in part be occasioned by the heavy dews which its great elevation, so near the sea, causes to distill nightly upon its thirsty head. I found it quite green and flowery in midsummer. Our road now begins to descend toward the southwest, and the village to which we are coming is called Dalia er Rohah, to distinguish it from another of the same name on the top of Carmel, settled by Druses from Lebanon. This is a singular brook which we are following down the wady. Back yonder I thought of watering my horse, but, supposing the stream would become larger, I omitted it, and here it has vanished altogether, like one of Job's2 deceitful friends-I mean brooks. The phenomena of streams in this country aptly illustrate the character of his false friends. In winter, when there is no need of them, they are full, and strong, and loud in their bustling professions and promises; but in the heat of summer, when they are wanted, they disappoint your hope. You think your fields will be irrigated, and yourself and your flocks refreshed by them, when lo! they deal deceitfully and pass away. Nearly all the streams of this country, "what time they wax warm," thus vanish, go to nothing, and perish. Such were Job's friends. There is another illustration equally pertinent. You meet a clear, sparkling brook, and, so long as you follow it among the cool mountains, it holds cheerful converse with you by its merry gambols over the rocks; but, as soon as you reach the plain, "where it is hot," it begins to dwindle, grow sad and discouraged, and finally fails altogether. Those which suggested the comparison of Job probably flowed down from the high lands of Gilead and Bashan, and came to nothing in the neighboring desert; for it is added that the "troops of Teman looked, the companies of Sheba waited for them, and were confounded because they had hoped." It was in those high mountains only that Job would become familiar with the winter phenomena, where the streams are "black 1 Amos 1. 2. 2 Job vi. 15-19. ish by reason of the ice;" for not only are Lebanon and Hermon covered with snow in winter, and the brooks there frozen, but the same is true also of the higher parts of the Hauran, and of the mountains to the south of it, where Job is supposed to have resided. We shall follow this Wady Dalia, called also Shukkah, for an hour at least, and, owing to some peculiarity in the strata, the water repeatedly sinks away and then reappears lower down. The pastures on either side are extremely rich, and, when I passed along it in February, it was all glowing and blushing with an infinite number and variety of flowers, sending up incense to the skies, and offering their honeyed cups to millions of bees. I saw here a flower altogether new to me; the stem resembles a strong rank pea, but the flowers hang in pendent clusters like hops. The upper part is a light bronze color dashed with purple, the rest pure white. I could get no name for it. We now leave this Wady Dalia, and take over the hill southward for half an hour to Subbarîn, near the head of another valley, which bears the name of Sindiany, from a village of that name farther down toward Casarea. Perhaps both wady and village are so called from the oak woods with which the whole country is clothed. I shall not soon forget the ride on that lonely evening of February when I first passed this way. The setting sun glowed and trembled among the tree-tops, and, streaming down aslope, filled the valley with transparent gold and living emerald full up to the brim and running over. It seemed like fairyland, and I no longer questioned the unequaled charms of Cæsarea and her surroundings. From our present position we can gaze through this glorious vista of oak glades, and along many a solemn aisle, leading every way far into the deep forests. I was taken by surprise, having anticipated nothing but a barren desert, where I met with rural beauty unsurpassed by any thing in this country. The scene now is changed; the fields are white for the harvest, the flowers have faded and fallen, and the grass is sear and dead, but the same round hills are here, and the grand old oaks, with their robes of fadeless green. It never can |