"The River Jordan boils out from two foundations, of which one is called Jor and the other Dan, the streams of which, joining in one, become a very rapid river, and take the name of Jordan."
S?wulf, 1103

Of the town of Tiberias the less said the better, though it should be admitted that we saw it under exceptional circumstances—after twelve hours' steady rain, for which it is certainly not adapted. Most of the streets are stone tunnels, where, when it once enters, the water stands in large pools unaffected by sun or wind, and with only islands of decaying matter, animal and vegetable, to serve as steps for hapless pedestrians. In the open streets the inhabitants, with a view to protection from sun, have rigged up coverings of old mats, old carpets, old clothes, which, naturally, shed unsavoury drippings upon our heads as we passed beneath. The exquisite cleanliness and brightness of our convent quarters tempted us to stay within, and enjoy the glorious view of lake and mountain from the roof; but we resisted, and were well {303} rewarded for our walk up to the Scottish hospital by the sight of good work well and scientifically done, of missionaries who follow in the footsteps of their Master, who has left us but one sermon, and countless instances of work among the sick and the needy. Of the Scottish and American missions in Palestine the English visitor can feel justly proud, if not of his race, at least of those who speak his tongue.

The remainder of our time in Tiberias was spent, not in the world of the Old or New Testaments, or even of the Crusaders, but in the first six centuries A.D., when the Jews had forgotten their original hatred of its novelty and its ceremonial uncleanness, and had accepted it, with Jerusalem, Safed, and Hebron, as one of their four holy cities; had established a theological university, and built over a dozen synagogues. As at the universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, students would come and attach themselves to this or that teacher, sitting at his feet in his own house, or listening to his discussions with other Gamaliels in public places. It is probable that Christ never came to this city; and, indeed, all its personal associations are of a later period. Here Josephus had a powerful stronghold during {304} the Jewish wars; here, after the destruction of Jerusalem, we find the Sanhedrin; here, testifying to the strength and progress of Christianity, the opposition school of the Talmud was established; here the Mishna, the collection of ancient tradition, was published in 200 A.D.; here, some four hundred years later, the so-called Jerusalem Talmud; here the now accepted pointing of the Hebrew Bible came into existence—in fact, it is the cradle of Jewish literature and learning. Its Christian associations are few. There were bishops of Tiberias in the fifth century; but their flocks must have been small, and the bishopric died out, to be revived by the Crusaders. It was here that St Jerome learned Hebrew, in preparation for his work upon the Vulgate.

We picked our way among the pools, as best we could, to the outside of the city, and up the hill westward, asking our way to the tombs of various learned rabbis from the Jews whom we met on the road, but who, unless they were silent from suspicion, seemed but little acquainted with the shrines of Maimonides, the philosopher, Rab Jochanan Ben Sakai, or even with the celebrated Rabbi Akiba, who took so prominent a part in the revolt of Bar Cochba, whose claims {305} to be the Messiah he supported with a zeal which led to the ultimate destruction of the last remnant of the Jewish kingdom in 135.

We found the graves of the great Talmudist Rabbi Me?r and two of his pupils in a school of the Ashkenazim, which, for the nonce, was serving a very useful purpose as hospice for a number of German Jews travelling to a new colony farther south. They had spread their mattresses all over the dais, and were eating a meal which had the characteristic Jewish smell of fish and onions.

Of course, also, we visited the celebrated hot baths, which lie about a mile to the south of the town, in the neighbourhood of the old city, as is testified by the columns, capitals, and hewn stones scattered in every direction. The road seems to follow the lines of an old colonnade, to judge from the numerous bases of pillars gradually wearing away under the friction of carriage wheels. The water has a temperature of 143 degrees Fahrenheit, and even in the open air we found it impossible to endure the warmth of a little spring which gushed out from the hillside with a very unpleasant sulphurous smell. There are two general bath-houses, in one of which private baths may be had. These are much frequented, and seem to be very effectual in cases of rheumatism {306} and cutaneous disease, though, perhaps, less so than those at Callirhoe, east of the Jordan, of which marvellous, and apparently authentic, cures are related.

After one more night in Tiberias we set out at an early hour next morning on our way to Besan, from whence we proposed to visit Pella, and, crossing the Jordan, return down its eastern bank. It was a very easy ride, of about eight hours, along a good road, with fertile fields, greensward, and abundant trees and bushes to refresh the eye; but as it lies, for the most part, six hundred feet below sea-level, one may well imagine that it is, as reported, later in the season intolerably hot. In strange contrast to the almost tropical vegetation, the palms and bananas, the oleanders and azaleas, were the great snow-covered shoulders of the Jebel es-Shech, the Mountain of the Shech, the highest point of Mount Hermon, dominating the landscape, and visible, whenever we looked backward, for the greater part of the day.

We were much interested in a Jewish family which accompanied us for some distance on their way to the colony. The mother, grasping an infant, was perilously balanced upon the top of the family bedding, beneath which the legs of a {307} mule were barely visible; while an older child, of perhaps three, hung in a wooden box, accompanied by several gas-tins, on one side of a donkey, balanced on the other by the family wardrobe. The men were afoot, and generally in the rear, unless some displacement of the baggage or a specially deep ford seemed to require some attention on their part. The child seemed quite confident and happy, although the donkey, less heavily weighted than the mule, was generally far ahead, with the object of accumulating leisure for the snatching of a meal wherever specially tempting thistles invited.

We lunched at Jisr el Mujamia, where a temporary village of tents and wooden huts had been erected for those employed on the new railway—engineers, fellahin, workmen, and soldiers. The River Jordan, which we had been following almost ever since we left the Lake of Tiberias, here divided into several parallel streams, leaving a number of islands, now grown over with bushes and herbage, but probably covered when the river is full. A quaint stone bridge, with very acute arches, leading to a village, lent human interest to the scene; and on the hills beyond we were shown the site of the town of Gadara, just south of the Yarmuk, one of the principal tributaries {308} of the Jordan. Here, also, are hot springs, much visited in the season, and the ruins of another of the Gr?co-Roman cities which encircle the lake, although considerably older than the Herodian city of Tiberias. We were constantly brought face to face with anomalies and anachronisms; but it is, nevertheless, a shock to one's preconceived ideas to turn from the busy scene in the immediate foreground—the skilful engineering of the new railway—to cross, in imagination, the Roman bridge, to pass the poor fellahin village, type, with its contrasting railway, of the civilisation of to-day, up to where, on yonder height, it is not difficult to call up, on their old sites, the amphitheatre of Gadara looking up the lake, the acropolis above, the triumphal archway, the Greek villas scattered on the hills to catch the breeze, the barracks of the Roman legions, whence the troops descended daily to the cities around. These were what met the eyes of Jesus when He wandered among yonder tombs and met the poor madman whose diseased imagination conceived himself to be one of the legions whom he daily looked upon in all their bravery of sheen and colour. And now the fellahin are storing their grain in sculptured sarcophagi; for the grave outlasts all, even its {309} occupants, and the graceful wreaths which did honour to some centurion over two thousand years ago still bloom immortally among the haste and squalor, the railways, the canvas tents, the wooden huts, the crumbling villages, the competition of to-day. Beyond the Jordan, with all its associations, at the foot of the hills which have looked on at so many cycles of change, the wounded earth yawned and gaped, awaiting the iron road which was to carry her children yet more rapidly to the end, which now, as of old, awaits us all. This eastern Nature, so full of the past, is seldom glad—has, except in her wildest utterances, little of the joy which Wordsworth found in the simpler revelations of our English hills—but the complication of ancient leisureliness by modern haste, of cycles of repose by the scars of modern science, is to add irony to melancholy, cynicism to meditation, to exhibit decay where she reveals only repose, to force utterance where she has offered us the music of songs unsung.

We were almost glad to turn away; and soon the scene was changed. As we continued our way due south we only now and then caught glimpses of the Jordan, although we crossed many streams hastening down with their little contributions to the historic whole. All was {310} fresh and green; we mounted, perhaps, some 300 feet, and the plain widened out into the valley of Jezreel, and we found the air fresh and pleasant, although when we reached Besan we were still 320 feet below sea-level. We were free to enjoy the green earth and the blue sky without complication of historical associations, except when, about two hours after leaving our halting-place, we saw on a hill to our right a village now known as K?kab el-Hawa, where King Fulke built a castle, known by the familiar name of Belvoir, and which was taken by Salah ed-din in 1188. We resisted the temptation to climb, although there are ruins to photograph, and it is said that the outlook deserves its name.

The approach to the town of Besan is truly surprising; and, indeed, the appearance of the whole neighbourhood is unique in Palestine, owing to the taste and activity of the mudir, who, it is whispered, remains here for political reasons, and who has had the good sense to make his exile as attractive as possible. The town lies in a green hollow, sloping westward towards the low-lying plain of Jezreel, some 300 feet below. The winding stream of the Jal?d waters it on the north, and streams flow abundantly in all directions. The hills to the north appear to be {311} of volcanic formation; and, indeed, most of the rocks scattered about, seemed to be basalt. An excellent road approaches the town, bordered for some distance by well-planted trees, though we could not help observing what must be very discouraging to the ?sthetic mudir, that, despite all pains taken for their security, they had been wantonly mishandled. The main street might well be called a boulevard. It is wide, planted mainly with acacias and the graceful azedarach (Pride of India), and the houses are stone, and mainly of two storeys. A great archway, flanked on either side by magnificent ancient Corinthian pillars, leads into the village khan, a large open space, surrounded on three sides by stables and outhouses; while on the fourth is the inn itself, the upper storey, reserved for guests of the better class, being approached by an outside staircase. Here we found a large hall, furnished only by low stools, and some cupboards containing the wine and arak, theoretically eschewed by Moslem guests; while various sleeping-rooms opened into a corridor beyond. Here we immediately secured the requisite accommodation, which was so far of a superior kind that it included bedsteads, as well as a table and a couple of chairs. Experience led us at a later hour to reject {312} bedsteads, curtains, and bedclothes, and to sleep upon a mattress and lehaf (wadded cotton quilt) upon the floor, supplemented by our own wraps.

We snatched a hurried meal, for we were occupied with certain ambitious projects, which absorbed our attention. Our dream—or, ............