Читать книгу A Ride through Syria to Damascus and Baalbec, and ascent of Mount Hermon онлайн

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Having on the former occasion travelled by the beaten track, viâ Jerusalem, we this time try a new and unfrequented route. Our objective points are the plains of Sharon and Esdraelon, sighting that mighty headland, “the excellency of Carmel,” with its numerous reminiscences of Elijah, and Baal, that “glory of Lebanon,” Hermon with its traditional snow-clad summit and verdure-vested slopes—the sacred sources of the Jordan, and of Pharpar and Abana, which one thought “better than all the rivers of Israel”—onward then to Damascus with its “straight street” and memories of Abram, Saul of Tarsus, Ananias, and Naaman—then onward again to the reputed tombs of the early patriarchs, and lastly—Baalbec with its massive Hivite and beautiful Roman remains. This is a short sketch of the tour we purpose describing in the following pages.

Joppa—With the House of Simon the Tanner on the Sea shore.

Again we have the good fortune, by the courtesy of the director, to obtain a passage in the French China Mail, from Marseilles to Port Said, so arrive in the Holy Land eight and a half days after leaving the Crusaders’ old haunt in London. Favoured with fine weather, we sail north of Sardinia, and sighting Elba and Monte Christo, in two days pass by Ischia into the beautiful bay of Naples. We find the pretty Chiaja much enlarged, planted, and generally improved, and are pleased to see the graceful palm trees in thriving condition. In the Museo Nazionale, ever so interesting, we come to the same conclusion as Solomon as to nothing being new under the sun, for there, if we mistake not, on well-preserved fresco, we see our old friend the sea-serpent and a lady, very much like Britannia ruling the waves on a half-penny. But the sun is setting on Sorrento, Virgil’s tomb is already in the shade, the ship’s bell is summoning strangers to depart, and passengers to dress for dinner, so we must bid adieu to Naples and proceed again en voyage. Capri stands out grandly and gloomily in the twilight; Vesuvius is quiet, scarcely keeping up appearances: we gaze at it until the giant form dies away in the dim distance, and then—go down to dinner. Early next morning we pass Stromboli, and in the Straits of Messina Ætna, but both are “still and silent as the grave,” in fact on the latter summit, if we mistake not, we see the dark black lava spotted with bright white snow. On the far horizon we sight the distant cliffs of Crete, and two days later find ourselves entering Port Said, where we tranship ourselves to the Austrian steamer for Jaffa, are off in an hour and arrive early next morning. We elect to go to Syria by way of Palestine, but by a different route, in order that we may visit certain interesting districts which lay out of our line on our former visit.