"Papa, we set off so late, we shall not be able to get further
than Latron to-night."
"What place is that? is it any place?"
"Supposed to be the Modin of the Maccabees."
"Have you brought any books, Daisy?" was papa's next question.
"No, papa, except 'Murray' and the Bible."
"We ought to have more," he said. "We must see if we cannot
supply that want at Jerusalem."
Papa's interest in the subject was thoroughly waking up. We
lunched at Ramleh. How present it is to me, those hours we
spent there. The olive groves and orchards and cornfields, the
palms and figs, the prickly-pear hedges, the sweet breath of
the air. And after our luncheon we stayed to examine the ruins
and the minaret. Our master of ceremonies, Suleiman, was a
little impatient. But we got off in good time and reached our
camping ground just before sunset. Tiere too, the sunlight
flashing on those rocks of ruin comes back to me, and the wide
plain and sea view which the little hill commands. Papa and I
climbed it to look at the ruins and see the view while dinner
was getting ready.
"What is it, Daisy?" he said. "You must be my gazetteer and
interpreter for the land; Suleiman will do for the people."
"It is an old Crusaders' fortress, papa; built to command the
pass to Jerusalem."
That was enough for papa. He pored over the rough remains and
their associations; while I sat down on a stone and looked
over the Philistine plain; scarce able to convince myself that
I was so happy as to see it in reality. Papa and I had a most
enjoyable dinner afterwards; he enjoyed it, I knew; and our
night's rest was sweet, with a faint echo of the war storms of
the ages breaking upon my ear.
To my great joy, there was no storm of the elements the next
morning, and we were able to take up our march for Jerusalem.
The road soon was among the hills; rough, thickety, wild; from
one glen into another, down and up steep ridge sides, always
mounting of course by degrees. Rough as it all was, there were
olives and vineyards sometimes to be seen; often terraced
hillsides which spoke of what had been. At last we came up out
of a deep glen and saw at a distance the white line of wall
which tells of Jerusalem. I believe it was a dreary piece of
country which lay between, but I could hardly know what it
was. My thoughts were fixed on that white wall. I forgot even
papa.
We had pouring rains again soon after we got to Jerusalem. I
was half glad. So much to see and think of at once, it was
almost a relief to be obliged to take things gradually. I had
been given numerous good bits of counsel by the kind English
ladies we had seen at Jaffa; and according to their advice, I
persuaded papa that we should go down at once to Jericho and
the Dead Sea, without waiting till the weather should grow too
hot for it; then Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives and all the
neighbourhood would be delightful. Now, they were very gray
and forlorn to a stranger's eye. I wanted papa to be pleased.
I could have enjoyed Jerusalem at any time. But I knew that by
and by Jericho would be insupportable.