his chariots; it was here that Josiah, king of Judah, disguised himself, that he might fight with Necho, king of Egypt, and fell by the arrows of the Egyptian archers. The Assyrian and the Persian, Jews and Gentiles, Crusaders and Saracens, Egyptians and Turks, Arabs and Frenchmen, warriors of every nation, have poured out their blood on the plains of Esdraelon; and here, said a gentleman whom I met in Palestine skilled in the reading and interpretation of the prophecies, will be fought the great final battle with antichrist, when circumstances which are now supposed to be rapidly developing themselves shall bring together a mighty army of the followers of Christ, under the banner of the cross, to do battle in his name, and sweep from the earth his contemners and opposers.

The convent on Mount Carmel is worthy of the place where it stands, and, like the mountain itself, is the best in the Holy Land. The church, which is unfinished, is intended to be a very fine building, and the interior of the convent is really beautiful. I could hardly believe my own eyes when I saw, in rooms provided for travellers, French bedsteads with curtains, and French dressing-tables. The rules of their order forbid the Carmelite friars to eat meat; but they set me down to such a dinner, to say nothing of the wines of Mount Lebanon, that, so far as regarded the eating and drinking merely, I was glad I had not invited myself to dine with my friend the consul at Caipha. From my seat at the table I looked out upon the distant sea; the monks were all gathered around me, kind, good men, happy to receive and talk with a stranger; and it is no extravagance to say, that, after having been buffeted about for months, I felt at the moment that I could be almost willing to remain with them for ever. I ought not to tell it, but the fact is, the extraordinary comfort of the convent, and the extraordinary beauty of the scene, drove away all the associations connected with this gathering-place of the prophets.

CARMELITE FRIARS.

273 I wanted nothing but what I saw before me. The monks told me that there was fine shooting on the mountain. I could throw myself into the clearest of waters, and bathe, or, with my little boat, could glide over to Caipha or Acre. For an invalid in search of retirement, with every beauty that climate and natural scenery can offer, I know no place superior to the convent at Mount Carmel. It is one of the few places I ever saw where a man could be cheerful and happy in perfect seclusion. Books, the mountain, the sky and the sea, would be companions enough. It would be the sweetest spot on earth for a very young couple to test the strength of their poetic dreams; and knocked about and buffeted as I had been, when the superior told me that, in spite of the inscription over the doors of their convents, "clausura per le donna," I might build a house on the spot where I stood, and bring whom I pleased there, it instantly brought to my mind the beautiful birds of Paradise of De la Martine, and my engagements with my friend the consul at Caipha. The whole of the fraternity accompanied me down the side of the mountain; and I beg to except them all, including the cook, from anything I may have said bearing harshly upon the monastic character. The recollection of my engagement, however, began to hurry me. The friars

were pussy and shortwinded; one by one they bade me good-by; and the cook, a most deserving brother, and unnaturally lean for his profession and position in the convent, was the only one who held out to the foot of the mountain. I crossed his hand with a piece of money; Paul kissed it; and, after we had started, turned his head and cried out to the holy cook, "Orate pro mihi," "Pray for me."

At Caipha we found the consul in the street. I do not know whether he was expecting us or not; but, whether or no, I considered it my duty to apologize for having stayed so long on the mountain, and accompanied him to his house. Unluckily, it was so late, that Paul said if we stopped we

should be shut out from Acre; and when I looked at the sun and the distant city I had great misgivings, but it was only for a moment. The sisters were now dressed up, and standing in a door as I passed. Their dresses were Asiatic, consisting, from the waist downward, of a variety of wrappers, the outermost of which was silk, hiding the most beautiful figures under a mere bundle of habits. I went into the room and took a glass of lemonade with my watch in my hand. I would not speak of her in the morning, but now, in full dress, the interesting mother, so glowingly described by M. de la Martine, appeared in a costume a great deal beyond what is usually called low in the neck. I do not mention it as a reproach to her, for she was an Arab woman, and it was the custom of her country; and as to the young ladies-M. de la Martine had never been in America.

I had intended this for a day of rest; but I had, if possible, a harder task than on the preceding day to reach the city before the gates were closed. We pushed our donkeys till they broke down, and then got off and whipped them on before us. It was like the Irishman working his passage by hauling the towline of the canal boat; if it was not for the name of the thing, we might as well have walked; and when I lay down that night in my cell in the convent, I prayed that age might temper enthusiasm; that even the imagination of M. de la Martine might grow cool; and that old men would pay respect to their lawful wives, and not go in ecstasies about young girls.

ST. JEAN D'ACRE..

275

CHAPTER XX.

St. Jean d'Acre.-Extortions of the Pacha.-Tyre.-Questionable Com pany.-Lady Esther Stanhope.-Departure from the Holy Land--Con clusion.

I SHALL say but little of Acre. The age of chivalry is gone for ever, but there is a green spot in every man's memory, a feeble but undying spark of romance in every heart; and that man's feelings are not to be envied who could walk on the ramparts of St. Jean d'Acre without calling up Richard and Saladin, the Crusaders and the Saracens ; and when the interval of centuries is forgotten, and the imagination is revelling in the scenes of days long passed away, his illusion rises to the vividness of reality as he sees dashing by him a gallant array of Turkish horsemen, with turbans and glittering sabres, as when they sallied forth to drive back from the walls the chivalry of Europe. Near the city is a mount which is still called Richard Cœur de Lion, and from which Napoleon, pointing to the city, said to Murat, "The fate of the East depends upon yonder petty town." Constantinople and the Indies, a new empire in the East, and a change in the face of the whole world! Eight times he led his veteran soldiers to the assault; eleven times he stood the desperate sallies of the Mameluke sabres. British soldiers under Sir Sidney Smith came to the aid of the besieged; the ruins of a breached wall served as a breastwork, the muzzles of British and French muskets touched each other, and the spearheads of their standards were locked together. The bravest of his officers were killed, and the bodies of the dead soldiers lying

around putrefied under the burning sun. The pacha (Djezzar the Butcher) sat on the floor of his palace, surrounded by a heap of gory heads, distributing money to all who brought in the heads of Frenchmen, and he who was destined to overturn every throne in Europe was foiled under the walls of Acre. Three years ago it sustained, under Abdallah Pacha, a long and bloody siege from Ibrahim Pacha; and, when it fell into his hands, was given up to pillage and the flames. It has since been rebuilt, fortified with skill and science, and is now almost impregnable; full of the elite of the Egyptian army under Colonel Sêve (formerly aid to Marshal Ney), now Suliman Pacha, and constantly stored with five years' provisions. The pacha has lately been building fine hospitals for his soldiers, and an Italian apothecary, licensed to kill secundem artem, is let loose upon the sick at the low rate of a hundred dollars per annum.

I was so much pleased with the old Arab muleteer who went with me to Mount Carmel, that I hired his donkeys again for another journey. He was an old Egyptian from Damietta; four of his children had been taken for soldiers, and he and his old wife and three donkeys followed them about wherever they went. He had had two wives and sixteen children, and these were all that were left. They were all now stationed at Acre, and, when we started, two of them, not on duty at the time, were with the old man at the convent, arranging the baggage while he was taking his coffee and pipe; they accompanied us to the gate, received the old man's benediction, and returned.

A short distance from the gate we met a Turkish grandee, with his officers, slaves, and attendants. He had formerly been a collector of taxes under Abdallah Pacha, and would have done well as an office-holder under a civilized government, for he had abandoned the falling fortunes of his master in time to slip into the same office under his

successor.