MOUNT TABOR.

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prisoners,) he was attempting the conquest of Syria, from which he could march on Constantinople, and thus "enter Europe by the back door." His daring dream of conquest was stopped but a few miles from this by the stubborn resistance of a few English troops that held the fortress of Acre.

Here soldiers of all nations have plunged their swords in each others' breasts, and falling face to face, have cursed each other in all the languages of men. The soil is rich and heavy with the blood of countless armies. With these clouds of war hanging over it, it is not strange that in the Apocalypse, the last great conflict of the world, which is to precede the reign of universal peace, is pictured as the battle of Armageddon—that is, of Megiddo, the ancient name of the Plain of Esdraelon.

From these scenes of battle and blood, we turn to a spot associated with memories of the Prince of Peace. On the northeastern edge of the plain stands Mount Tabor, long supposed to be the mount of the Transfiguration. The tradition is now generally discredited, and the scene of that wonderful apparition is placed on Mount Hermon overlooking Banias, the ancient Cæsarea-Philippi. One cannot but regret the effect of modern research, when it disturbs a belief so long accepted, and so in accord with the fitness of the place itself. Tabor differs wholly from the other mountain of the plain, Gilboa, whose summit is bare and bleak, while Tabor is wooded and green, as if made to be pressed by angels' feet. Of majestic height, its lofty dome rising to an altitude that lifts it quite above the damps and mists of the plain into a purer atmosphere, it stands midway between earth and heaven, as if to invite visitants from the other world to an interview, from which, unseen by mortal eyes, they might return to their heavenly home.

But even Tabor fades in interest as it fades in sight, as

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the westering sun strikes on the Hills of Galilee, now rising before us. They do not rise abruptly, but by a gradual ascent, so that we wind hither and thither as we climb slowly upward, till at length we see in the distance a village nestled among the hills, in a valley so narrow as to be almost a glen. That little mountain town is Nazareth! The first glimpse hushed us, as did the first sight of Jerusalem, for we were coming upon holy ground. Before us was one of the places of pilgrimage that we most desired to see in all Palestine; as one of the few in a land under Moslem rule which is sacred only to the memory of our Lord. Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and died in Jerusalem, but the greater part of his life was spent in Nazareth. As we climbed up the steep approach, but one thought was present to us how often the Holy Child had rambled over these hills. Full of such musings, we rode through the town to the northwestern side, where we pitched our tents on a rising ground, from which we looked down into the valley. It was Saturday evening! If Burns wrote so touchingly of the Cotter's Saturday night in Scotland, what might a traveller, if he were only inspired with a little of the genius of Burns, write of the evening shades, the gathering twilight, which fell upon him on a Saturday evening in Nazareth?

SATURDAY EVENING IN NAZARETH.

CHAPTER XI.

NAZARETH-RENAN'S LIFE OF JESUS

CAN THAT LIFE

BE EXPLAINED AS IN THE ORDER OF NATURE?

This is the place! Here the real life began! Christ indeed was born in Bethlehem, but Nazareth was the home of his mother, and hither, after the flight into Egypt, he was brought, still a child; here he grew, not only to boyhood but to manhood; and except his visits to Jerusalem at the annual feasts, it may almost be said that he knew no other world than that within the circuit of these hills.

That the greater part of the life of our Lord was passed at Nazareth (he was called a Nazarene), gives it an interest to the Christian traveller above all other places in Palestine, save perhaps Bethlehem where he was born, and Jerusalem where he was crucified. Of course, it is full of localities made sacred, in tradition if not in reality, by incidents of his life. Close to the spot where we camped is an old Greek church, called the Church of the Annunciation, on the site of which it is claimed that the angel appeared to Mary and announced to her that she should bear a son and call his name Jesus. The tradition is rejected by the Latins, who are not disposed to leave to the Greeks the honor, and the profit, of being the sole possessors of a site so sacred; and who have a church of

their own, bearing the same name, and claiming to mark the same hallowed spot.

At

Of course every traveller makes the round of these holy places-visiting the house of Mary and the carpenter's shop of Joseph, the site of the synagogue in which Jesus preached, and the brow of the hill from which they would cast him down. One who inquires into the genuineness of these sites, finds that there is little to support them. Thus this scene is transferred from its natural site, a cliff within the town, "whereon the city was built," to a lofty peak two miles away, which is called the Mount of Precipitation. But it is best not to inquire into these things too narrowly, or to waste time in sifting out a few grains of wheat from the chaff of tradition. Better to rest content with things about which there can be no dispute. least the natural features of Nazareth remain unchanged. The hills which surround it are the same to which our Lord looked up from his mother's door. The centre of the ancient town was probably the Fountain which bears the Virgin's name, for in these Eastern villages the place to which all repair to draw water, is what the market place is in the little towns of Italy or of Germany. To this fountain still come the daughters of Nazareth, filling their large pitchers, or urns, from the full-flowing stream, and balancing them gracefully on their shoulders. No one can doubt that it is the same which flowed here two thousand years ago, and to which she whose name it now bears came a thousand times, often leading by the hand the wonderful child.

With such associations and traditions, Nazareth has naturally attracted pilgrims, till it has become, like Bethlehem, a Christian town. There is not a Jew in Nazareth; there are Moslems, but the Christians are in large majority, and the superior character of the population is seen in the

THE MODERN VILLAGE.

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better houses, which instead of being of mud, as in most of the villages of Palestine, are of stone, and have at least an appearance of solidity. The Christian community, as usual in the East, is divided between the Greeks and the Latins, though not in equal proportions, the Greeks being much the more numerous, although the Latins to keep up their rivalship, outdo the Greeks in architecture, their great Franciscan Convent quite overshadowing the little town.

Apart from its sacred memories, Nazareth has nothing to attract the eye of the traveller. The hills of Galilee are indeed less barren than those of Judea. But the town itself, or rather the village, has no beauty. Indeed, no Eastern village has any beauty as compared with a village of Old England, or of New England. How can a village be pretty in which all the houses are of one uniform shape and color? In an English village there is a variety of construction, which saves it from the appearance of monotony. The country house stands on a green lawn, with its central mass relieved from heaviness by its projecting porch and shaded veranda and sloping roof, with here and there angles and projections, casting shadows on its sides. Here the houses have as much variety as so many blocks of stone hewn out of a quarry. Each is a perfect cube, "the length and the breadth and the height of it are equal." The top of the house is square, like the foundation; the roof is as flat as the floor. True, these flat roofs serve a purpose in the East, where the oppressive heat restrains the outdoor life of the people, who keep indoors as much as they can in the heat of the day, but at night go up on the housetops to enjoy the cooler air, and look up into the unclouded heaven. Often they sleep on the roofs, which are thus useful if not picturesque.

The color, too, is not at all grateful to the eye. Built of the limestone of the country, the houses are of such a