As we wished to be present at the celebration of Easter by the Greek
Church, we remained several weeks at Jerusalem, during which time we
made various excursions to the most celebrated localities in the
neighbourhood. In addition to the Bible, which almost sufficed us for a
guide-book in these sacred regions, we had several books of travels with
us, and I was struck with the superiority of old Maundrell's narrative
over all the others, for he tells us plainly and clearly what he saw,
whilst other travellers so encumber their narratives with opinions and
disquisitions, that, instead of describing the country, they describe
only what they think about it; and thus little real information as to
what there was to be seen or done could be gleaned from these works,
eloquent and well written as many of them are; and we continually
returned to Maundrell's homely pages for a good plain account of what
we wished to know. As, however, I had gathered from various incidental
remarks in these books that there was a famous library in the monastery
of St. Sabba, in which one might expect to find all the lost classics,
whole rows of uncial manuscripts, and perhaps the histories of the
Preadamite kings in the autograph of Jemshid, I determined to go and see
it.

It was of course necessary for every traveller at Jerusalem to "_do his
Dead Sea_;" and accordingly we made arrangements for an excursion in
that direction, which was to include a visit to St. Sabba; for my
companion kindly put up with my aberrations, and agreed to linger with
me for that purpose on our way to Jericho, although it was at the risk
of falling among thieves, for we heard all manner of reports of the
danger of the roads, and of a certain truculent Robin Hood sort of
person, called Abou Gash, who had just got out of some prison or other.

Abou Gash was vastly popular in this part of the country: everybody
spoke well of him, and declared that "he was the mildest-mannered man
that ever cut a throat or scuttled ship;" but they all hinted that it
might be as well to keep out of his way, and that, when we went
cantering about the country, poking our noses into caves, and ruins, and
other _uncanny_ places, it would be advisable to keep a "good" look-out.
For all this we cared little: so, getting together our merry men, we
sallied forth through St. Stephen's gate. A gallant band we were, some
five-and-twenty horsemen, well armed in the Egyptian style; with tents
and kettles,