of his age, is now
a church of the Syrian Christians, who were performing a doleful mass, in
Arabic, at the time of my visit. It is a vaulted apartment, about forty
feet long, and only the lower part of the wall is ancient. At each of
these places, the Nazarene put into my hand a piece of pasteboard, on
which was printed a prayer in Latin, Italian, and Arabic, with the
information that whoever visited the place, and made the prayer, would be
entitled to seven years' indulgence. I duly read all the prayers, and,
accordingly, my conscience ought to be at rest for twenty-one years.

Chapter VII.

The Country of Galilee.

Departure from Nazareth--A Christian Guide--Ascent of Mount
Tabor--Wallachian Hermits--The Panorama of Tabor--Ride to Tiberias--A
Bath in Genesareth--The Flowers of Galilee--The Mount of
Beatitude--Magdala--Joseph's Well--Meeting with a Turk--The Fountain of
the Salt-Works--The Upper Valley of the Jordan--Summer Scenery--The
Rivers of Lebanon--Tell el-Kadi--An Arcadian Region--The Fountains of
Banias.

"Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green,
And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene;
And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see
The gleam of thy waters, O dark Galilee!"--Whittier.

Banias (Caesarea Philippi), _May_ 10, 1852.

We left Nazareth on the morning of the 8th inst. My companion had done so
well under the care of Fra Joachim that he was able to ride, and our
journey was not delayed by his accident. The benedictions of the good
Franciscans accompanied us as we rode away from the Convent, past the
Fountain of the Virgin, and out of the pleasant little valley where the
boy Jesus wandered for many peaceful years. The Christian guide we engaged
for Mount Tabor had gone ahead, and we did not find him until we had
travelled for more than two hours among the hills. As we approached the
sacred mountain, we came upon the region of oaks--the first oak I had seen
since leaving Europe last autumn. There are three or four varieties, some
with evergreen foliage, and in their wild luxuriance and the
picturesqueness of their forms and groupings, they resemble those of
California. The sea of grass and flowers in which they stood was sprinkled
with thick tufts of wild oats--another point of resemblance to the latter
country. But here, there is no gold; there, no sacred memories.

The guide was waiting for us beside a spring, among the trees. He was a
tall youth of about