were more and more scattered, and at the foot of the hill only low brushwood grew.
We cantered across the plain, and ascended a low rounded hill, on which stood a village, literally formed of dust and ashes. The mud-hovels looked like dust-heaps, and their interiors were little better than dust-holes; but out of these abodes heaps of clothing crawled, scarcely looking like human beings, till they slowly rose, assuming forms of strange grace and dignity, and gazed at us with serious and untroubled eyes. We saw a group of old women leaning over a square hole dug in the ground. Saleh told me that this was the village oven. The bottom of it glowed with red heat. The fuel, composed of peat and dried dung,[1] was partially covered with stones, upon which thin flat loaves are thrown and quickly baked. When quite new, the bread thus prepared is crisp outside and rather soft within; but, when a day old, it is of the consistency of leather, and very indigestible. The women, in their dusky vails and dresses, crouching round that primitive oven, reminded me of the incantation scene in "Macbeth." The children of the place were beautiful, though bronzed by the sun, and smeared with dust and dirt. Some were clothed in rags of all colors, but the majority were quite naked.
We looked back across the plain; the sun had gone down behind the wooded hills, and red watch-fires gleamed here and there on the terraces and in the plain—guides and beacons for the shepherds and the fellahîn. Presently a party of wild-looking Arabs met us. Their leader was the son of a cavalry officer, who had just been dismissed from Turkish service. He and his followers were desperate fellows, noted for deeds of daring. They saluted us, and said that they had come on purpose to meet and escort us to Nazareth. This was quite an impromptu invention, for no one but Mr. Finn knew of our intention to go
- ↑ See Ezekiel iv, 15: "Lo! I have given thee cow's dung,and thou shalt prepare thy bread therewith."
