Winter rains, the roofs had all been newly covered with mortar made of earth—brought from the common or uninclosed land of the hills—well mixed with straw. The newly-disturbed earth, rich in bulbs, and grass, and wild-flower seeds, had naturally attracted the birds, and as I watched them pecking and twittering there, I felt the significancy of the expression in the Psalms, which refers to the "sparrow on the house-top."
On the 30th of January, soon after sunrise, several little boys came with large bunches of the "narojus;" that is, the yellow narcissus, a favorite flower of the Arabs. The boys asked for "backshîsh," and said, "We have brought these flowers because they are called by the name of the Consul." Then I understood why many Arabs, especially children, called us "Narojus," instead of Rogers. In the afternoon I went on to the hills, where narcissus and wild hyacinths were growing in profusion. Goats were leaping and skipping from rock to rock, and enjoying the plentiful pasture. I looked down on the town. Its appearance was perfectly changed. Out of the lately-made roofs of earth fresh green grass had sprung, so that every house-top looked like a grass-plat; and on some of them lambs and kids were feeding.
But these grass-grown roofs are rarely sound enough to keep out the rain. We often heard our neighbors complaining of water pouring in torrents into their rooms, and I have sometimes been roused in the night by an unexpected sprinkling. Patches of fresh earth are added from time to time, and the roofs are rolled occasionally with a heavy stone, like a common garden-roller. One is usually kept on the top of each house, or block of houses.
When I went out, on the 11th of February, I saw laborers busy in the plain, at the foot of the Carmel Hills. Large patches of land were being plowed. The rich brown earth was thrown up by clumsy-looking plowshares, dragged by oxen. Boys were employed in gathering out stones
