There was no more rain, and the sun was daily increasing in power. English travelers continued to arrive every few days, and I often had the pleasure of accompanying and guiding them in their "Walks about Jerusalem," and their excursions in the neighborhood.
Roses were abundant at this time. It was the season for making rose-water and conserves. The peasant-women brought basket-loads of roses into town every morning. Often at sunrise these women might be seen pausing on their way by a streamlet, to empty their baskets into the rippling water, literally making a bed of roses for the river. Perhaps they do this, as they say, only to wash their flowers, and to make them keep fresh and look as if wet with dew; but I think it is more probable that they wish to make their roses heavy, for they sell them in the market by weight.
On Wednesday, May 7th, a hot, oppressive, sirocco wind prevailed. Early in the afternoon I rode out with little Skander Finn and his cousin L. We went down into the valley of Hinnom, where hawthorns, covered with pink and white blossom, scented the air. The olive-trees were in flower, and the fig-trees green with fresh leaves. We passed the Aceldama, and reached En Rogel. There was no water in the rocky river-bed; however, it had not flowed in vain. The reservoirs were filled, and the parched earth revived. We went a little way down the valley, crossed the dry bed, and dismounted. We climbed half-way up the hill on the left-hand side, and reached a ledge or natural terrace in front of a steep cliff, which L. assured me was caverned, though no signs of a cavern could be seen. The ledge was so overgrown with tall thistles that it was difficult to find a footing; we beat these down, and found the door which they concealed. The top of the door was only slightly above the level of the terrace, which sloped abruptly down to it, like the entrance to an underground cellar, but without any steps. With the help of Hadj Ali and his stick, and by clinging to roots and weeds, we contrived to slide
