CHAPTER XIII.
FROM JERUSALEM TO HÂIFA.
On Friday, July 25th, all was in readiness for our return to Hâifa by way of Yâfa. Khawadja Ody Azam, of Nablûs, had arranged to accompany us, and we started about one hour before sunset.
We hastened along the valleys and over the hills, now quite familiar to me, and reached Kyriat el Enab-commonly called Abu Ghôsh — at nine o'clock. Close to the village there is a large, smooth, circular platform of earth, slightly raised and surrounded by large stones and shrubs. A gigantic mulberry-tree stands in the center. Under its shade the chief men of the village assemble nearly every day. It is their council-chamber, their exchange, their lounging-place, and their play-ground. They smoke, they sleep, they play at draughts and other games, and transact all kinds of business there. This spot is the favorite camping-ground of travelers, and here we alighted. My brother led me over the stones on to the platform. Two or three lanterns were hanging from the tree-branches, and shone upon a little party of Moslems, who were seated in a circle just beneath. They rose on seeing us, and greeted us gravely. A large reed-mat, rolled up and leaning against the tree-trunk, was immediately put down for us.
Our arrival was made known to Hajj Mustafa Abu Ghôsh, the Governor. He sent us his greetings, with some melons, grapes, coffee, and a couple of wax candles. The latter, for want of candlesticks, we stuck in the ground. A white cloth spread over the mat served as our supper-table. The Moslems watched us in perfect silence while we chatted over our cold roast chickens.
