steamer is here, and the day of our separation has come!" A number of our friends had already congregated at the Vice-Consulate, to say good-by, and an English traveler had come down from the convent to accompany us to Beirût. We were soon by the seaside, in the midst of a noisy crowd of boatmen, kawasses, porters, and heaps of luggage; for the French and Prussian Vice-Consuls of Hâifa, and the Père Vicaire of the Convent of Mount Carmel, were going with us.
I went off in the first boat, with Hanné and a few friends. I was anxious to hasten to the steamer, as I knew that Miss Frederica Bremer was on board. I soon found her in the saloon, and though we knew each other only by correspondence, we required no introduction. It was a great pleasure to clasp her hand, and to hear her voice. She speaks English distinctly, but with a musical foreign accent. I was in earnest conversation with her, when my maid, who was by my side crying, murmured, "Who is that stranger who is stealing from me my last moments with you? If she is not your mother, how can you look so glad while I am so full of sorrow?" I soothed her by saying, "The lady is a stranger here; she is my friend, and is traveling quite alone; she will land presently at Hâifa with you. For my sake you must try to help her. You, with the kawass, will lead her to the house of Dr. Kölle, where a room has been made ready for her."
With her usual impulsiveness, she kissed Miss Bremer's hand, saying, "I am your servant, O lady!" In about an hour I took leave of my Hâifa friends, with the expectation of seeing them again in a few months, and it was with conflicting emotions that I watched the little boats going toward the shore as we steamed out of the bay. The deck of the steamer was crowded with Russian and Greek pilgrims—men, women, and children—who had spent the Easter week in the Holy City, and to their great consolation had bathed in the waters of the River Jordan. In the pleasant airy saloon there were several passengers,
