Our horses were waiting at the gate, which was kept open for us. A few stragglers were hastily entering in, but immediately after we had passed out, the heavy doors were closed, to be opened no more till sunrise.
The stars were coming out as we rode homeward, across the valley of Hinnom, and through an inclosed plantation belonging to the Greek community, in the center of which, by a well, under the trees, sat a group of Arabs in a circle on cushioned mats, singing lustily, and swaying their bodies to and fro slowly, in time with the monotonous tune which they sang. A large lantern, hanging from a tree-branch above, lighted up the figures and their many-colored garments, producing striking effects of light and shade.
We were soon on the Talibîyeh grounds. An immense number of vividly-bright glow-worms bordered the rocky path which led toward the house. I found that by placing a few of them together, on a stone or cool place, I could see to read by the green light which shone from their lantern-like bodies.
The next morning we rode down the Valley of the Cross, and over hills covered with rocks, poterium spinosum, and brambles, toward the little village of Lifta, near to which, in a beautiful olive grove on a terraced hill-side, Bishop Gobat and the Rev. H. Crawford had encamped with their large families. Their tents were picturesquely distributed under the shade of large trees.
There was no house on the grounds to serve as a retreat or shelter in the heat of the day, as on the Talibîyeh, but the trees under which Mrs. Gobat's pretty drawing-room or day tent was pitched, served almost as effectually as a protection from the sun. Sofas, cushions, easy chairs, writing tables and work tables, children with their dolls or lesson books, made the place look quite homely, and took away the idea of the transitory nature of tent life. Mrs. Gobat gave me a hearty welcome there, and introduced me to her friends who came from the surrounding tents, and to the children, who left their studies or their play to welcome us.
