I have come up out of the land of Egypt, out of the Israelitish “house of bondage,” and am to-day on the edge of the Promised Land. I am at Jaffa, the ancient Joppa, and the port for the Holy City. When Jacob went down from the highlands of Samaria to the Land of Goshen to meet Joseph, his journey took several weeks. I made the trip in the opposite direction by land and sea in less than a day.

I took the express train at Cairo and in four hours was landed at Port Said, at the mouth of the Suez Canal, where I got a steamer which brought me to Jaffa. The whole way was through the lands of the Bible. We struck the canal at Ismailia, about midway of the Isthmus of Suez, and thence rode northward along its banks to Port Said.

Our steamer was crowded with pilgrims from Russia, Egypt, and north Africa. There were many Americans, French, and Germans travelling first class, and hundreds of Syrians and Egyptians going steerage. The Russian pilgrims were particularly interesting to me. Old men and old women, with honest faces full of intelligence and goodness, they held their religious services all over the third-class portion of the ship, and I spent two hours watching them as one after another they turned their faces toward the Holy City and prayed, crossing themselves, and now and then getting down upon their knees and bumping their heads against the deck in their worship. They were curiously dressed and many of them wore long fur coats. Some had high fur hats and looked as if they had just stepped out of one of Tolstoi’s novels. I was especially impressed with the strength of character shown in their faces and with their magnificent physique. If all of Russia’s millions are of the same mould as those who make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, they will some day prove to the world that there is in them as good stuff as ever made history or built up a civilization. The women, with their strong, motherly faces made heroic by toil and privation, were equally as striking as the men. They were better looking than any other peasant women I have ever seen, and the old saying of the Greeks came to me as I looked at them: “If strong be the frame of the mother, her sons shall make laws for the people.”

As the ship approached the Holy Land the people broke out into prayers, and in some cases into tears. It is a religious pilgrimage for them and they think, I doubt not, that in making it they are coming nearer to heaven.

We had our first view of the shores of Palestine at seven o’clock in the morning, after a night on the steamer. We had been awakened at six with the cry that we were nearing shore, but this was a ruse of the captain to get breakfast out of the way before landing.

When I came up on deck nothing but the sea was in sight. The sun was about two hours high and the sky, a light blue with long streaks of fleecy white drawn like a half-veil over it, curved down into the ocean at the eastern horizon. As I looked I saw two lines of hazy gray rise up out of the water, which rippled in sapphire wavelets, caught by the sun. The first line was the sandy beach that edges the rich plains of Sharon and the second the wall of smoky gray which marks the hills of Judea or the highlands of Palestine. As we came nearer, these lines increased in size, until the first turned to dazzling white sand, out of which a little later the wooded green strip marking the port of Jaffa came into view. Nearer still we could see the shipping in the harbour, and above and behind it the walls of this, one of the oldest towns of the world.

We get some idea of the age of Jaffa from the story of Jonah; for the Bible says that it was from here Jonah took passage upon the ship from which he was thrown into the sea into the mouth of the whale. He remained in the whale’s belly for three days, during which time he prayed to the Lord, and the Lord spake to the whale, whereupon he was vomited out upon dry land. Jonah was born about eight hundred and fifty years before Christ. He was a baby when, according to some authorities, Homer was telling the story of the Iliad, and a hundred years had yet to elapse before the founding of Rome. I am not sure as to the exact spot where Jonah was taken up by the sailors and thrown into the sea, but he is said to have been buried not far from Jerusalem, and there are dragomans who will show you his tomb. Ever since Jonah’s time sailors have been superstitious about having preachers along, thinking that such passengers bring bad luck to a ship.

The harbour of Jaffa is one of the worst in the world. It is almost always rough and often so much so that it is impossible to land. Upon our arrival there was such a swell that the boats which took us ashore bobbed up and down and the waves soaked our baggage.

As to Jonah himself and his narrow escape, one of our preachers on board has quoted a new version of why he and the whale parted company:

In coming in I looked for whales. There were none in sight, although I am told they are still to be seen in the Mediterranean. In their place, however, were many jellyfish of an opalescent blue. These fish were as big as a football and of the shape of a mushroom. There were hundreds of them floating about and bumping against the hull of our ship as we lay at anchor.

Besides the story of Jonah there are many well-authenticated facts about Jaffa which make it interesting. It has always been the chief port for the Holy Land. It was at one time owned by the Phœnicians, and later, when Solomon built the temple, it was here that the timber used in its construction was landed. Most of this was cedar which came from the forests of Lebanon several hundred miles up the coast. The logs were dragged down the mountains and thrown into the sea at Tyre and Sidon. They were there made into rafts and towed down to Jaffa, whence they were carried up to Jerusalem by camels and men.

Jaffa was an important port in the days of the Crusades, and was fought for again and again. At one time its walls were overthrown by Saladin, but a little later they were rebuilt by Richard the Lion-hearted, the King of England, who came here in a vain attempt to rescue the Holy Sepulchre from the hands of the Turks. In addition to all this there is a tradition that Andromeda, the beautiful daughter of the mythical king of this country, was here chained to the rocks in order that she might appease a huge sea serpent which threatened to eat up the people. While so imperilled she was rescued by Perseus, who killed the monster and married her. In Pliny’s time the historians state that the chains by which Andromeda was bound to the rocks were still to be seen, and that the bones of the sea serpent were carried to Rome and placed upon exhibition there.

The Jaffa of to-day stands upon a bluff washed by the Mediterranean Sea. The city is built right on the rocks, with its yellow, white, and blue houses coming down to the cliff edge. They rise up the steep sides of the bluff which makes a wall cutting off the view of the country behind. At the south of the bluff, as far as one can see, are white sands. At the north are orange groves and then more sand.

As we left the ship we came down a gangway and were lifted into the boats. The third-class and steerage passengers were hung over the sides of the deck of the steamer by the arms, and dropped down into the boats, twelve or more feet below. Some of the women screamed as they fell, making the rocks reëcho with their cries as though the beautiful Andromeda were still chained there. We had no trouble with the customs, largely, I believe, because our dragomans had given the officers a liberal amount of baksheesh. The examination was short, and within half an hour after landing we were comfortably housed at the Jerusalem Hotel. I mention this hotel because I found it was kept by a character who was for a long time our American consular agent. His name is Hardegg, and he spices his food with a religious doctrine of his own kind. The hotel rooms are not numbered 1, 2, 3, etc., but are named after the sons of Israel and the various Old Testament prophets. Each of them contains a book which Hardegg has compiled entitled “Bible Pills.” It is composed of texts from the Scriptures fitted to one’s daily life.

The city of Jaffa has normally about fifty thousand inhabitants of whom the majority are Mohammedans and the rest Christians and Jews. It has considerable trade and is rapidly growing. The rich plains of Sharon at the back furnish sesame, grain, and olive oil, while the highlands of Judea and Samaria produce wool, just as they did in the times of our Saviour. All about the town are orange groves the fruit of which is shipped to all parts of the Mediterranean. The oranges are almost the shape of a lemon, but they are of a great size and sweet as honey. They are packed up in boxes at the groves and carried down to the harbour on the backs of camels. I met the caravans of these huge beasts swaying along as they made their way to the steamers.

I was taken through the native quarters of Jaffa by a young Syrian named Moses. We went together through streets so narrow and winding that carriages could not enter them, and at times we were altogether shaded by the houses, the roofs of which almost touched overhead. We entered several of the dwellings. Each consisted of but one room facing a court where the men, women, and children were herded together.

The house of Simon the Tanner was destroyed some centuries ago, but another house, which is probably of the same character, stands on its site, and tanning is still done in the neighbourhood. At least, it seems so by the smells. This house is now used as a second-class inn. It is a rocky structure, built high up over the sea, with steps outside which lead to the second story and roof. I climbed to the top, and there saw about the same view as did St. Peter. In front of me the blue Mediterranean stretched out toward the west. At the north were the glistening sands reaching toward the ruins of Cæsarea and the foothills of Mount Carmel, while at the south were the hills near which stood Askalon. It was here that St. Peter had that wonderful dream, in which he beheld all the beasts of the world let down from heaven in a sheet, in order that he might eat of them. You remember that he refused, saying: “Not so, Lord! for I have never eaten anything that is common or unclean.”

And then came a voice which said: “What God hath cleansed that call not thou common.”

It was these words that first led to the preaching of the Gospel to the Gentiles, bringing about the conversion of Cornelius, the Roman centurion, and later on the preaching of Christ to all the world.

As my guide refreshed my biblical memory with this story, he told me of an American who had visited this place with him last week. Said Moses:

“This American was a funny man, and it seemed to me a foolish one. He was not satisfied with seeing this house, but he asked me to show him the vision that St. Peter saw, and demanded to know what had become of the sheet. He said he did not think he ought to pay me unless I could show him the vision, but I told him that I could not do that unless he had St. Peter’s heart, and I was sure that he had not.”

This American was probably facetious, but his questions are not unlike those of many of the tourists whose ignorance and superstition surpass belief. Many of them credit the most extravagant stories of every guide, and go about kissing spots which they imagine to be hallowed by their connection with the Bible, but of whose authenticity no one knows.

There is one thing I must not forget about Jaffa, and that is that here was born the modern sewing bee, I might almost say the Woman’s Missionary Society. You have all heard of Dorcas, the queen of the needle, who was raised from the dead by St. Peter. She was noted for the garments she had made for the poor, and at her funeral the people gathered round and showed specimens of the needlework she had sewed and hemmed and stitched for them.

Dorcas lived two or three miles outside Jaffa on a hill which has a commanding view of the country for miles around. It overlooks the sea and land, including thousands of acres of orange groves and gardens containing all kinds of fruits. The site of her house is now occupied by a Russian Greek Catholic Church and a tomb has been erected over her grave hard by.

I drove out to the place in a carriage, winding my way in and out through orange groves and up the hill to the church. Here I met a Russian priest, who was acquiring merit by guarding the bones of the saint in whose honour prayers are said daily. It was with him that I visited the tomb. It is of stone and is roofed by a dome, the whole being covered with plaster. There is a door at the front, and by descending several steps one can see the piece of mosaic which covers the spot where Dorcas lies. There are catacombs to the right and left containing the bones of saints, and over the whole rise magnificent trees.