We Encamped Outside The Town,
And, Having Visited The Tomb Of “Our Mother Eve,” Mounted Our Camels For
Meccah.
After a journey of twenty hours across the Desert, we passed the
barriers which mark the outermost limits of
The sacred city, and,
ascending some giant steps, pitched our tents on a plain, or rather
plateau, surrounded by barren rock, some of which, distant but a few
yards, mask from view the birthplace of the Prophet. It was midnight; a
few drops of rain were falling, and lightning played around us. Day
after day we had watched its brightness from the sea, and many a
faithful haji had pointed out to his companions those fires which were
Heaven’s witness to the sanctity of the spot. “Al hamdu Lillah!” Thanks be to
God! we were now at length to gaze upon the “Kiblah,” to which every
Mussulman has turned in prayer since the days of Muhammad, and which
for long ages before the birth of Christianity was reverenced by the
Patriarchs of the East. Soon after dawn arose from our midst the shout
of “Labbaik! Labbaik!” and passing
[p.411] between the rocks, we found ourselves in the main street of
Meccah, and approached the “Gateway of Salvation,” one of the thirty-nine
portals of the Temple of Al-Haram.
On crossing the threshold we entered a vast unroofed quadrangle, a
mighty amplification of the Palais Royal, having on each of its four
sides a broad colonnade, divided into three aisles by a multitude of
slender columns, and rising to the height of about thirty feet.
Surmounting each arch of the colonnade is a small dome:
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