There, On The Other Side Of The
River (You Can Swim It With One Arm), There Reigns The People That
Will Be Like To Put You To Death For NOT Being A Vagrant, For NOT
Being A Robber, For NOT Being Armed And Houseless.
There is
comfort in that - health, comfort, and strength to one who is dying
from very weariness of that poor, dear, middle-aged, deserving,
accomplished, pedantic, and painstaking governess, Europe.
I had ridden for some hours along the right bank of Jordan when I
came to the Djesr el Medjame (an old Roman bridge, I believe),
which crossed the river. My Nazarene guide was riding ahead of the
party, and now, to my surprise and delight, he turned leftwards,
and led on over the bridge. I knew that the true road to Jerusalem
must be mainly by the right bank of Jordan, but I supposed that my
guide was crossing the bridge at this spot in order to avoid some
bend in the river, and that he knew of a ford lower down by which
we should regain the western bank. I made no question about the
road, for I was but too glad to set my horse's hoofs upon the land
of the wandering tribes. None of my party except the Nazarene knew
the country. On we went through rich pastures upon the eastern
side of the water. I looked for the expected bend of the river,
but far as I could see it kept a straight southerly course; I still
left my guide unquestioned.
The Jordan is not a perfectly accurate boundary betwixt roofs and
tents, for soon after passing the bridge I came upon a cluster of
huts. Some time afterwards the guide, upon being closely
questioned by my servants, confessed that the village which we had
left behind was the last that we should see, but he declared that
he knew a spot at which we should find an encampment of friendly
Bedouins, who would receive me with all hospitality. I had long
determined not to leave the East without seeing something of the
wandering tribes, but I had looked forward to this as a pleasure to
be found in the desert between El Arish and Egypt; I had no idea
that the Bedouins on the east of Jordan were accessible. My
delight was so great at the near prospect of bread and salt in the
tent of an Arab warrior, that I wilfully allowed my guide to go on
and mislead me. I saw that he was taking me out of the straight
route towards Jerusalem, and was drawing me into the midst of the
Bedouins; but the idea of his betraying me seemed (I know not why)
so utterly absurd, that I could not entertain it for a moment. I
fancied it possible that the fellow had taken me out of my route in
order to attempt some little mercantile enterprise with the tribe
for which he was seeking, and I was glad of the opportunity which I
might thus gain of coming in contact with the wanderers.
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