MY HOME IN PALESTINE. 127 



jecting point at its furthest extremity discern the out- 

 lines of the noble ruin of Athlit. Skirting the base 

 of the range for half an hour more, we reach a 

 narrow gorge, and in order to explore it, have to 

 leave our carriage, and proceed on foot. So far the 

 scenery has been treeless. Carmel, rugged and 

 barren, has been on our left, and a strip of plain 

 with the sea on our right ; but here, to our surprise, 

 pent up between the projecting flanks of the moun 

 tain, we come upon a garden of figs, olives, and 

 pomegranates. It is not above a hundred yards 

 across, but it wedges itself up into the mountain till 

 it becomes a strip scarce three trees wide, and then 

 we suddenly come upon the cause of all this fertility. 

 Gushing from a cleft in the limestone rock is a rill 

 of purest water, conducted into a tank about twelve 

 feet square, hewn out of the solid rock, perhaps by 

 the old monks, probably by men more or less holy 

 far anterior to them ; for since the time of Elijah, 

 Carmel has been celebrated for its sacred character, 

 and has been much affected in consequence by 

 devotees. Among the Jews, it takes rank for sanctity 

 immediately after Sinai, being the second most sacred 

 mountain in the world. There is something about 

 this solitary spot, replete with the traces of a handi- 

 work of the remote past, which cannot fail to impress 

 the beholder. But there are other surprises in store 

 for him. Looking up the valley, we perceive that it 

 seems at one time or other to have been spanned by 



