CHAPTER LII. 
THE DESOLATE CITY, 
This was a dreary day ; from the rising of the sun nothing 
in sight but a waste of waters on the left, a desert plain on 
the right, and the blanched and rugged heights of Carmel dim 
in the distance. Our road lay along the coast of Phoenicia, 
over barren rocks and beds of sand, all parched and shadow¬ 
less. 
Evening came, and thick clouds covered the sky; the sun 
was hid in the gloom ; there was neither heat nor cold, nor 
glare nor darkness ; hut a dim, death-like pall was outspread 
hpon the earth. No bird of the air or beast of the field was 
in sight; no sound broke upon the stillness but the sad moan¬ 
ing of the surf; no sign of life, or hope, or promise was within 
the last sweep of desolation around. 
We rode silently on our way ; and about the seventh hour 
of our journey from El Mukhalid, we beheld afar upon the 
shore a ruined city. 
Fragments of walls 
and towers rent asun¬ 
der, and masses of 
ramparts, shattered by 
earthquakes and the 
ravages of war, loomed 
darkly through the 
haze. The Arabs 
stopped, and, point¬ 
ing to the ruins, said 
that there lay all that 
was left of Cesarea. 
VILLAGE OF EL MUKHALID 
