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A TRIP ABROAD

An Account of a Journey to the Earthly Canaan and the Land of the
Ancient Pharaohs

To Which Are Appended

A Brief Consideration of the Geography and History of Palestine,
and a Chapter on Churches of Christ in Great Britain

BY

DON CARLOS JANES

1905







[Illustration: "Striving for the Faith of the Gospel."
Don Carlos Janes.]



_"Go, little booke, God send thee good passage,
And specially let this be thy prayere:
Unto them all that will thee read or hear,
Where thou art wrong, after their help to call,
Thee to correct in any part or all."_

CHAUCER.




PREFACE.


In this volume the author has made an effort to describe his journey to
Palestine and Egypt. It is his desire that the book may be interesting
and instructive to its readers. The chapter on the geography of
Palestine, if studied with a good map, will probably be helpful to many.
The historic sketch of the land may serve as an outline of the important
events in the history of that interesting country. It is desired that
the last chapter may give American readers a better understanding of the
work of churches of Christ in Great Britain.

This book is not a classic, but the author has tried to give a truthful
account of a trip, which, to him, was full of interest and not without
profit. No doubt some errors will be found, but even the critical reader
may make some allowance when it is known that the writing, with the
exception of a small part, was done in a period of eighty days. During
this time, the writer was also engaged in evangelistic work, speaking
every day without a single exception, and as often as four times on some
of the days. That the careful reading of the following pages may be
profitable, is the desire of THE AUTHOR.

BOWLING GREEN, KY., October 21, 1905.




ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.


Several books have been consulted in preparing this one. "Lands of the
Bible," by J.W. McGarvey, has been very helpful. The same is true of
Edmund Sherman Wallace's "Jerusalem the Holy." Much information has been
obtained from the "Historical Geography of Bible Lands," by John B.
Calkin. Other works consulted were: "Recent Discoveries on the Temple
Hill," by James King; the "Bible Atlas," by Jesse L. Hurlbut; "Galilee
in the Time of Christ," by Selah Merrill; "City of the Great King," by
J.T. Barclay; "Palestine," by C.R. Conder; Smith's "Bible Dictionary";
"Century Dictionary and Cyclopaedia"; "Columbian Encyclopaedia," and
"Encyclopaedia Britannica."

The chapter on Churches of Christ in Great Britain and Ireland was read
before publication by Bro. Ivie Campbell, Jr., of Kirkcaldy, Scotland,
who made some suggestions for its improvement. Bro. J.W. McGarvey, of
Lexington, Ky., kindly read the chapters on the Geography and History of
Palestine, and made some corrections. Selah Merrill, United States
Consul at Jerusalem, has given some information embodied in the Historic
Sketch of Palestine. Acknowledgement of the helpful services of my wife,
and of Miss Delia Boyd, of Atpontley, Tenn., is hereby made.




TABLE OF CONTENTS.


CHAPTER I.
SCOTLAND AND ENGLAND

CHAPTER II.
CROSSING EUROPE

CHAPTER III.
ASIA MINOR AND SYRIA

CHAPTER IV.
A FEW DAYS IN GALILEE

CHAPTER V.
SIGHT-SEEING IN JERUSALEM

CHAPTER VI.
SIDE TRIPS FROM JERUSALEM

CHAPTER VII.
EGYPT, THE LAND OF TOMBS AND TEMPLES

CHAPTER VIII.
GEOGRAPHY OF PALESTINE

CHAPTER IX.
HISTORIC SKETCH OF PALESTINE

CHAPTER X.
CHURCHES OF CHRIST IN GREAT BRITAIN




CHAPTER I.

SCOTLAND AND ENGLAND.


When I was a "boy on a farm," one of my school teachers had a small
machine, which was sometimes used to print the names of students in
their books. Somehow I came to want a "printing press," and after a
while I purchased an outfit for fifteen cents, but it was a poor thing
and failed to satisfy me. Accordingly, I disposed of it and spent a
larger sum for a typewriter, which was little more than a toy. This,
too, was unsatisfactory, and I sold it. At a later date, I bought a
second-hand typewriter, which was turned in as part payment for the
machine I am now using to write this book, and now, after all these
successive steps, I find myself possessed of a real typewriter. I will
also mention my youthful desire for a watch. I wanted a timepiece and
thought I would like for it to be of small size. I thought of it when
awake, and, sometimes, when asleep, dreamed that I actually had the
little watch in my possession. Since those days of dreams and
disappointments, I have had three watches, and they have all been of
small size.

In the same way, several years ago, I became possessed of a desire to
see the Land of Promise, the earthly Canaan. I thought about it some,
and occasionally spoke of it. There were seasons when the desire left
me, but it would come back again. Some years ago, when I was doing
evangelistic work in Canada, the desire returned--this time to stay. It
grew stronger and stronger until I decided to make the trip, which was
begun on the eleventh of July, 1904. After traveling many thousands of
miles, seeing numerous new and interesting sights, making many pleasant
acquaintances, and having a variety of experiences, I returned to the
home of my father on the fourteenth day of December, having been absent
five months and three days, and having had a more extensive trip than I
had at first thought of taking. There is a lesson in the foregoing that
I do not want overlooked. It is this: Whatever we earnestly desire is
apt to be worked out in our lives. Deeds usually begin with thoughts. If
the thoughts are fostered and cultivated, the deeds will probably be
performed some time. It is, therefore, important that we exercise care
as to the kind of thoughts we allow to remain in our hearts. "Keep thy
heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life" (Prov.
iv. 23).

On the way to New York, I stopped in Washington and saw some of the
interesting places of the National Capital. The Bureau of Engraving and
Printing, where about six hundred persons were engaged in printing paper
money and stamps, was visited. I also went out to the Washington
Monument and climbed to the top of the winding stairs, although I might
have gone up in the free elevator if I had preferred to ride. The
Medical Museum, National Museum, Treasury Building, the White House, the
Capitol, and other points of interest received attention, and my short
stay in this city was very enjoyable.

I spent a night in Philadelphia, after an absence of more than four
years, and enjoyed a meeting with the church worshiping on Forty-sixth
Street. It was very pleasant to meet those I had known when I was there
before, some of whom I had been instrumental in bringing to Christ. In
New York I made arrangements to sail for Glasgow on the S.S. Mongolian,
of the Allan Line, which was to sail at eleven o'clock on the fourteenth
of July, and the voyage was begun almost as promptly as a railway train
leaves the depot. We passed the Statue of Liberty a few minutes before
noon, and then I prepared some mail to be sent back by the pilot who
took us down to the sea. The water was smooth almost all the way across,
and we reached the desired haven on the eleventh day. I went back to my
room the first morning after breakfast and was lying in my berth when a
gentleman came along and told me I would have to get up, they were
going to have _inspection_. I arose and found part of the crew scrubbing
the floor and others washing down a wall. Everything was being put in
good condition for the examination to be given by some of the officers
who passed through each day at about ten o'clock. The seamen knew the
inspection was sure to come, and they knew the hour at which it would
take place, so they made ready for it. We know that there is a great
"inspection" day appointed when God will judge the world, but we do not
know the exact time. It is, therefore, important to be ready always,
that the day may not overtake us "as a thief in the night."

Religious services were held on the ship each Lord's day, but I missed
the last meeting. On the first Sunday morning I arose as usual and ate
breakfast. As there was no opportunity to meet with brethren and break
bread in memory of the Lord Jesus, I read the account of the giving of
the Lord's Supper as recorded in Matthew, Mark, and John; also Paul's
language concerning the institution in the eleventh chapter of the first
Corinthian letter, and was thankful that my life had been spared until
another beautiful resurrection morning. At half past ten o'clock I went
into one of the dining rooms where two ministers were conducting a
meeting. The order of the service, as nearly as I can give it, was as
follows: Responsive reading of the twenty-third and twenty-fourth
Psalms; prayer; the hymn, "Onward, Christian Soldiers"; reading of the
twenty-ninth Psalm; prayer; the hymn, "Lead, Kindly Light"; an address
on "Knowing God"; prayer; the collection, taken while singing; and the
benediction. The ship furnished Bibles and hymn-books. A large copy of
the Bible was placed upon a British flag at the head of one of the
tables where the speaker stood, but he read from the American Revised
Version of the Scriptures. The sermon was commenced by some remarks to
the effect that man is hard to please. Nothing earthly satisfies him,
but Thomas expressed the correct idea when he said: "Show us the Father
and it sufficeth us." The minister then went on to speak of God as "the
God of patience," "the God of comfort," "the God of hope," and "the God
of peace." It was, with some exceptions, a pleasing and uplifting
address. There were about thirty persons in attendance, and the
collection was for the Sailors' Orphans' Home in Scotland. The following
is one verse of the closing hymn:

"A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come,
And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb;
Then, oh, my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day,
Oh, wash me in thy precious blood
And take my sins away."

Before the close of the day, I read the whole of Mark's record of the
life of our Savior and turned my Bible over to Gus, the steward. We had
food served four times, as usual. The sea was smooth and the day passed
quietly. A Catholic gentleman said something at breakfast about "saying
a few prayers" to himself, and I heard a woman, in speaking about going
to church, say she had beads and a prayer-book with her. Later in the
day I saw her out on the deck with a novel, and what I supposed to be
the prayer-book, but she was reading the novel.

Several of the passengers had reading matter with them. Some read
novels, but my Book was far better than any of these. It has a greater
Author, a wider range of history, more righteous laws, purer morals, and
more beautiful description than theirs. It contains a longer and better
love story than theirs, and reveals a much grander Hero. The Bible both
moralizes and Christianizes those who permit its holy influence to move
them to loving obedience of the Lord Jesus. It can fill its thoughtful
reader with holy hope and lead him into the realization of that hope. It
is a Book adapted to all men everywhere, and the more carefully it is
read the greater the interest in it and the profit from it become. It is
the volume that teaches us how to live here that we may live hereafter,
and in the dying hour no one will regret having been a diligent student
of its matchless pages of divine truth and wisdom.

The last Lord's day of the voyage the ship reached Moville, Ireland,
where a small vessel came out and took off the passengers for
Londonderry. The tilled land, visible from the ship, reminded me of a
large garden. Some time that night we anchored in the harbor at
Greenock, near the mouth of the River Clyde. About one o'clock the
second steward came in, calling out: "Janes!" I answered from my berth
and heard him call out: "Don Carlos Janes!" Again I answered and learned
that he had some mail for me. I told him to hand it in, not remembering
that the door was locked, but that made no difference, for he handed it
in anyhow, but the locking arrangement on that door needed repairing
after he went away. I arose and examined the two pieces of mail, which
were from friends, giving me directions as to where I should go when the
ship got up to Glasgow, twenty-two miles from the sea. There was but one
case of sea sickness reported on the whole voyage. There was one death,
but the corpse was carried into port instead of being buried at sea.

The home of Brother and Sister Henry Nelmes, which was my home while I
staid in Glasgow, is nicely located. Brother Nelmes and his wife are
excellent people, and treated me with much kindness. Glasgow is a large
and important city, with many interesting places in it. The Municipal
Building with its marble stairs, alabaster balustrade, onyx columns, and
other ornamentation, is attractive on the inside, but the exterior
impressed me more with the idea of stability than of beauty. The old
Cathedral, which I visited twice, is in an excellent state of
preservation, although founded in the eleventh century. There is an
extensive burial ground adjoining the Cathedral, and one of the
prominent monuments is at the grave of John Knox, the reformer. These
impressive words, written from memory, were spoken by the Regent at the
burial of Knox, and have been carved upon his monument: "Here lieth he
who never feared the face of man, who was often threatened with dag and
dagger, yet hath ended his days in peace and honor." Carlyle spoke of
him as a man "fearing God, without any other fear."

One day I visited the birth-place of Robert Burns, at Ayr, a point not
far from Glasgow. I not only saw the "lowly thatched cottage," but a
monument to the poet, "Auld Kirk Alloway," the "brig o' Doon," and many
interesting articles in the museum. When the street car came to a
standstill, I had the old church and cemetery on my right hand, and the
monument on my left hand, while a man was standing in the road, ahead of
us, blowing a cornet,--and just beyond was the new bridge over the Doon,
a short distance below the old one, which is well preserved and
profusely decorated with the initials of many visitors. Along the bank
of "bonny Doon" lies a little garden, on the corner of which is
situated a house where liquor is sold, if I mistake not. It was before
this house that I saw the musician already mentioned. As I came up from
the old "brig o' Doon," I saw and heard a man playing a violin near the
monument. When I went down the road toward the new bridge and looked
over into the garden, I saw a couple of persons executing a cake-walk,
and an old man with one leg off was in the cemetery that surrounds the
ruined church, reciting selections from Burns. Such is the picture I
beheld when I visited this Ayrshire monument, raised in memory of the
sympathetic but unfortunate Scottish poet, whose "spark o' nature's
fire" has touched so many hearts that his birth-place has more visitors
per annum than Shakespeare's has.

On the following day I had a pleasant boat-ride up Loch (Lake) Long,
followed by a merry coach-ride across to the "bonny, bonny banks of Loch
Lomond," which is celebrated in song and story. It is twenty-two miles
in length and from three-quarters of a mile to five miles wide, and is
called the "Queen of Scottish lakes." Ben Lomond, a mountain rising to a
height of more than three thousand feet, stands on the shore, and it is
said that Robert Bruce, the hero of Bannockburn, once hid himself in a
cave in this mountain. A pleasant boat-ride down the lake brought me
back to Glasgow in time to attend a meeting of the brethren in Coplaw
Street that night.

Leaving my true friends who had so kindly entertained me in Glasgow, I
proceeded to Edinburgh, the city where Robert Burns came into
prominence. In the large Waverley Station a stranger, who knew of my
coming through word from Brother Ivie Campbell, of Kirkcaldy, stopped me
and asked: "Is your name Don Carlos Janes?" It was another good friend,
Brother J.W. Murray. He said he told some one he was looking for me, and
was told, in return, that he would not be able to find me. His answer to
this was that he had picked out a man before, and he might pick out
another one; and so he did, without any difficulty. After a little time
spent in Waverley gardens, I ascended the Walter Scott Monument, which
is two hundred feet high. The winding stairway is rather narrow,
especially at the top, and it is not well lighted. As I was coming down
the stairs, I met a lady and gentleman. The little woman was not at all
enthusiastic over the experience she was having, and, without knowing of
my presence, she was wondering what they would do if they were to meet
any one. "Come on up and see," I said, and we passed without any special
difficulty, but she said she didn't believe "two stout ones could" pass.
As she went on up the winding way, she was heard expressing herself in
these words: "Oh, it is a place, isn't it? I don't like it." The
tourist finds many "places", and they are not all desirable. Princess
Street, on which the monument is located, is the prettiest street that I
have ever seen. One side is occupied by business houses and hotels, the
other is a beautiful garden, where one may walk or sit down, surrounded
by green grass and beautiful flowers.

Edinburgh Castle is an old fortification on the summit of a lofty hill
overlooking the city. It is now used as barracks for soldiers, and is
capable of accommodating twelve hundred men. Queen Mary's room is a
small chamber, where her son, James the First of Scotland and the Sixth
of England, was born. I was in the old castle in Glasgow where she spent
the night before the Battle of Langside, and later stood by her tomb in
Westminster Abbey. Her history, a brief sketch of which is given here,
is interesting and pathetic. "Mary Queen of Scots was born in Linlithgow
Palace, 1542; fatherless at seven days old; became Queen December 8th,
1542, and was crowned at Stirling, September 9th, 1543; carried to
France, 1548; married to the Dauphin, 1558; became Queen of France,
1559; a widow, 1560; returned to Scotland, 1561; married Lord Darnley,
1565; her son (and successor), James VI., born at Edinburgh Castle,
1566; Lord Darnley murdered, February, 1567; Mary married to the Earl of
Bothwell, May, 1567, and was compelled to abdicate in favor of her
infant son. She escaped from Lochleven Castle, lost the Battle of
Langside, and fled to England, 1568. She was beheaded February 8th,
1587, at Fotheringay Castle, in the forty-fifth year of her age, almost
nineteen years of which she passed in captivity.

"Puir Mary was born and was cradled in tears,
Grief cam' wi' her birth, and grief grew wi' her years."

In the crown-room are to be seen the regalia of Scotland, consisting of
the crown, scepter, sword of state, a silver rod of office, and other
jewels, all enclosed in a glass case surrounded by iron work. St.
Margaret's Chapel, seventeen feet long and eleven feet wide, stands
within the castle enclosure and is the oldest building in the city. A
very old cannon, called Mons Meg, was brought back to the castle through
the efforts of Walter Scott, and is now on exhibition. I visited the
Hall of Statuary in the National Gallery, the Royal Blind Asylum, passed
St. Giles Cathedral, where John Knox preached, dined with Brother
Murray, and boarded the train for Kirkcaldy, where I as easily found
Brother Campbell at the station as Brother Murray had found me in
Edinburgh.

I had been in correspondence with Brother Campbell for some years, and
our meeting was a pleasure, and my stay at Kirkcaldy was very enjoyable.
We went up to St. Andrews, and visited the ruins of the old Cathedral,
the University, a monument to certain martyrs, and the home of a sister
in Christ. But little of the Cathedral remains to be seen. It was
founded in 1159, and was the most magnificent of Scottish churches. St.
Rule's Tower, one hundred and ten feet high, still stands, and we had a
fine view from the top. The time to leave Kirkcaldy came too soon, but I
moved on toward Wigan, England, to attend the annual meeting of churches
of Christ. Brother Campbell accompanied me as far as Edinburgh, and I
then proceeded to Melrose, where I stopped off and visited Abbotsford,
the home of Sir Walter Scott. It is situated on the River Tweed, a short
distance from Melrose, and was founded in 1811. By the expenditure of a
considerable sum of money it was made to present such an appearance as
to be called "a romance in stone and lime." Part of this large house is
occupied as a dwelling, but some of the rooms are kept open for the
numerous visitors who call from time to time. The young lady who was
guide the day I was at Abbotsford, first showed us Sir Walter's study.
It is a small room, with book shelves from the floor to the ceiling, the
desk on which Scott wrote his novels sitting in the middle of the floor.
A writing-box, made of wood taken from one of the ships of the Spanish
Armada, sits on the desk, and the clothes worn by the great novelist a
short time before his death are kept under glass in a case by the
window, while a cast of his face is to be seen in a small room
adjoining the study. We next passed into the library, which, with the
books in the study, contains about twenty thousand volumes. In the
armory are numerous guns, pistols, swords, and other relics. There is
some fine furniture in one of the rooms, and the walls are covered with
paper printed by hand in China nearly ninety years ago. Perhaps some who
read these lines will recall the sad story of Genivra, who hid herself
in an oaken chest in an attic, and perished there, being imprisoned by
the spring lock. This oaken chest was received at Abbotsford a short
time before Scott's death, and is now on exhibition. Sir Walter, as the
guide repeatedly called him, spent the last years of his life under the
burden of a heavy debt, but instead of making use of the bankrupt law,
he set to work heroically with his pen to clear up the indebtedness. He
wrote rapidly, and his books sold well, but he was one day compelled to
lay down his pen before the task was done. The King of England gave him
a trip to the Mediterranean, for the benefit of his health, but it was
of no avail. Sir Walter returned to his home on the bank of the Tweed,
and died September twenty-first, 1832. In his last illness, this great
author, who had produced so many volumes that were being read then and
are still being read, asked his son-in-law to read to him. The
son-in-law asked what book he should read, to which Sir Walter replied:
"Book? There is but one Book! Read me the Bible." In Melrose I visited
the ruins of the Abbey, and then went on to Wigan.

After the annual meeting, I went to Birmingham and stayed a short while.
From here I made a little journey to the birth-place of Shakespeare, at
Stratford-on-Avon, a small, quiet town, where, to the best of my
recollection, I saw neither street cars nor omnibuses. After being in
several large cities, it was an agreeable change to spend a day in this
quiet place, where the greatest writer in the English tongue spent his
boyhood and the last days of his life on earth. The house where he was
born was first visited. A fee of sixpence (about twelve cents) secures
admission, but another sixpence is required if the library and museum
are visited. The house stands as it was in the poet's early days, with a
few exceptions. Since that time, however, part of it has been used as a
meat market and part as an inn. In 1847, the property was announced for
sale, and it fell into the hands of persons who restored it as nearly as
possible to its original condition.

It has two stories and an attic, with three gables in the roof facing
the street. At the left of the door by which the tourist is admitted, is
a portion of the house where the valuable documents of the corporation
are stored, while to the right are the rooms formerly used as the "Swan
and Maidenhead Inn," now converted into a library and museum. The
windows in the upstairs room where the poet was born are fully occupied
with the autographs of visitors who have scratched their names there. I
was told that the glass is now valuable simply as old glass, and of
course the autographs enhance the value. The names of Scott and Carlyle
are pointed out by the attendant in charge. From a back window one can
look down into the garden, where, as far as possible, all the trees and
flowers mentioned in Shakespeare's works have been planted. For some
years past the average number of visitors to this house has been seven
thousand a year. The poet's grave is in Trinity Church, at Stratford,
beneath a stone slab in the floor bearing these lines:

"Good friend, for Jesus' sake, forbear
To digg the dust enclosed here.
Blest be ye man y spares these stones,
And curst be he ty moves my bones."

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