Haifa; or, Life in modern PalestineOliphant, Laurence
History
Haifa; or, Life in modern Palestine
Oliphant, Laurence
Palestine -- Description and travel
Turning sharply to the right before reaching Acre, and passing beneath
the mound upon which Napoleon planted his batteries in 1799, we enter a
grove of date-trees by a road bordered with high cactus hedges, and
finally reach a causeway which traverses a small lake formed by the
waters of the Belus, and which, crossing one arm of the river, lands us
upon an island which it encircles. This island, which is about two
hundred yards long by scarcely a hundred wide, is all laid out in
flower-beds and planted with ornamental shrubs and with fruit-trees.
Coming upon it suddenly it is like a scene in fairy land. In the centre
is a plashing fountain from which the water is conveyed to all parts of
the garden. The flower-beds are all bordered with neat edges of
stone-work, and are sunk below the irrigating channels. Over a marble
bed the waters from the fountain come rippling down in a broad stream to
a bower of bliss, where two immense and venerable mulberry-trees cast an
impenetrable shade over a platform with seats along the entire length of
one side, protected by a balustrade projecting over the waters of the
Belus, which here runs in a clear stream, fourteen or fifteen feet wide
and two or three deep, over a pebbly bottom, where fish of considerable
size, and evidently preserved, are darting fearlessly about, or coming
up to the steps to be fed. The stream is fringed with weeping willows,
and the spot, with its wealth of water, its thick shade, and air
fragrant with jasmine and orange blossoms, forms an ideal retreat from
the heats of summer. The sights and sounds are all suggestive of languor
and _dolce far niente_, of that peculiar condition known to Orientals as
_kief_, when the senses are lulled by the sounds of murmuring water, the
odours of fragrant plants, the flickering shadows of foliage, or the
gorgeous tints of flowers and the fumes of the narghileh.
The gardener, a sedate Persian in a tall cap, who kept the place in
scrupulous order, gave us a dignified welcome. His master, he said,
would not come till the afternoon, and if we disappeared before his
arrival we were welcome to spread our luncheon on his table under the
mulberry-trees, and sit round it on his chairs; nay, further, he even
extended his hospitality to providing us with hot water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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