herds, and pastures, could not have been situated near the capital of Pharaoh, or near the seats of his power. It was evidently at a distance, even on the borders of Egypt. The patriarch Jacob sent one of his sons to direct Joseph to meet him there, and the latter made ready his chariot for the journey; on his return from the interview he said to Pharaoh, "My father, and my brethren, and all that they have, are in the land of Goshen." In their subsequent trials and sufferings in the wilderness, their appeal to the comforts and flesh-pots of Egypt could not allude to the residence on the arid shores of the Nile, and the burning heat and toil, but to the pastoral and plentiful life in Goshen. In what part of the country could this domain have been situated ?-somewhat apart evenfrom the rest of the people, for " every shepherd was an abomination to the Egyptians." It lay, most probably, at the very entrance into Egypt from Canaan, on the verge of the desert, as the family of Israel halted in Goshen ere he advanced to the court of the king. It was evidently the will of heaven to prove the Israelites amidst the long delays and privations of the deserts of Sinai, as well as to exhibit its care and mercy, in the succession of miracles of so many years; otherwise, how far more easy and rapid would have been the passage to the land of Canaan by the route pursued by the patriarch and his sons, and afterwards by Joseph and the courtiers of Pharaoh. In

this direction, there were few terrors by the way; "the fearful land of drought, and not inhabited," was little formidable or prolonged. Did no tradition exist of the passage formerly chosen-part of which was along the sea-shore? When Israel was buried "in his own burial-place in Hebron, all his people went up also, even beyond the Jordan, with chariots and horsemen," and penetrated into the heart of Canaan, by a sure and easy progress; while his posterity wandered forty years without ever attaining this object, at the same time that a straight and continued advance of a few weeks would have ended their suspense. While at Mount Sinai, we enquired of the superior of the convent how many days would suffice to arrive at Jerusalem; he replied, that it could be easily travelled on camels in twelve days.

Such was the just

and mysterious will of God, to prove and to punish his chosen people as by an ordeal of fire; for what could be more exquisitely bitter and agonizing than the conviction that the beautiful land of all their hope and desire was, during the term of a whole life, within a few days' journey, and yet never, never must they behold it, or enter it? The direct distance from Mount Sinai to the Red Sea is about four days' journey; so that, allowing for a slow and lingering progress, on account of the women and children, the pilgrimage might have been accomplished in two months. But the strength and wisdom of the host

were taken away, and every obstacle and peril exaggerated a thousand-fold by their own troubled fancies.

Their first progress of three days, to the Waters of Marah, may give an idea of the speed with which so great a multitude advanced; the caravan distance is fifteen hours, a very long day's journey. The complaint of the "bitter waters" was the more natural from a people so long accustomed to the sweet water of the Nile; even to this day, when the Egyptians quit the shores of their beloved river, and are compelled to drink of the wells of Arabia, they never fail to regret the excellent water they have left behind. The Valley of Hirondel, beneath the shelter of whose stunted palms we were glad to rest some hours, was most probably the scene of the second encampment of the Israelites, on the white and arid shores of the Red Sea; a sad and dreary restingplace, save that springs and trees were there. wilderness that intervenes between the sea and Sinai is a succession of withered and mountainous country, deep valleys, with acacia, tamarisk, and date trees, small sandy plains, and calcareous rocks and sandstone. The whole progress is a gentle and almost imperceptible ascent. Here and there are noble mountains; and the spectacle and the hour are most animating when the red light first breaks on their summits, and the delicious breeze of early morn comes over the desert. Often do the Arabs, when there

The

is no shelter of trees in the day's journey, regulate their progress so as to arrive at noon where there is some high and impending precipice, that they may rest and slumber awhile beneath; thus beautifully fulfilling the encomium of Scripture on "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.”

No doubt the Israelites, in their painful progress, often availed themselves of the same welcome refuge. On entering the long and narrow valleys of the chain of Sinai, the mountains begin to be composed of granite and porphyry. In many of these places the Arabs are employed, during part of the year, in collecting brushwood, which they burn into charcoal, and carry to Egypt to sell. Whole caravans are sometimes met, with no other burden save this charcoal, of which vast quantities are made. Is it not more than probable that the people of Israel procured fuel in the same way, for the many sacrifices, as well as to dress their few meals? It was impossible to obtain wood for so great a host, on account of the scarcity of trees. A few of the vales are covered with pasturage, where numerous flocks might graze for a time. Four or five days' journey east from the Sacred Mountain is the Gulf of Akaba, in whose region the people encamped and wandered a long time. Here lay Ezion-geber, and some other scenes of the pilgrimage. The shores also of the Gulf of Akaba, which is a branch of the Red Sea, are more fruitful

and sheltered than those of the latter, with excellent water as well as pasturage, woods of date and fruit trees, little fertile vales opening on the sea, which here abounds in fish. No allusion has ever been made to an article of sustenance of which, there can be no doubt, the Israelites availed themselves-the fruit of the date tree. Groves of this tree, a species of the palm, were numerous in some parts of their journeyings, and offered a grateful nourishment; even to this day, the date is like the manna to the people of the land.

Near the termination of the gulf stands the gloomy Castle of Akaba, in the midst of a plain that is covered with pasturage. Encompassed by groves of palm, and massive walls, it looks like the hold of a feudal chieftain. A small garrison is kept here; for the caravan gladly halts beneath the walls to drink of the water of the wells. The gates are opened, and the weary people and their beasts of burden admitted into the courts. The Castle of Akaba-in the very bosom of hallowed and memorable scenes, amidst the shadow of trees and a rich plain, the sea in front, and mountains on each side-is a noble retreat for an inquiring and enterprising pilgrim, who will have no need to complain of hardship in the castle, and every day he might vary his excursions, all full of the deepest interest. The little garrison consists of Turks from Cairo, whose civility, and even kindness, a recompense can easily propitiate.