We ascended to Mount Carmel. The path led through a grove of carob trees,
from which the beans, known in Germany as St. John's bread, are produced.
After this we came into an olive grove at the foot of the mountain, from
which long fields of wheat, giving forth a ripe summer smell, flowed down
to the shore of the bay. The olive trees were of immense size, and I can
well believe, as Fra Carlo informed us, that they were probably planted by
the Roman colonists, established there by Titus. The gnarled, veteran
boles still send forth vigorous and blossoming boughs. There were all
manner of lovely lights and shades chequered over the turf and the winding
path we rode. At last we reached the foot of an ascent, steeper than the
Ladder of Tyre. As our horses slowly climbed to the Convent of St. Elijah,
whence we already saw the French flag floating over the shoulder of the
mountain, the view opened grandly to the north and east, revealing the bay
and plain of Acre, and the coast as far as Ras Nakhura, from which we
first saw Mount Carmel the day previous. The two views are very similar in
character, one being the obverse of the other. We reached the
Convent--Dayr Mar Elias, as the Arabs call it--at noon, just in time to
partake of a bountiful dinner, to which the monks had treated themselves.
Fra Carlo, the good Franciscan who receives strangers, showed us the
building, and the Grotto of Elijah, which is under the altar of the
Convent Church, a small but very handsome structure of Italian marble. The
sanctity of the Grotto depends on tradition entirely, as there is no
mention in the Bible of Elijah having resided on Carmel, though it was
from this mountain that he saw the cloud, "like a man's hand," rising from
the sea. The Convent, which is quite new--not yet completed, in fact--is a
large, massive building, and has the aspect of a fortress.

As we were to sleep at Tantura, five hours distant, we were obliged to
make a short visit, in spite of the invitation of the hospitable Fra Carlo