Sabbath Eve at Safed
THROUGH a picturesque ravine abounding in wild flowers and bold cliffs, a tortuous path led up to Safed. After about an hour of hard climbing, the road became less steep and, gradually, blooming fields of wheat, oats, sesame and barley began to appear in view. These were followed by patches of plowed ground alternating with groves of olive and almond trees. The birds sang blithely and flitted from bough to bough, but my horse was not to be stimulated by example, for he continued at his jogging pace.
Before entering the city, I passed the Mohammedan cemetery where several Turkish women sat among the turbaned tombstones enjoying the evening air. It being Friday, their Sabbath, they cheered their idle hours by contemplating the abodes of the dead. Mysterious figures they were, pensively reposing among the tombstones; the fanciful feeling which they inspired was further heightened by the veils (yash- mades) which they wore, concealing from view, unfortunately, many a countenance of the Monna Lisa Type.
In the Turkish quarter, which I first entered, I found the streets narrow, the pavement neglected, and the houses, or rather fronts, colored saffron, causes of that delightful indolence of the Osmaulie. Some of the houses were surmounted by green dove-cotes, from which the cooing of the pigeons contributed to the monastic tranquillity of the place. From the latticed windows of fairy-like harems were suspended boxes of lilac, orchids and mignonettes. Near an antiquated tannery was the little Byzantine mosque, entirely unpretentious except for the lone minaret, which attracted attention by its proud air, so absolutely unsuited to its dilapidated condition.
The worshippers were now leaving the mosque, making their way slowly and solennoly into the streets. At the head of the procession, which had been formed outside the gate, marched the Ismam, distinguished by his green Kuffiyeh, silk interwoven abba and extremely dignified gait. One by one they separated. Only a few continued their way to the Jewish portion of the town, whither I followed them.
In the Jewish homes they were diligently occupied in preparing for the Sabbath. In passing one of these cottages, I noticed a young girl drawing water from a well in the yard, while two others, apparently her sisters, were scrubbing a few chairs and a chest of drawers. Meanwhile, the housewife was returning from market with a heavy basket, from which peeped an inquisitive chicken's head, a hunchbacked pumpkin and a turnip of monstrous proportions. She was followed by a little lad.
For about one hour I wandered through the uneven streets of the town and in the weedy alleys of the adjacent corn fields. I examined several ruins, among them those of a fortress built by the Templars during the Crusades. About the middle of the XIIIth Century this stronghold was captured by Baibars, Sultan of Damascus, who, recognizing its commanding position, caused it to be fortified and a large tower added, thus making it one of the most formidable castles in northern Palestine.
Safed is an old town. It dates back to the IInd Century. It derives its imporance from being one of the refuges of Jewish learning. Here have many great intel- lects appeared who, by devotion to ethics, philosophy, or to the mysteries of the Kabbala, sought to serve a noble purpose. Impelled by love of country such brilliant scholars as Jacob Berab, Isaac Loria, Solo-