Seen in the old-time cider-mill or cane-mill; slipped
onto this beam by means of a large hole in its center was a large
stone shaped like a grind-stone; this rock, pushed well up to the
post, rested in the bowl of the other rock. When the natives
pushed or pulled the beam around in tread-mill fashion the
circular stone turned on the beam, and at the same time moved
round and round in the hollow of the other rock. Thus the olives
placed in the bowl-shaped rock were thoroughly crushed and the oil
was caught in vessels.
Then I watch the shepherds leading their large flocks of sheep and
goats in from the mountain pastures to their folds for the night.
All day these faithful guardians have been with their flocks
seeking good pasture and water for them, - no easy task in the fall
of the year near the end of the dry season. They have guarded the
sheep from the danger of beast, or precipice, or pit; have
released those caught in the under-brush; have ministered to the
needs of the sick; and now as night approaches they come leading -
not driving - their flocks in quiet movement from out the mountain-
paths to the sheltering fold in the village for the night, again
to lead them forth on to-morrow, and to do likewise day after day.
To see the tender solicitude of the Oriental shepherd for his
sheep adds much to one's appreciation of the beauty and fitness of
the teaching of the Master in his parable of the Good Shepherd.
But it is near the sunset hour of my only evening in these sacred
mountains. I seek a vantage-ground and watch the King of Day sink
slowly down to his couch of rest behind the western mountains and
the farther sea. Oh, how beautiful! The sky is ablaze with a glory
indescribable by mortal tongue. All space seems vocal with praise
to the God of love and beauty.
In the strange and peaceful quiet of that evening I felt the
presence of a mysterious, subtle influence stirring within me. In
the shower of gold flung out as a good-night to me, and as the
star of evening smiled down upon me in the purpling twilight and
began calling her myriads of companions to their sentry-posts to
keep watch over me through the hours of the night in that strange
land, I felt, I think, the spirit of the poetry,
"Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me," etc.,
in its fullness. Indeed, the air seemed vibrant with a living
personality, which, without undue stretching of the imagination, I
recognized as the SPIRIT OF HISTORY come to tell me the wonderful
story of those wonderful mountains.
