Daisy In The Field

I would not read the papers myself, all this time. In America

I had studied them, and in Switzerland and in Florence I had

devoured them. Here in the Holy Land, I had made an agreement

with myself to be happy; to leave the care of things which I

could not manage, and not to concern myself with the

fluctuations on the face of affairs which I could not trace

out to their consequences, do what I would. So. I heard the

principal points of news from papa's talk and Mr. Dinwiddie's;

I let the papers alone. Only with one exception. I could not

help it. I could not withhold myself from looking at the lists

of wounded and killed. I looked at nothing more; but the

thought that one name might be there would have incessantly

haunted me, if I had not made sure that it was not there. I

dreaded every arrival from the steamers of a new mail budget.

From Mr. Thorold I got no letter. Nor from Miss Cardigan. From

Mrs. Sandford one; which told me nothing I wanted to know. To

mamma papa had writ- ten, describing to her the pleasure we

were enjoying and the benefit his health was deriving from our

journey, and asking her to join us at Beyrout and spend the

summer on Lebanon.

Towards Beyrout we now journeyed gently on; stopping and

lingering by the way as our custom was. At Nablous, at

Nazareth, at Tiberias, at Safed, at Banias; then across the

country to Sidon, down to Khaiffa and Carmel; finally we went

up to Beyrout. Papa enjoyed every bit of the way; to me it was

a journey scarcely of this earth, the happiness of it was so

great. Mr. Dinwiddie everywhere our kind and skilful guide,

counsellor, helper; knowing all the ground, and teaching us to

use our time to the very best advantage. He made papa more at

ease about me, and me about papa.

At Beyrout, for the first time since we left Jerusalem, we

found ourselves again in a hotel. Mr. Dinwiddie went to find

our despatches that were awaiting us. Papa lay down on the

cushions of a divan. I sat at the window, wondering at what I

saw. I wonder now at the remembrance.

It was afternoon, and the shades and colours on the mountains

and the sea were a labyrinth of delight. Yes, the eye and the

mind lost themselves again and again, to start back again to

the consciousness of an enchanted existence. The mountains

rising from the coast were in full view of my window, shaded

with all sorts of green from the different woods and

cultivation which clothed their sides. The eye followed their

growing heights and ridges, till it rested on the snow summit

of Sunnin; then swept round the range to the southward; but

ever came back again to the lofty, reposeful majesty of that

white mountain top in the blue ether. Little streams I could

see dashing down the rocks; a white thread amongst the green;

castles or buildings of some stately sort were upon every

crag; I found afterwards they were monasteries. The sea waves

breaking on the rocks of the shore gave other touches of

white, and the sea was taking a deep hue, and the town

stretching back from it looked gay and bright, with pretty

houses and palm trees and palaces, and, bright-coloured

dresses flitting here and there in the streets; and white

sails were on the sea. I had never seen, I have never seen,

anything more lovely than Beyrout. I had come to the city

rather anxious; for we expected there to meet a great budget

of news, which I always dreaded; wandering about from place to

place, we had been blissfully separated for some time from all

disturbing intelligence. Now we must meet it, perhaps; but the

glory of the beauty before me wrapped my heart round as with

an unearthly shield. Peace, peace, and good will, - it spoke,

from Him who made the beauty and owned the glory; softly it

reminded me that my Father in heaven could not fail in love

nor in resources. I leaned my head against the frame of the

open window, and rested and was glad.