ok, in this way trying to stem the tide of giggles that this
request provoked. It was no use; the character of the sacred function
was forever lost through my thoughtless way of asking for the lamp.

Slowly and alone, I "hiked" back to the hotel, feeling that as a
receptionee I had "put my foot in it," and must in future be regarded as
a social back number.

JERICHO

_The Jordan and the Dead Sea_

After visiting all the places in Jerusalem that were of interest to us,
we set out in carriages for a long and tiresome drive to Jericho and its
environs. We passed Gethsemane and went over the Mount of Olives to
Bethany. The Mount of Olives is four thousand feet above sea level, and
consequently has a perfect climate even in hot weather. From it we saw
the plain of the Jordan and the mountains of Moab in the distance--truly
a magnificent panorama. After awhile we reached the "Good Samaritan" Inn
and had some rest and refreshments there. An old Bedouin, tall, spare,
and with a fine, military bearing, had a lot of old flint-lock guns for
sale at the inn, but his historical knowledge and dates were decidedly
mixed. He didn't care anything about facts or the truth if he could only
sell a gun to a credulous customer. To give verisimilitude to his
statements, he said he had fought at Waterloo on the English side and had
killed Napoleon with one of these guns--he did not know which, but the
buyer could have his choice. As this was the grandest and most daring
lie I had ever heard, I gave him an American quarter, for which he was
very grateful, as he needed the money.

[Illustration: THE DEAD SEA WITH THE LONE FISHERMAN IN FRONT. HE HAS
JUST HEARD THAT THE FISH ARE NOT BITING AND IS SOMEWHAT DEPRESSED IN
CONSEQUENCE]

We went down through wild mountain gorges to the plain below. In former
times the Bedouins who infest these mountains robbed the visitors and
were a menace to travel, so it became the custom to "settle" with the
chiefs for "protection" (from themselves) before starting. The
management paid up for us and we were duly protected. In none of Gilbert
and Sullivan's comic operas can any incident be found that is more
delicious in its comicality and topsy-turvyism than was our experience
with these bandit chiefs. They were mounted on small, nimble horses
which had all the sure-footedness and agility of the chamois, and sprang
from rock to rock with surprising certainty. The rider chief was armed
to the