ely then as now; and as pilgrims increased to venerate,
objects increased to be venerated. There is a good story told by the
Arabs--it was given by Dr. Samuel Jessup in one of his contributions to
"Picturesque Palestine" some years ago--and it is an apt illustration of
this supply and demand principle.

[Illustration: "RAN AWAY WITH HIS MASTER'S DONKEY."]

There was a certain Sheik-Mohammed who, once upon a time, was the keeper
of a "wely" or shrine, supposed by the faithful to be the tomb of an
eminent Saint, and so largely frequented by them that the Sheik grew
rich from their costly offerings. His servant Ali, however, receiving
but a small share of the profits, ran away to the south of the Jordan,
taking with him his master's donkey. The animal died on the way, and
Ali, having covered his body with a heap of stones, sat down in despair.
A passer-by enquired the cause of his sorrow, and Ali replied that he
had just found the tomb of an eminent Saint; the man kissed the stones,
gave Ali a present, and passed on his way.

The news of the holy shrine spread throughout the land, and pilgrims
thronged to visit it: Ali became rich, built a fine "Kubbeh" (Dome), and
was envied by all the Sheiks.

Mohammed, hearing of the new shrine, and finding his own eclipsed by it,
made a pilgrimage to it himself, in hopes of finding out the source of
its great repute. Finding Ali in charge, he asked, in a whisper, if he
would tell him the name of the Saint whose tomb he kept charge of. "I
will," replied Ali, "on condition that you tell me the name of your
Saint." Mohammed consented, and Ali then whispered, "God alone is great!
This is the tomb of the donkey I stole from you."

"Mashallah!" cried Mohammed, "and my 'wely' is the tomb of that
donkey's father!" Methinks Palestine has not a monopoly of the
long-eared and long-suffering race, either living or dead!

But we have changed all that; as we have a good many other things.
Saints and their shrines are out of fashion. "It is an age of seeing,
not believing," we say complacently; and we laugh with superior wisdom
at the follies of our forefathers, and the relics they went so far to
adore--relics which, like the fabled frog, by trying to swell themselves
to greater and still greater dimensions, ended in growing a little too
extensive for their ultimate good. Saints, like sinners, can only have
two legs apiece, we all know; but the saints of our ancestors, if their
relics spoke tru