squalid
villages and more squalid inhabitants, of bridgeless streams that had to
be forded, of Arab camps and Bedouin chiefs, and of towns, mountains,
plains, and wells, the names of which were familiar to the student of
the Bible. They showed to their friends albums in which they had pressed
the flowers gathered in villages where the Savior once strayed, or
culled in fields through which He probably had trod. Some who had taken
a carriage ride to the Dead Sea and the River Jordan described the
loneliness of the road and the armed Bedouin protectors who accompanied
them, the dilapidated condition of Jericho, the desolate shores and
bitter salty taste of the Sea, the muddy banks of the River Jordan and a
row on the rapid stream. Their souvenirs were vials filled with salt
water from the Sea, and bottles of the fresh, but not very clear water
from Jordan's stream.

[Illustration: ON THE BANK OF THE RIVER JORDAN.]

"The only place where we were treated with disrespect during our trip
was in Hebron," said one of a group around a table in the library.
"There the natives were an ill-tempered set. They scowled as if
resentful of our presence, and when we were driving away some hoodlums
of the town threw chunks of mud and stone after our carriage."

"That reminds me," said another, "of a picture I want to show you. On
the landing at Esneh up the Nile we thought that our clothes would be
torn to pieces by the natives, but not through ill-will. The donkey boys
were so eager to secure our custom that a struggle ensued in which
donkey boys, donkeys, and tourists were inextricably mixed until the
dragoman used his whip. My brother took a snap-shot of the scene just as
Achmet raised his whip."

Some of the tourists had stayed ten days in Jerusalem, some twelve days
in Cairo, others had been at Philae and the Cataract of the Nile. Each
one was enthusiastic over his trip and appeared to be satisfied with the
way in which the eighteen days in Palestine and Egypt had been spent.

Monday dawned cloudy with some wind and rain, and although the weather
was not stormy, the boat had that uneasy motion which had been felt once
before on the Mediterranean. Many of the tourists, believing prevention
better than cure, remained in their staterooms, or, snugly wrapped,
reclined in their steamer chairs on deck and had luncheon served to them
there, fewer than half the seats at the dining table being occupied.

On Tuesday, however, the sea was