e 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. Enraptured I listened.

SAID THE SPIRIT: "Long before Gad was attracted by these heights and
valleys, tribes of people lived here in their simplicity, yet in sin.
The land seemed not different from other lands. Here were towering
wooded mountain, rocky ravine, and strong-flowing fountain; here the
beast prowled among the rocks, the bird nested in the trees, and the
sweet-scented flowers graced all the landscape. The storms beat upon
the mountains and the waters rushed in madness to the valley in the
rainy season, and the sun scorched the vegetation and dried up the
fountains in the dry season. Thus in monotony centuries passed.

"But one day the God of