place, for again I am very tired. The distance
traveled to-day is said to be fifty miles. But when we arrive here the
road and bridge are crowded with sheep and goats being brought in from
the valley for safety in the night. My first sight of the Jordan, which
at this place is clear and sparkling, does not particularly impress me.
I long for rest, and so we do not tarry, but pass directly into the
village lying just at the west end of the bridge.

Oh, the wretchedness of this place! I wonder what kind of entertainment
I can find here. There is little choice as to a place of lodging. The
best and only accommodation that the miserable village affords is what
was formerly used by robbers as a prison-house for their victims, but
which is now used as a kind of store-room. There is but one room, and
its earthen floor is littered over with filth of almost every
description, while dust and cob-webs everywhere abound. This is the
RECEPTION-ROOM for our party of four.

While my dragoman busied himself in getting supper, I sat on a box
making notes of what I had seen and experienced that day. Just then the
place served as KITCHEN and WRITING-ROOM. I wrote rapidly, and as I
wrote the thought that somewhere that day I had crossed the path of the
Master in his Perean ministry thrilled me. I said, "Mr. Barakat, I am
going down to the Jordan for a while after supper." He replied, "All
right, and I'll go with you'." "No," said I, "I want to be alone down
at the bridge." He simply said, "I'll go with you."

Our supper was a light affair, but our host brought a platter of
something that looked like dark beeswax, but which proved to be a
palatable food called "halawa." We ate from the floor of this room,
which then became our DINING-ROOM.

After supper I was ready to go down to the river, not more than a
hundred yards from our lodging-place. When we started, our host stepped
to a corner of the room, picked up a gun, and prepared to go with us. I
told my dragoman to tell him not to go with us. The reply was, "He will
go with us." "Well," I said, "if he must go make him put down that gun;
it will spoil my evening of quiet thought at the sacred river." The
answer was: "Make no further objection. Have you not noticed that
everybody here carries a gun? He knows what he is doing. This is the
most disreputable place along the river. Those Bedouins of the black
tents that we passed over yonder would want no better opportunity than
to find you