of the Shechemites, with the village of "Shalim" on a small mound, the Shalim passed by the patriarch on his route from the banks of the Jordan, and the distant mountains on the other side of that river.

In the afternoon we also ascended Mount Ebal, but could discover no trace of bygone generations, though the view, like that from Gerizim, is splendid and extensive.

Pursuing our way next morning along the beautiful valley of Nabulus, in about an hour, the bold hill of Samaria rose before us, standing isolated in the midst of a basin of mountains, all cultivated to their summits, a position alike strong and beautiful. Formerly, as there is indeed monumental evidence to prove, the cultivated terraces into which the hill-side is fashioned, were

adorned with the buildings of the city. The small village of Sebustieh now occupies a portion of the site, and at the eastern extremity is the church built by Justinian over the reputed tomb of John the Baptist. This we were not permitted to enter; but on riding over the hill, came upon the remains of a splendid colonnade, which had once been evidently of great extent, and

which was terminated to the westward by the foundations of a gateway.

This is no doubt a relic of some magnificent edifice with which Herod adorned the city. Lower down the mountain side we found another group of columns, which seemed as though they had formed a part of some forum or public market-place. These are the only apparent remains of the splendid capital where the kings of Israel once held their court.

There is no mention of our Saviour's personally visiting Samaria at that time in the very zenith of its glory; having been rebuilt by Herod the Great, with his customary display of magnificence, after it had been bestowed on him by Augustus, in honour of whom it received the name of Sebaste, being the Greek translation of his name. The parts about Phenice and Samaria were visited by Philip after the dispersion of the Apostles; and here a church was gradually formed, and an episcopal see established, which fell only with the triumph of Mahommedanism.

The descent from the crest of the hill of Samaria is extremely rapid, and the city, strongly fortified as it was by Herod, would seem to have been almost impregnable; yet no part of its walls are standing, and how or when they were levelled with the dust, like all the rest of the city, there are no accounts to show.

Hence our way led over cultivated hills and valleys of no remark; the isolated hill fortress of Sanur being the only conspicuous object, on the way to the edge of the great plain of Esdraelon. In traversing Palestine, even in its present state of decay, the mind is forcibly struck by the reflection that it contains much more arable land than is usually supposed, and that the evident fruitfulness of the whole region, when cultivated as it is in terraces, imparts to it a capacity of sustaining an immense population.

The evening view of the great plain as we came down upon it at the village of Jenin, was enchanting. True, its level surface was almost bare of wood, but it was covered with richly

variegated crops, which caught the slanting rays of the setting sun; while the range of Gilboa, dark, dim, and gloomy, and the more distant mountains towards Nazareth, assumed a fugitive gorgeousness of effect and colouring. The white monuments and flat-roofed buildings of Jenin were below, intermingled with graceful palms. Immense heaps of corn lay in the open air, about the threshing-floors; and flocks and herds were slowly making their way towards their nightly enclosures.

The traveller in Palestine should always make some sacrifice to carry a tent, as it renders him independent of the filthy. dwellings of the natives, generally swarming with fleas, and all sorts of vermin. It is almost humiliating to recal one's precautions and contrivances to obtain a comfortable night's rest. We had been horribly tattooed at Nabulus, and some of our persecutors having insinuated themselves into the clothes and baggage, a good half-hour was spent in thoroughly beating and cleansing them. The place appointed for our quarters, a raised platform of plaster outside a cottage, was then washed and scrubbed, together with the neighbouring walls: the swarming mats and suspicious cushions of the natives kicked aside before venturing to lay down the carpet and mattress which served as a nightly couch. It was a long and laborious operation, but happily crowned with entire success, and we got on horse-back early next morning with a feeling of unaccustomed exhilaration and vigour.

If the plain of Esdraelon looked beautiful the evening before, it was no less so in the bright light of morning; and there was besides an additional luxury-that of being able to gallop at will over the open ground, after being confined to the walking pace at which the ruggedness of the path generally compels one to travel. Before noon, following the track of Robinson, we reached Zerin, the site of Jezreel, recalling vividly the story of Naboth's vineyard, and the death of Jezebel; and looking from its crested height down the long valley extending to the Jordan,

we could distinguish the site of Beisan, the Bethshan upon which the bodies of the fallen Israelites were displayed, after the disastrous battle in which Saul and Jonathan lost their lives, and which called forth the beautiful verses of David,-" Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings, for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil." And in looking up to the gloomy mountain which towers behind Jezreel, one might almost fancy that its dark funereal-looking hollows still sympathise with the lament of the poet. At the fountain below Jezreel, they encamped before advancing to the fatal encounter.

The whole scene around was a fresh reading of the historical chapters of the Old Testament, under the light of local illustration. Upon the solitary-looking mountains opposite was Megiddo; in the plain below was fought the battle between Pharaoh Necho, King of Egypt, and the good King Josiah, in which the latter was slain. But dark and blood-stained in general are the annals of Old Testament history; and our business is with the sites and scenes of New Testament narrative.

After a short rest in the village of Zerin, we set off at a gallop, and scarcely drew bridle till we reached that of Solam, according to Robinson, the Shunem of the tribe of Issachar, where the Philistines halted before the battle on Mount Gilboa. A little beyond, we opened a second branch of the immense plain, and the rounded cone of Mount Tabor suddenly came in sight, standing up with a peculiar aspect of solitude in the midst. of the corn-covered expanse. On the northern side of the mountain above Shunem, on a little acclivity above the plain, was a cluster of white houses, which, on inquiry, I found to be called Nein, the village where our Saviour restored the widow's son to life. It lies but little out of the road, yet few travellers ever deviate so far. If any place, however, could tempt a

traveller from the beaten track, it is this; and we turned our horses into the narrow bridle-path leading through the rustling corn-fields up to the gentle acclivity on which the village stands.

We found, as we expected, nothing of the slightest consequence. Nain resembles any other of the humbler villages of Palestine-a few flat-roofed houses of white cement, before the doors of which lies, up-heaped, the corn gathered in from the exuberant plain around. A few peasants, little accustomed to the sight of strangers, gazed on our cavalcade with surprise. Women peeped out of the hovels, and a company of brighteyed children followed our movements with eager curiosity, starting back half in play and half in fright when we happened to turn round and look at them. There was nothing in the world beside. The village is now what we have every reason to suppose it was in the time of our Saviour-a small place, where every joy and every sorrow that befals a member of the little community is sympathised with by all the others. It was easy to figure the whole of the villagers following, with genuine sorrow, the poor bereaved widow to the grave of her only son, when they encountered the Lord of life and glory as he ascended on foot with his disciples to the obscure hamlet from the neighbouring corn-fields-to picture, in short, the whole