the chapters read were Num. xxiii. and Heb.
xiii. The text for the sermon was Heb. xiii. 8, "Jesus Christ, the same
yesterday, to-day, and for ever," and the hymn was sung to a sweet
plaintive air of American origin.

Afterwards, that is after sunset, we spent some hours with the pastor's
family, who all understood English well. Mr Wartabed played the flute to
the hymn-singing, and his sister's voice was clear as a flageolet. The
evening was one of comfort and refreshment on both sides; it was one of a
Sabbath, "a delight, the holy of the Lord, honourable," (Isa. lviii. 13.)

The poor Protestants have not always been in such satisfactory
circumstances. Their principal man had narratives to relate of chains
and imprisonment endured in past times from the present Ameer, whose
policy was now in their favour.

Next morning we left Hhasbeya, and I have not been there since. Little
could it be foreseen that in five years afterwards one indiscriminate
butchery would be made of the Ameer and his son, notwithstanding their
high descent of family and profession of Islam, together with all the
Christians of whatever sect in the town, driven like sheep within the
walls of his palace--a deed of treachery unexampled even in that period
of bloody Turkish treachery. Since then my lady companions are both in
their graves, the one at Jerusalem, the other at Bayroot, let me rather
say in "a better country," while I am left alone to narrate this in the
distant security of England.

On our way towards Banias we met a party of Druses returning from a small
lake beyond Hhooleh, carrying leeches in earthen jars and cotton bags
upon asses, they themselves walking. A green hill on our right was said
to be frequented by wild boars--all the rest of our scenery was bare and
stony.

A weli was a conspicuous object at some distance to the south, and near
to the Lake Hhooleh, which the Moslems name after "Judah the son of
Jacob." One of the Hhasbeya Protestants, who was with us, quoted in his
native Arabic "The sceptre shall not depart from Judah," etc.

At Tell el Kadi we reposed beneath the great tree near the gush of its
branch of the Jordan, the same tree (evergreen oak) as afforded us
shelter in 1849. Both this spring of the river and that of Banias are
far more striking objects than the humble source of the Hhasbani, into
which stream they run as affluents, making up the Jordan.

It was a beautiful evening of mellow sunlight, an