icked off our
baggy trowsers, and speedily releasing ourselves from the barbarous
restraints of dress, dipped into the tepid sea and floated lazily out
until we could feel the exquisite coldness of the living springs which
sent up their jets from the bottom. I was lying on my back, moving my fins
just sufficiently to keep afloat, and gazing dreamily through half-closed
eyes on the forlorn palms of Tiberias, when a shrill voice hailed me with:
"O Howadji, get out of our way!" There, at the old stone gateway below our
tent, stood two Galilean damsels, with heavy earthen jars upon their
heads. "Go away yourselves, O maidens!" I answered, "if you want us to
come out of the water." "But we must fill our pitchers," one of them
replied. "Then fill them at once, and be not afraid; or leave them, and we
will fill them for you." Thereupon they put the pitchers down, but
remained watching us very complacently while we sank the vessels to the
bottom of the lake, and let them fill from the colder and purer tide of
the springs. In bringing them back through the water to the gate, the one
I propelled before me happened to strike against a stone, and its fair
owner, on receiving it, immediately pointed to a crack in the side, which
she declared I had made, and went off lamenting. After we had resumed our
garments, and were enjoying the pipe of indolence and the coffee of
contentment, she returned and made such an outcry, that I was fain to
purchase peace by the price of a new pitcher. I passed the first hours
of-the night in looking out of my tent-door, as I lay, on the stars
sparkling in the bosom of Galilee, like the sheen of Assyrian spears, and
the glare of the great fires kindled on the opposite shore.

The next day, we travelled northward along the lake, passing through
continuous thickets of oleander, fragrant with its heavy pink blossoms.
The thistles were more abundant and beautiful than ever. I noticed, in
particular, one with a superb globular flower of a bright blue color,
which would make a choice ornament for our gardens at home. At the
north-western head of the lake, the mountains fall back and leave a large
tract of the richest meadow-land, which narrows away into a deep dell,
overhung by high mountain headlands, faced with naked cliffs of red rock.
The features of the landscape are magnificent. Up the dell, I saw plainly
the Mount of Beatitude, beyond which lies the village of Cana of Galilee.
In coming up the meadow, w