meal on a housetop, which
a friend of the dragoman put at our disposal, and rode out in the
afternoon to the Oak of Abraham on the hill of Mamre. The tree is an
immense, battered veteran, with a trunk ten feet in diameter, and
wide-flung, knotted arms which still bear a few leaves and acorns. It
has been inclosed with a railing, patched up with masonry, partially
protected by a roof. The Russian monks who live near by have given it
pious care, yet its inevitable end is surely near.

The death of a great sheltering tree has a kind of dumb pathos. It seems
like the passing away of something beneficent and helpless, something
that was able to shield others but not itself.

On this hill, under the oaks of Mamre, Abraham's tents were pitched many
a year, and here he entertained the three angels unawares, and Sarah
made pancakes for them, and listened behind the tent-flap while they
were talking with her husband, and laughed at what they said. This may
not be the very tree that flung its shadow over the tent, but no doubt
it is a son or a grandson of that tree, and the acorns that still fall
from it may be the seeds of other oaks to shelter future generations of
pilgrims; and so throughout the world, the ancient covenant of
friendship is unbroken, and man remains a grateful lover of the big,
kind trees.

We got home to our camp in the green meadow of the springs late in the
afternoon, and on the third day we rode back to Jerusalem, and pitched
the tents in a new place, on a hill opposite the Jaffa Gate, with a
splendid view of the Valley of Hinnom, the Tower of David, and the
western wall of the city.

_A PSALM OF FRIENDLY TREES_

_I will sing of the bounty of the big trees,
They are the green tents of the Almighty,
He hath set them up for comfort and for shelter._

_Their cords hath he knotted in the earth,
He hath driven their stakes securely,
Their roots take hold of the rocks like iron._

_He sendeth into their bodies the sap of life,
They lift themselves lightly towards the heavens.
They rejoice in the broadening of their branches._

_Their leaves drink in the sunlight and the air,
They talk softly together when the breeze bloweth,
Their shadow in the noonday is full of coolness._

_The tall palm-trees of the plain are rich in fruit,
While the fruit ripeneth the flower unfoldeth,
The beauty of their crown is renewed on high forever._

_The cedars of Lebanon are fed by the snow,
Afar on the mountain the