that we have to wind
through a passage not more than ten feet wide. The air is parched as in
an oven. Our horses scramble wearily up the stony gallery and the rough
stairways. One of our company faints under the fervent heat, and falls
from his horse. But fortunately no bones are broken; a half-hour's rest
in the shadow of a great rock revives him and we ride on.

The wonderful flowers are blooming wherever they can find a foothold
among the stones. Now and then we cross the mouth of some little lonely
side-valley, full of mignonette and cyclamens and tall spires of pink
hollyhock. Under the huge, dark sides of Eagle's Crag--bare and rugged
as Ben Nevis--we pass into the fruitful plain of Makhna, where the
silken grainfields rustle far and wide, and the rich olive-orchards on
the hill-slopes offer us a shelter for our midday meal and siesta. Mount
Ebal and Mount Gerizim now rise before us in their naked bulk; and, as
we mount toward the valley which lies between them, we stay for a while
to rest at Jacob's Well.

There is a mystery about this ancient cistern on the side of the
mountain. Why was it dug here, a hundred feet deep, although there are
springs and streams of living water flowing down the valley, close at
hand? Whence came the tradition of the Samaritans that Jacob gave them
this well, although the Old Testament says nothing about it? Why did the
Samaritan woman, in Jesus' time, come hither to draw water when there
was a brook, not fifty yards away, which she must cross to get to the
well?

Who can tell? Certainly there must have been some use and reason for
such a well, else the men of long ago would never have toiled to make
it. Perhaps the people of Sychar had some superstition about its water
which made them prefer it. Or perhaps the stream was owned and used for
other purposes, while the water of the well was free.

It makes no difference whether a solution of the problem is ever found.
Its very existence adds to the touch of truth in the narrative of St.
John's Gospel. Certainly this well was here in Jesus' day, close beside
the road which He would be most likely to take in going from Jerusalem
to Galilee. Here He sat, alone and weary, while the disciples went on to
the village to buy food. And here, while He waited and thirsted, He
spoke to an unknown, unfriendly, unhappy woman the words which have been
a spring of living water to the weary and fevered heart of the world:
"God is a spirit, and they