e sarcophagus said to be the tomb of Samuel. Then we
climbed the minaret and lingered on the tiny railed balcony, feeding on
the view.

The peak on which we stood was isolated by deep ravines from the other
hills of desolate gray and scanty green. Beyond the western range lay
the Valley of Aijalon, and beyond that the rich Plain of Sharon with
iridescent hues of green and blue and silver, and beyond that the yellow
line of the sand-dunes broken by the white spot of Jaffa, and beyond
that the azure breadth of the Mediterranean. Northward, at our feet, on
the summit of a lower conical hill, ringed with gray rock, lay the
village of El-Jib, the ancient Geba of Benjamin, one of the cities which
Joshua gave to the Levites.

This was the place from which Jonathan and his armour-bearer set out,
without Saul's knowledge, on their daring, perilous scouting expedition
against the Philistines. What fighting there was in olden days over that
tumbled country of hills and gorges, stretching away north to the blue
mountains of Samaria and the summits of Ebal and Gerizim on the horizon!

There on the rocky backbone of Benjamin and Ephraim, was Ramallah
(where we had spent Sunday in the sweet orderliness of the Friends'
Mission School), and Beeroth, and Bethel, and Gilgal, and Shiloh.
Eastward, behind the hills, we could trace the long, vast trench of the
Jordan valley running due north and south, filled with thin violet haze
and terminating in a glint of the Dead Sea. Beyond that deep line of
division rose the mountains of Gilead and Moab, a lofty, unbroken
barrier. To the south-east we could see the red roofs of the new
Jerusalem, and a few domes and minarets of the ancient city. Beyond
them, in the south, was the truncated cone of the Frank Mountain, where
the crusaders made their last stand against the Saracens; and the hills
around Bethlehem; and a glimpse, nearer at hand, of the tall cypresses
and peaceful gardens of 'Ain Karim.

This terrestrial paradise of vision encircled us with jewel-hues and
clear, exquisite outlines. Below us were the flat roofs of Nebi Samwil,
with a dog barking on every roof; the filthy courtyards and dark
doorways, with a woman in one of them making bread; the ruined archways
and broken cisterns with a pool of green water stagnating in one
corner; peasants ploughing their stony little fields, and a string of
donkeys winding up the steep path to the hill.

Here, centuries ago, Samuel called all Israe