"and my holy place is the _tomb of that donkey's
father_!" "Mashallah," said Mohammed, "may Allah bless the beard of the
holy donkeys!"

The people tell this story, which shows, that they ridicule and despise
their holy places, and yet are too superstitious to give them up. The
great thing with the sheiks who keep them is _the piastres_ they make
from the visitors.

As we go up the hill to Safita, you see the tall, beautiful Burj, or
Crusader's tower, built as were many of the castles and towers whose
ruins you see on the hills about here, by the French and English eight
hundred years ago, to keep down the wild and rebellious people. The
Protestant Church is at the east. These are two watch towers. One was
built for warriors who fought with sword and spear, and the other for
the simple warfare of the gospel. You may depend upon it, we shall have
a welcome here. It is nearly sunset, and the people are coming in from
their fields and pastures and vineyards. Daud and Nicola, and Michaiel,
Soleyman, Ibrahim, and Yusef, Miriam, Raheel and Nejmy and crowds of
others with a throng of little ragged boys and girls, come running to
greet us. "Praise God we have seen you in peace!" "Ehelan wa Sehelan,"
"Welcome and Welcome!" "Be preferred!" "Honor us with your presence!"
"How is your state?" "Inshullah you are all well!" "How are those you
left behind?" "How are the preserved of God?" "I hope you are not
wearied with the long ride, this hot day?" "From whence have you come,
in peace?" "What happy day is this to Safita!" and we answer as fast as
we can, and dismount and pitch the tent in front of the church door, in
the little plot of ground next to the houses of some of the brethren.
The church is built of cream colored limestone, the same color as the
great Burj, and contrasts strongly with the houses of the people. Did
you ever see such houses? They are hardly high enough to stand up in,
and are built of roundish boulders of black trap-rock, without lime, and
look as if the least jar would tumble them all down. Each house has but
one room, and here the cattle, goats and donkeys all sleep in the same
room. The people are poorer than any fellaheen (peasants) you ever saw.
There is not a chair or table in the village, unless the Beshoor family
have them. They are the only wealthy people here, and in years past they
have oppressed the Protestants in the most cruel manner. Beshoor had a
lawsuit with the people about the land of the