, who are expected to have money, alone at the bridge." I
accepted the situation, and said, "All right, but I shall expect you
both to be obedient to the extent of giving me a period of quiet as
long as I wish to remain."

But, before we go to the bridge, let me tell of that night in that
miserable place of filth. At the time of retiring my host said to me
through my interpreter that I could have choice of beds--that I could
either sleep on the counter, which consisted of a couple of boards laid
carelessly across boxes, or that I could sleep behind the counter on
the floor! After looking at the boards, and thinking what would likely
be the result should I attempt to sleep there, I made choice of the
floor. The room then became my BEDROOM.

Oh, that night! I did not sleep a half-hour. The place seemed alive
with vermin. My host slept on the counter. He did not seem to be
annoyed in the least. True, he scratched, but he snored an
accompaniment to his scratching throughout the night. I could only
scratch and listen to him; there was no snoring for me. After that
night it required frequent bathing and much searching for a week or ten
days before I felt free from the awful pests of that filthy den. Thus
it was that my first crossing of the Jordan did not bring me to a "land
of rest," but to an experience akin to distraction.

But now to the bridge. We pass quietly among the curious gazers down to
the river. Just south of the bridge I go down to the river's edge and
bathe my hands, face, and feet in water that only a few hours ago was
in the lake where the waves were once stilled by His quiet command of
power--"Peace, be still," and where He at another time walked amidst
the billows to meet his own; in water that will hurry on down the
valley to the place where He was baptized; and then it will pass on
into oblivion in the Salt Sea of Death. Then I try, with surprising
success, to drink of the water like our Arab guide drank to-day. Then
we walk to the bridge, at the approach of which I ask my men to tarry
while I go out on it alone to meditate.

I have reached this place by the expenditure of much physical energy. I
am very weary over my hard day in the saddle. But when I seat myself on
the highest point of the bridge, and give myself up to reverie, I feel
the flood of sentiment and rejoice. The moon is about one-half hour
above the mountains of Gilead; a halo seems to gild the heights to the
east and to the west. I am j