not venture far without the risk of being carried away; but I succeeded in
obtaining a complete and most refreshing immersion. The taint of Gomorrah
was not entirely washed away, but I rode off with as great a sense of
relief as if the baptism had been a moral one, as well, and had purified
me from sin.

We rode for nearly two hours, in a north-west direction, to the Bedouin
village of Rihah, near the site of ancient Jericho. Before reaching it,
the gray salt waste vanishes, and the soil is covered with grass and
herbs. The barren character of the first region is evidently owing to
deposits from the vapors of the Dead Sea, as they are blown over the plain
by the south wind. The channels of streams around Jericho are filled with
nebbuk trees, the fruit of which is just ripening. It is apparently
indigenous, and grows more luxuriantly than on the White Nile. It is a
variety of the _rhamnus_, and is set down by botanists as the Spina
Christi, of which the Saviour's mock crown of thorns was made. I see no
reason to doubt this, as the twigs are long and pliant, and armed with
small, though most cruel, thorns. I had to pay for gathering some of the
fruit, with a torn dress and bleeding fingers. The little apples which it
bears are slightly acid and excellent for alleviating thirst. I also
noticed on the plain a variety of the nightshade with large berries of a
golden color. The spring flowers, so plentiful now in all other parts of
Palestine, have already disappeared from the Valley of the Jordan.

Rihah is a vile little village of tents and mud-huts, and the only relic
of antiquity near it is a square tower, which may possibly be of the time
of Herod. There are a few gardens in the place, and a grove of superb
fig-trees. We found our tent already pitched beside a rill which issues
from the Fountain of Elisha. The evening was very sultry, and the
musquitoes gave us no rest. We purchased some milk from an old man who