"Hardly. By sympathy with you, Daisy."

"A little below, papa, we shall come to the Valley of Achor,
where Achan was stoned."

"I don't know that story, Daisy. You may read it to me."

We had a long reading and resting there by the ruined khan.
Papa was ready to listen and talk; and I saw that so long as
we were in Palestine he would read the Bible as much as I
liked. Then we made the rest of our way. I knew he could not
but be interested with that. The scenery became so wild and
grand as to satisfy even him. We got the glorious view of the
plains of Jericho from the top of the steep descent, and stood
still for some time to look. Papa said it was a noble view;
but to me it was so full of the riches of association that I
could hardly feast upon it enough. Down there, Jericho of old
had stood and fallen; when the priests and the people of
Israel compassed it about with trumpets of victory. There, or
over against it, the Jordan had been divided to let the people
pass over. In later days Elijah and Elisha had gone over
single-handed. Down on that plain had stood Herod's Jericho,
which Christ had gone through time and again; where Zaccheus
climbed the tree to see Him, and Bartimeus sitting by the
wayside had cried out for his mercy and got it. What was there
before me in all that scene that did not tell of the power of
faith - of the grace of God - of the safety and strength of
His children - of the powerlessness of their enemies. My heart
sang hymns and chanted psalms of rejoicing, while my little
Syrian pony stood still with me at the top of the pass of